Ms. Dawson invited Renee Jennings and her companions, along with the cats and dogs, into the living room.
"Why don't you all have a seat?" she said before turning and heading into Granny Mae's bedroom.
"Grandma."
Granny Mae was sitting by the window, her left leg in a thick plaster cast. She wore a pair of tortoiseshell-framed reading glasses, and her withered hands were nimbly holding a silver needle, mending clothes.
The moment she saw her granddaughter enter, she quickly hid the clothes.
"Yuna, who was that just now?" Granny Mae asked cheerfully.
Ms. Dawson had, of course, noticed her small movement of hiding something, but she didn't call her out on it.
She walked over to Granny Mae and crouched down, taking her wizened hand. "Grandma, they're here to see you."
"To see me?" A surprised look appeared on Granny Mae's aged face. She took off her reading glasses and asked, "Who's here to see me?"
"A good friend of yours," Ms. Dawson said teasingly. "Want to go out and see?"
