It wasn’t until she was putting away her package of pickle and pimiento loaf that Anna remembered that she’d forgotten to give the old lady the signal. As she stood there dialing the phone, she thought, I’m beginning to see why Ma griped about this “call me so I know you’re home safe” rigmarole so much. I mean, who the hell would want me? The old lady shouldn’t worry about me not making it home. Considering that I could be related to just about any family out here, no guy is gonna want to take a chance on raping me—l might be kin to his father or mother.
And while she listened to the phone ring three times over at the old lady’s, Anna heard something on the porch. She stepped over to the window and pushed aside the drapes. It was Kitty-Kitty, Irma Downing’s tiger tom, climbing the scrolle
