“Well, do you have a first name?”
“Anderson Mam.” I replied quietly.
“Please don't call me Mam. Mam is a name for my mother. Makes me feel old.”
“What can I call you?” I asked curiously.
“Jenny.” Her name rang in my head pretty as a bell. Even in this mess her eyes were warm, her smile comforting, she seemed to float above the ground and light up the dark oak wood.
“Jenny? That's a pretty name.” She shot me a disapproving gaze.
“Are you being familiar with me Anderson?” She made me nervous, but in a good way. I wasn't sure how to answer but didn't want to stop talking to her neither.
“No Mam, I mean, um, Jenny.”
“Where are you from Anderson? You sound like a local boy.” She had me pegged, dead to rights. Probably thought I was as dumb as a rock to.
“Yeah, I'm from Granger County.
