Chapter Eleven

The house looked exactly the same when we returned to the estate on Wolf Mountain.  My grandmother was the first to mention it, although, I had to agree.

“You’d think that, after two years, something would have changed,” she complained.

“Perhaps our dear Maryanne prefers to keep things as Pinky liked them,” my grandfather mused.

Eliza Cramby eyed her husband with a critical glower.  “Even in death Martha has you wrapped around her little pinky, does she not?”

“Why do you say such a thing?” my grandfather complained.   He looked directly at me and smiled. “Now you know why she was nick named “Pinky”.  My poor jealous wife has always believed that your great grandmother had me wrapped around her little pinky just because I could deny her nothing.”

I giggled.  “Isn’t that kind of like having you wrapped around her pinky, then?”