Fear Thy Neighbor (7)
Surprised at the invitation, yet flattered Betty felt comfortable enough to invite her, Alison said, “I’d love to.” It was unlike her to act so spontaneously, but she felt sorry for the old woman. There was no harm in spending time with her. She had nothing better to do; plus, her kitties were content.
“Follow me,” Betty said, opening the door behind her. “It’s not much, but it’s all mine. Paid in full.”
Alison smiled. “This is nice.” What she assumed was the main living area consisted of an avocado green sofa with an orange and green knitted afghan neatly folded across the back. Two matching tables on either side, a cream-colored doily on both, one with a lamp and the other holding a stack of books. Two chairs opposite the sofa in the same ugly green appeared new, or possibly no one ever sat in them. She followed Betty to the kitchen.
“I like a lot of sugar in my tea—you okay with that?”
“Sure, that’s just the way I like it.” A lie, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Smells good in here.”
“I had a craving for peanut butter cookies and made a couple dozen this afternoon. That’s what I was doing when you arrived.” She patted her waist. “Doesn’t do a thing for a gal’s figure, though. Still, at my age, it’s not a problem. I eat what I want, so when it’s my time, I’ll die happy. The heck with all those fad diets.”
Alison laughed. “I never thought of that, but if it’s what makes you happy, go for it.” She wasn’t the greatest conversationalist, but Betty made her feel comfortable enough to relax a bit.
The kettle whistled. Betty filled two brown mugs with water, then dropped a tea bag in each. With Betty’s back to her, Alison watched as she filled their mugs with heaping spoons of sugar, enough to have a sugar high for a week, plus two plates piled high with the cookies.
“Sit,” Betty instructed. In the corner was a small table covered with a plastic tablecloth, its pattern worn, barely detectable.
“This is so kind of you,” Alison told her, then sat down.
“Kid, it’s my pleasure, I don’t have company anymore. Just a few guests now and then, as the season’s over. Summer is slow. You from Florida?”
Alison expected this question, but for some reason, she felt compelled to keep her past private. “Uh, no, I grew up in Arizona.” She needed an excuse to explain her tanned skin, but then she remembered the Jeep had Florida license plates. “I’ve been in Florida a couple months now. For work.”
Betty sat in the chair opposite her. “That so?”
She nodded. “Yes, I freelance.”
“What kind of freelancing do you do? If you don’t mind my asking.”
She summoned a fake smile. “I write for an animal magazine.”
“And you don’t need the Internet for your work?” Betty shook her head side to side.
“I do, but I’m giving myself the night off.” She hadn’t told Betty she didn’t have a computer, only that she didn’t need Wi-Fi. She took a sip of her tea. “This is so sweet of you,” she said, taking another sip of tea.
“As I said, I don’t get a lot of company these days, and you’re a decent girl. I can tell. No tattoos, weird piercings in places that ain’t normal.”
“No tattoos or piercings for me. I’m afraid of needles. I do my best to stay on the upside of the grass.” She had never been arrested, no traffic violations. Her life on the streets hadn’t always been horrible; she’d never been in trouble with the police, other than the times she’d taken off when she’d been forced to live in one foster home after another.
“You get to that age where you know yourself, your likes, and dislikes. No shame in admitting that.” Betty pushed the plate of cookies across the table. “My feelings will be hurt if you don’t eat a couple of these. My waistline, too.”
She took two cookies, sinking her teeth into the sweetness. “These are scrumptious.” She finished one cookie, then another. “Just one more,” Alison said. The cookies were mouthwatering. “Best cookies I’ve ever had. I didn’t eat a lot of sweets as a kid.” A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she gripped the edge of the table to steady herself.
“Are you all right?” Betty asked.
Alison closed her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to subside. “I think so. I, uh, need to lie down. I’ll find my way out.” She stood up, the kitchen spinning around her. “Sorry.”
“Let me help you back to your room, kiddo. You don’t look so good.” Betty walked to her side and took her hand. “I’ll get you settled in for the night.”
Alison let Betty lead her out of the kitchen, through the living area, then to the reception desk. She leaned on Betty. Her body limp, she could barely manage to put one foot in front of the other. “Sorry,” she muttered again. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Her words were muffled.
“Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”
Inside her room, Alison went limp when Betty helped her to bed. “Let’s get you under the covers. Your skin is hot as a coal. You got a fever, I’m sure.”
“Uh,” was all she could manage.
“I’ll get some aspirin. You relax; I’ll be right back.” Betty scurried out of the room. For the first time in a very, very long time, she was doing what she hadn’t done. A young woman, alone and ill, who just so happened to be a guest at her motel, needed her. This is what she’d been wanting, waiting for. She’d forgive her lie for now, telling her she only had one cat. Her vision was pretty good—she was sure there were three cats on her pillow. Briefly, she thought of the deposit money. Betty planned to keep it and would remind the girl of her lie later.