The toilet whooshed in bathroom. Abby knocked on the door and asked, "Grammy, you okay?"

Grammy came out of the bathroom dabbing her face with a wet washcloth. Her face was very pale and sweat stood on her upper lip. She leaned against the doorjamb. "Abby, do you think you could stay home from school today and drive me to the airport?"

Fear struck in Abby. It had only been three months since she got her learner's permit and driving around town still scared her. She wanted to say, no, but the look on Grammy's face told her not to say it. Instead she said, "Yeah, but you know I've never driven on the freeway before."

Relieved Grammy said, "That's okay. You can do it. You are careful." She patted Abby's cheek.

*

Driving down the freeway was scary. Cars zoomed by so fast. Abby had trouble getting on the ramps. Every time she slid into the right lane, she thanked God she had not killed herself or anyone else. Still, she was doing better than she thought she would. After surviving another ramp, the airport loomed in the distance. The morning sun glittered on the huge glass windows. The scream of planes taking off and landing filled the air. Abby pulled into the short-term parking. The multi-layer parking garage was a driving challenge she was not ready to attempt.

"We are here," Abby said. She handed Grammy the keys. When Grammy's fingertips brushed against Abby's palm they were cold. Grammy opened the door and got out of the car.

Abby followed Grammy into the airport and up the escalator. Grammy walked to a big glass window and sat down in a chair. Abby sat next to her. Grammy pulled a crossword puzzle book out of her purse. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't even write letters in the boxes. Abby placed her hands over Grammy's, she could feel her fear. Grammy nodded gratefully. Tears stood in the corners of her eyes. She was trying so hard to be brave.

After awhile the flight number boomed across the intercom. In a hoarse whisper Grammy said, "That's it."

They both stood up. Abby felt her heart beat leap to a faster pace. Her stomach twisted into a knot. Grammy gripped her hand. After several minutes, a tall thin man with a guitar case passed through security. Grammy gave a stifled cry and let go of Abby's hand. She ran to the man and hugged him. He was obviously Chester. He didn't return his mother's embrace. Abby stared at him. She couldn't see the face of the boy in this man - the boy in the picture at home who smiled at her. This man had not smiled. His face looked like it didn't know how.When Grammy led Chester over to Abby he looked at her and asked, "So, who's this?"

His word's stung but Abby didn't flinch. In a firm voice she said, "I'm Abby."

The hardness in Chester's face changed to amazement. He said, "No."

"Yes."

He turned to Grammy and asked, "Can we get home? The trip was a killer."

"Of course," Grammy's face was no longer pale. It was flushed red.

When they got down to the car Grammy didn't ask Abby to drive. Grammy climbed into the driver's seat while Chester put his guitar case and green duffel bag into the back seat with Abby.

Grammy started the car and drove away from the terminal. When she got on the freeway she said, "I fixed up the downstairs bedroom for you."

Chester mumbled, "Great." He leaned back against the seat and added, “Can we not talk?”

Grammy said, “Sure, if you don’t want to. It is enough just having you here.”

In a hard voice, Chester said, “Well don’t get used to it.”

Abby glanced up at the rear view mirror. She looked at Grammy. Grammy clutched the steering wheel like it was a live thing she wanted to strangle. Grammy's face had gone pale again. Abby leaned over the seat and asked, "You okay?"Grammy nodded. Abby leaned back and studied the bald spot on the back of Chester's head. It was smooth and shiny. The Chester in the picture had such thick wavy hair.

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When they reached the house Grammy said, "We're home.”

Before he spoke, Chester looked at the house and then across the street,"I didn't expect to see this place again. Who lives in Lila's house now?"

Grammy said, "Lila. She and Hugh moved in about three years ago, after her mom died."

"Mrs. Jacob is dead?"

In a shaky voice Grammy replied, "I wrote to you about it."

In a tone that sounded like he could care less, Chester said, "Really." He unlocked his door and got out of the car. His eyes were still fixed on the Spenser house.

Grammy asked Abby, "Could you bring his things in dear?"

"Yeah, I guess." Abby swung open her door and got the guitar case.

Chester snatched the case away from her. "No body touches this but me."

Abby glared at him. Her expression seemed to amuse him. He smirked and headed for the house. Grammy ran after him like a forgotten child. Angrily, Abby thought, a grown man ought to be able to carry all his own junk. His duffle bag was heavy. She hoisted it onto her shoulder and carried it inside. Just as she reached the kitchen she heard Grammy say, "I hope you will like what I have done." Abby peeked around the corner just in time to see Grammy proudly opened the door to Chester's bedroom. Her eyes were eager like those of a child sharing some secret treasure during show and tell. Chester's face did nothing. He walked into the room. Abby followed.

