“What’s funny, Grandma?”

“Nothing, honey.” Absolutely nothing anymore.

This trip to the store was going to be extra challenging.

It was a Saturday, when the store was usually the most crowded.

Valentine Crosby worked on this day, at this hour.

Until now Annabelle had avoided seeing Val.

WHEN ANNABELLE and Jody walked into George’s Fresh Food & Deli, a rolling silence fell over the store, starting with the first people to see them up front. Then the woman closest to them smiled, someone else gave them a little wave, and business went on as usual-except for the feeling Annabelle had that the two of them were being covertly watched by people who were curious or concerned and trying not to show it.

The smell of cooking food nearly gagged Annabelle.

She swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.

This time she was going to attempt to walk up to the meat counter where the bloody fresh cuts were and ask for a whole fryer. The smell and the sight of blood had kept her away from the back of the store before now, but she was determined to change that on this trip.

“George” wasn’t a man’s first name, but rather the last name of the couple who owned the store. Livia George, the wife, came hurrying up, smiling too brightly. “Hello, Annabelle! Is it okay if Jody has some C-A-N-D-Y?”

Jody grabbed Annabelle’s right leg and clung to it.

Annabelle looked down at her and gently asked, “Would you like Mrs. George to give you a piece of candy?”

“No,” Jody said, edging partly behind her grandmother. Annabelle wanted to remind her to add Thank you, but didn’t have the heart to chide her. They could deal with manners later. For now, just getting the child to step six inches away in a public place would be enough.

The store owner bent down closer to Jody. “It’s choc-o-late!”

“Another time,” Annabelle said, stepping fully in front of her granddaughter. “Thank you, Livia. That’s very kind of you.”

When they got a grocery cart, Jody held onto both of them, grandmother and cart.

With slow progress they managed to pick up fresh fruit and vegetables, cereal, milk, and other staples that Annabelle wouldn’t want to cook and nobody would want to eat. Every time she spotted something that her eldest son had loved, or that her youngest son had preferred, her throat closed and she prayed that nobody would pick that moment to ask, “How are you?” Not good, that’s how. That’s how they all were. The Linders were not good at all, including Annabelle’s son in Army Basic Training, to judge by Bobby’s lack of letters or phone calls home.

Fresh chicken wasn’t actually her main goal today.

Even when she successfully took it wrapped from Byron George’s hands, she felt no accomplishment yet.

Her main reason for coming waited at one of the front checkout counters.

When she reached the two counters, she saw there were ten people waiting for one of them, and only one customer standing across the moving belt from Val Crosby. Annabelle pushed her cart in behind the single customer, with Jody holding onto her skirt behind her. The customer, a woman she knew only slightly, looked up, saw who was behind her in line, and looked flustered. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, although it wasn’t clear why. In the same sardonic inner tone with which she tended to address God lately, Annabelle wondered if the woman was offering her condolences or her apologies for failing to snub Valentine Crosby as the other shoppers were doing.

When it was Annabelle’s turn, she stood in front of Billy’s wife.

“Hello, Valentine.”

The girl flinched when she saw who it was. She looked wretched. She had already been thin-scrawny, as Annabelle’s sons might have said-but now she looked gaunt, all eyes and bones. She also looked as if she was either going to cry or run away at the sight of the grandmother and child in her checkout line.

Byron George came hurrying up and said, “Annabelle, we can make room for you in the other line if you’d like to use it.”

She shook her head. “This will be fine, Byron.”

Annabelle straightened her back, took a deep breath and prayed that the frightened-looking young woman standing across from her wouldn’t burst into tears, as she looked as if she might. She had something to say to Val. She had practiced it at home, in front of Hugh Senior, and now she desperately tried to remember what came next. At first her mind went blank and she thought she might be the one to cry. But then it came back to her and the words burst out. “My husband and I want you to know that we are always thinking of you and wishing the best for you.” She raised the volume a little so she would be sure to be overheard by a number of people, all of whom she was positive were furtively, understandably, watching or eavesdropping. “I hope people are treating you all right, Valentine.”

Annabelle knew they weren’t. That’s why she was here.

The girl’s eyes filled and her lips trembled.

Annabelle reached across and took her hand, and as she did, she looked up at the store’s owner. “Byron, I’m sure Valentine is an excellent employee and that you will treat her well, as you do everyone who works for you.” He looked startled, confused, but then he nodded in a way that looked like a vow rather than just an affirmation. “That’s good of you, Byron,” Annabelle said.

She turned to look at Valentine Crosby again. “I think we’ve got everything we came for, if you want to check us out now, Val.”

She squeezed the pale, trembling hand and released it.

Val hurried to do her job, taking in an audible breath as she picked up the first item. She could barely ring them on the cash register. She dropped things, which Annabelle picked up and handed back to her. Byron George hovered over them as if he didn’t know what to do next.

“I’ll call you in a few days, Valentine,” Annabelle said in the same clear, loud voice that she intended for as many people as possible to hear, “to see if you need anything. I hope your neighbors and everybody at your church are helping you out while Billy’s gone. I hope everyone is being kind and thoughtful to you.” She had thought she might say, That’s what my son would have wanted, but at the last minute she couldn’t get the painful words out, and she was also afraid they might wound Valentine terribly. It was better for both of them not to say it.

Annabelle knew how formal and stiff she sounded, and regretted it.

But she couldn’t help it. Getting the words out at all was a victory.

She had wept while rehearsing them with Hugh Senior.

He had encouraged her, coached her, cried with her.

They’d heard of meanness in town, of Valentine and her boy being snubbed, or worse, and they had talked about it and decided mutually that they were the only ones who could put a stop to it.

Valentine broke down and began to cry.

Seeing her, Annabelle did, too.

The two women-wife of a convict, mother of a victim-leaned toward each other over the milk and cereal and embraced. Annabelle whispered in her ear, “You have to eat, Valentine. You’re too thin. You have to keep up your strength for the sake of your son.”

Valentine whispered back, sobbing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mrs. Linder, I’m so so sorry,” while they held onto each other for dear life.

It was then that Annabelle realized that Jody wasn’t clinging to her anymore.

Annabelle broke away and looked around, but didn’t see her granddaughter.

Though she knew it was absurd, she panicked. “Jody!”

And then she heard it: a little girl’s giggle. It was the most beautiful noise she’d heard in weeks, and her eyes welled up with tears again at the precious sound of it. She looked in that direction and spotted Jody standing in a corner of the store beside a card table where a boy was showing her something in a book. Jody pointed to a page and they both giggled.