Scots on the Rocks by Mary Daheim

By Mary Daheim

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Huh. Okay, help me to the door. ” After getting Gertrude positioned in the doorway, Judith went back outside and retrieved the baseball she’d found in the garage and hidden under a fuchsia bush by the toolshed. Joe was coming from the garage with the baseball bat, an infielder’s mitt, and a pair of badminton rackets that needed to be restrung. ” “Yes,” Judith replied. “Toss those rackets. My hip has benched me. ” She cocked her arm to throw the baseball. ” Joe cried. ” He noticed Gertrude watching from the toolshed door.

I’ve asked Joe to help clean out some stuff from the garage,” Judith explained, “so I won’t have time to fold the laundry when you get done. ” Phyliss’s beady eyes scrutinized Judith. “It’s later than you think. Saint Peter’s going tick-a-lock with those pearly gates for me even as we speak. I’m poorly. ” Judith feigned sympathy. “Really? That’s a shame. ” Phyliss’s eyes practically bugged out. “Are you serious? ” Judith shrugged. “You know your own body. ” Phyliss swallowed so hard Judith could see her Adam’s apple move on her scrawny neck.

I don’t get it. I always liked Lou Gehrig better. ” Renie nodded. ” “Oh, that’s so,” Gertrude agreed. “But he had another nickname—Biscuit Pants. ” “Interesting,” Renie remarked. “I didn’t know that. ” “Sounds screwy to me,” Gertrude muttered. ” Renie nodded. ” “Sounds good to me,” Gertrude said. The cordless phone rang, making Judith jump. Swiftly, she picked the receiver up from the card table and answered. “You got a reprieve,” Ingrid Heffelman announced. ” Judith asked, moving away from her mother and Renie to hear more clearly.

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