Anabel dismissed the notion that Jefferson and Gabriella did something inconceivable. Her grandson appeared to be very tired and he reeked of alcohol. “Jeff, you recall the doctor that your mother cited last time we visit? Let’s go. Take us there so he can check on me. I think someone put poison on my food.” She insisted.

Jefferson chuckled. Occasionally, his grandmother could be unreasonable. Why would someone put poison on her food? She might have a sharp tongue, but it’s not reason enough for someone to hate her that much. “It’s just flu, Lola. Why don’t you take some medicines?”

“Are you going to take us or not?” Anabel’s...