Page 16 of Meet Cute Reboot
“He really needs to find a new church,” Nana says as she fans her neck with a paper plate.
She’s wound her hair up in a bun and stripped down to a tank top. Pots of boiling water surround her in a billowy cloud of steam, one pot for Mom’s potatoes, and the other for the beans. I guess that means I need to get to it.
I head over to the refrigerator and shove a bottle of mayonnaise aside to grab the bulging bag of green beans. It’s more than we need, but Nana likes to have leftovers.
“Outa the way, Mom,” I say, and Mom complies.
I grab a colander from the lower cabinets and a small bowl from the uppers, and then Mom slides back to her cutting board.
“I’m going to keep Granny company while I work on these,” I say as I plop the bag of green beans into the colander.
On my way out of the kitchen, I notice a letter with a familiar logo. I set down my bowl and grab it.
Nana notices and swipes at me. “Gimme that.”
The letter is from Herbst Development company. They want to give her four hundred thousand for the house. My jaw drops.
“They’re still bugging you, Nana?” I ask.
“I get something in the mail almost every day from some company or person wanting this house.”
“They’ve raised their offer.”
Nana plants her hands on her hips. “I’m staying with my peeling gray paint and my rotten porch. I don’t care if this house hurts property values.”
I set the letter back on the stack. Mom peers at me from behind Nana and shrugs.
“Maybe in ten years, I’ll buy this place,” I say. “In the meantime, I’m going to help you remodel so the roof doesn’t fall in on you.”
“With what money?”
“The money I make when MatchAI takes off. And I’m still making money from Old Towne Ghost Tours on the side. That equity is just tied up at the moment.”
“Pshh.”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“I don’t need your money.”
“Nana.”
“You haven’t made the money yet, so it’s moot.”
“What’s moot?” Madison says. She bustles into the kitchen carrying a pie. Her mom, my Aunt Suzanne, follows her.
“Your cousin’s pipe dream of remodeling my house,” Nana says, and then she points at me. “Get to work on those beans. I’m about to throw in the potatoes.” She pours a significant amount of salt into one of the pots.
“Here,” Madison says. She sets her pie on the table, grabs the beans from my hands, and drops into one of the fifties-style chrome chairs. “I’ll help.”
“I was going to keep Granny company,” I say.
“I’m hungry,” Madison says.
“Wash your hands first!” Nana says. “Those acrylic nails are like petri dishes.”
“Fine, Nana,” Madison says. She heads over to the sink and washes her hands, trailing up her forearms and scrubbing under her nails like she’s about to go into surgery. “Good enough?” She displays her arms to Nana.
“It’d be better without the nails,” Nana mumbles.