Oh yeah! Saturday in Burdette! “Sure,” Robin said instantly. “Burdette. Is there, like, a local airport there?”
Eldagirt’s laugh was one long wheeze. “You ain’t never been out this way, have you? It ain’t but a two-hour drive from Houston.”
“Yes, but—”
“There’s a little landing strip just outside of town, but it don’t get used much. I’ll plan on making time next Saturday. Get here around noon. I’ll meet you at the—” A sound in the background interrupted her; Eldagirt shouted to the side, “Do you mind? I am on the phone!” After a moment, she said, “Like I was saying, just come next Saturday at noon.”
“Okay,” Robin said, feeling even more uncertain. “How will I find you?”
Eldagirt wheezed again. “You’ll be able to find us, don’t you worry,” she said and dragged on her smoke again. “Burdette ain’t no bigger than a tick on a dog’s butt. All right, I gotta go. See you next Saturday.”
“Wait!” Robin exclaimed, frantically trying to think of some reason she could not go to Burdette next weekend, but caught sight of Jake standing there, watching her.
“Yeah?” Eldagirt asked, the impatience in her voice evident.
Nothing. Not one reason came to mind that would keep her from going. “I just wanted to say . . .” Something! “Thanks. Thanks a lot. I really do appreciate this,” she said, and felt, strangely enough, as if she really meant it.
“Oh!” Eldagirt said, her voice lighter. “Well, okay, see you then.” She hung up.
Robin slowly put the receiver down, stood completely still, feeling something . . . After days of fuddling about like a blind man, she had done it; she had gotten through to the elusive Eldagirt Wirt! She suddenly threw her hands up in the air and, with a wheeeee, whirled about. “I did it! I got Eldagirt Wirt on the phone, and she invited me to Burdette next Saturday!”
“That’s my girl,” Grandpa said happily, having no idea what she was talking about.
“You see?” Jake said. “Somehow, I knew you could do it.”
“I know it’s only a trip to Burdette—”
“Might as well be a presidential visit, as hard as you’ve tried,” Jake reminded her as he handed Grandpa a hammer and pointed him upstairs. “Way to go, Peanut.” He winked as he started up after Grandpa.
Grinning like a fool, Robin gave him a thumbs-up, watched until he disappeared upstairs, then reminded herself it was only Burdette. She sat down and began reviewing the files Evan had brought her, trying hard to keep her mind from Jake, trying harder to learn about the profit/loss ratio of Wirt Supply and Packing.
When Jake, Grandpa, and now (oh boy) Zaney reappeared near the noon hour, she was distracted by Zaney’s protracted monologue about how he was going to form a band, playing one-armed air guitar as he talked. The man definitely wasn’t quite right, and she couldn’t help admire Jake for appearing to be interested in what Zaney was saying when lesser men (like Grandpa) were made comatose.
Grandpa looked exhausted, actually, and she asked if he would accompany her to the grocery store, where he filled her basket with cookies and sodas, which Robin took out and replaced with peanut butter, yogurt, a head of romaine lettuce, a handful of frozen dinners, and a giant Hershey bar. When Grandpa wandered off to the home appliance aisle, she perused the cereals, trying to remember if she ever actually ate cereal, and if so, what kind.
There was something not quite right about her life, wasn’t there? Most people knew if they ate cereal or not, didn’t they?
Finally worn out with the task of keeping track of Grandpa, Robin figured she had enough so that she’d live another week or so, and returned home.
Jake had left, Zaney said, and therefore, Grandpa decided to go home, too. Robin left Zaney tearing out the trim upstairs and put away her groceries, hating the barren look of her refrigerator. It was like a giant metaphor staring at her, the only thing missing was the big flashing neon arrows pointing to the empty box. She phoned Lucy to check in—that call was always good for a bitchfest. Lucy had no messages for her, other than the news Evan had had a long talk with Darren at Atlantic, and the account file was now closed.
So Evan had appointed himself her cleanup man. How humiliating was that?