Without looking at her, he said, "You can put my bag over there." He pointed to the bed. "I'd like to unpack now."Abby dumped the bag on the bed with an exaggerated thump. She hoped he noticed, but he didn't seem to.

Grammy asked, "Would you like some help?"

"Not much to unpack Ma."

"Oh, of course." Quickly Grammy backed out of the room.

Abby said, "She worked real hard to fix this up for you."

Chester shrugged. He reached for his duffel bag. "You can leave any time now."

His words hurt. Abby said, "So can you."

Chester laughed. It was a hard laugh without warmth. "That's what you think, kiddo."

Abby glared at him and left the room. Chester was rude.

*

It was late evening. Abby sat on a flat piece of concrete piling. She tossed a bunch of rubble into the waves. She felt sad and annoyed. She had come out here because Grammy was acting like a stranger in her own house. She told Abby to shush, not to stomp on the stairs or bang doors because the precious Chester was sleeping. Angrily Abby took a whole fist full of debris and hurled it into the water. From behind her Ryan asked, “Want some company?" Abby turned to him and nodded. He climbed over the busted concrete and sat down beside her. He asked, “What’s up?”

"Chester isn't that's for sure."

Ryan crinkled up his forehead and asked, "What?"

Sarcastically Abby said, "Grammy's little boy needs his nap time.”

Ryan studied her face and teased, "Sounds like somebody's jealous to me."

This made Abby furious. "I am not. Grammy is treating him like he's visiting royalty or something. It makes me sick. She has waited on him all day and he hasn't so much as said one thank you." Abby picked up another fist full of rocks. Ryan’s hand closed over hers. Abby squinted at him and jerked her hand free. She hurled more rocks into the water.

Ryan asked, "It's that bad, huh?"

Abby nodded. She didn't know why but she felt like crying. "I hope he doesn't stay long. All he brought was a guitar case and a duffel bag."

"He plays guitar?"

"Yeah, he plays guitar. He sings and writes music according to Grammy."

Too eagerly, Ryan asked, "You think he might teach me a few cords?"

"I doubt it. He doesn't seem to be very friendly,"

Ryan smiled at her and said, "It never hurts to ask.”

Abby frowned at him. "That's not necessarily true.” She picked up a hunk of cement about the size of a softball and threw it into the water. It made an almost satisfying kerplunk.

Ryan moved closer to her, so close their legs touched. He put a hand on her knee. Abby knocked it off and moved away from him.

Ryan scowled at her. "Seems like Chester's not the only unfriendly person in your family."

"Seems like David’s not the only flirt in yours."

Ryan's eyes grew wide. Softly he said, "Abby I'm not flirting."

Stupid boy. Abby got up. "I think I better go in its time for supper." As Abby scrambled up the pilings she could feel Ryan's eyes on her. She didn't look back.

He called to her, "See you."

She didn't respond.

Opera music drifted out of the houses open front door. It was Wagner's Die Meistersinger Von Nurnberg. This was a bad sign. Grammy only listened to this opera when she was trying to be cheerful. Why, Abby had no idea. Opera NEVER cheered her up. She walked into the dining room. The table was set with Grammy's best violet china. Her company white lace tablecloth covered the table. Abby sniffed the air. She smelled green beans, roasted chicken and hot rolls.

Grammy called from the kitchen, "Abby, that you?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Come help me get the food on the table."

Abby got the vegetables and rolls and put them on the table. Grammy set the chicken down. "Looks good," Abby said.

Grammy nodded. She went to Chester's bedroom door and knocked. "Honey, supper's ready."

Abby sat down at the table. She heard Chester fumbling with his doorknob. He said, "Uh, Ma, I'd rather eat in my room tonight."

Grammy came back into the dining room. She filled a plate for Chester, went back to his room and knocked again. Abby heard the door open and close. Grammy's heeled shoes clicked across the wood floor as she returned to the table. She sat down and sighed.

Loudly, Abby said, "He could have at least said thank you."

Grammy whispered, "Sshh. He'll hear you."

"I don't care. I think he's rude."

Grammy's voice hardened, "At this moment he's not the only rude person in this house." Grammy put her napkin in her lap and added, "Now eat."