I told her the whole thing in about six minutes and she said:
“Margaret Collins. Get in your car right now and come stay in my guest room until you sort this out, and I don’t want to hear one word about imposing.”
And I said I’d come Friday, after the movers.
She’s the reason I had anywhere to go. If you take nothing else from this story: a woman my age needs one friend who isn’t related to her. I had exactly one. It was enough. It was barely enough.
Call two: my nephew Theo, who is a contractor in Phoenix and who I had seen four times since moving to Arizona.
I asked him if he knew where I could rent a storage unit on Thanksgiving weekend, and he said “Aunt Mags, what’s happening,” and I told him, and he said he’d be at that house at eight in the morning.
