I was wearing the button-down blue blouse and long skirt Grandmother Emma had bought for me before she had suffered her stroke.
"And those shoes... ugh. You didn't borrow them from your grandmother, did you?"
"No," I said. "She has a smaller foot."
"Otherwise you would? Is that it? Forget it. Did you get any money from your great-aunt?"
"Not yet. I told her about your father taking us to the mall so I can buy some school supplies and she said she thought she might have some money somewhere."
"Yeah, right. She might have some somewhere. She's got plenty stashed in a can or something," she said. "You can bet on that."
"Whose names are on your shoes?"
She laughed. "Those are the boys I shot down one way or another."
"Why are their names on your shoes?"
"It's like, you know, like gunslingers used to notch the handles of their guns?"
I nodded. but I really didn't understand. She walked around the kitchen, looking in cabinets, finding a cookie and sitting at the table.
"Who made that? Your great-aunt?"
"No. I did. and I brought her breakfast in bed.*
"So you're a little cook, too?" she said, plucking some of my scrambled egg off the plate with her fingers and tasting it.
"Just a little," I said.
"I hate cooking. Lots of times. I have to fix dinner for my grandfather even though my mother isn't at work because she's too occupied with other things."
"Other things?"
"Yeah, other things, like one of her customers from the Canary. "
"Doing what?"
"What do you think?"
"I don't know."
"Right. I forgot you just look like you should know. Okay," she said, getting up. 'Go find out about the money. My grandfather will take us soon. I've got my friends joining us. They want to meet you."
"Me?"
"No, the other person sitting here. Of course you. I told them all about you. We've got a lot to do. Now get after her," she said. She paused in the doorway. "We have one more day and night to party before we have to return to school, not that it will make a difference anyway," she said and laughed. "C'mon, c'mon," she urged, gesturing at me. "Get yourself moving. We're wasting time."
I stood up and then she left. Great-aunt Frances hadn't come down yet, so I put my dishes in the sink and went up to get hers and see about the money. I found her foraging about, looking through drawers. When she saw me, she held up a fistful of dollars. Miss Puss was back on the bed, lying suspiciously close to the tray. The plate looked licked clean.
"I hope this is enough," she said, handing it to me. "How much is it?"
I counted twenty singles, a ten and a five.
"It's thirty-five dollars."
"Thirty-five? I know I have more around here somewhere. I've never treated money with the proper respect. Emma always said that. She would be infuriated whenever I found a fifty- dollar bill in a jacket pocket. My father was always giving me money. but I never knew what to do with it. I'd usually give it to Emma whenever we went anywhere together,"
She squatted in front of the dresser and sifted some clothing around in a bottom drawer.