Hung Out to Die Read Online Free Page A

Toadferns.”
    â€œNot my fault,” I snapped again. I thumped down the T-shirt I was folding, at least as much as one can thump a T-shirt. A dryer buzzed. I started toward it, stomping my feet as I walked.
    Sally turned and grabbed my arm as I walked by her, causing me to stop and whirl so that I faced her. I glared at her and jerked my arm away from her grasp.
    â€œI know it’s not your fault, Josie, everyone knows that. Believe it or not, I’m not the only one in the family who has appealed to Mamaw Toadfern . . .”
    â€œYeah, well, you’re the only one, besides Billy, who has bothered to really have anything to do with me for the past twenty-two years. For pity’s sake, I was two when Daddy ran off, and that bitter old woman we call Mamaw blamed my mama, and five years after that, when Mama ran off and I could have used some support, she totally cut me off from the family and scared most everyone else from having anything to do with me!”
    My eyes pricked with tears. I was surprised by how much Mamaw’s rejection bothered me, all of a sudden. I told myself it was just because I’d only driven Owen to the airport, up in Columbus, the day before.
    â€œNow, you listen to me,” Sally said. “Mamaw Toadfern’s had a change of heart. She regrets her decision to cut you off years ago. And . . . and . . . she wants you to come to dinner for Thanksgiving!” Sally finally blurted out.
    I narrowed my eyes at Sally, partly to try to push the tears back. “If she wants me to come so darned badly, why hasn’t she called me herself? Or come on down here to the laundromat? It’s not like I’m hard to find. Practically everyone in the county knows who I am and where to find me.”
    It was the God’s truth. Sure, most everyone has a washer and dryer these days. But they don’t always work. And out in the country, when the water tables are low, people come in. And home washers can’t handle big comforters or throw rugs. Plus, there are still those who don’t have a washer/dryer at home.
    And mine’s the only laundromat in the southern part of Mason County.
    â€œWell, it’s because Mamaw Toadfern is, well . . .” Sally actually paused to sniffle. I resisted an eye-roll. “She’s just so unhealthy lately . . . something about her liver or her stomach or . . .”
    I wasn’t able to resist bursting out laughing.
    â€œNow, Josie, that’s not too kind,” Cherry said. “I know your Mamaw Toadfern hasn’t exactly been the ideal grandma, but—”
    â€œOh, Cherry, I’ve heard rumors for years about Mamaw’s illnesses. Someone’ll come in here who knows her and start talking about how Noreen Faye Wickenhoof Toadfern has been having a bout with bronchitis, or ulcers, or backaches, and how she’s sure it’s her time to go meet her maker, and I’ll start to feel all guilty that I’ve never gone to see the old woman to offer up an olive branch—even though she rejected me when I was just an innocent little kid—and then I’ll run into her at the Corner Market or the Antique Depot or Sandy’s Restaurant—and what does she do? She gives me this long, piercing glare, sticks her nose up and her scrawny little butt out, and struts away, and—”
    I stopped. I was actually starting to choke up. What was wrong with me? I didn’t care about what my old biddy Mamaw or other Toadferns who snubbed me thought . . . did I? Maybe it was the holiday season, the prospect of kicking it off without the company of Owen or any of my friends on Thanksgiving evening.
    â€œShe’s having real problems lately,” Sally said. “Last time I went to see her, she told me she had bleeding ulcers.”
    â€œI had a great-uncle who was kinda like your all’s Mamaw,” Cherry said thoughtfully. “He was a