Twenty-one #“You’re right, dear,” Delores said, closing the bag with their lunch tightly and reaching back to drop it on the back seat. “It’s mint jelly.” “You’re sure?” “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any other jelly that’s bright green.” “Neither have I. It’s got to be mint. Was it on cinnamon raisin bread?” “Yes. Shall I throw the sack out the window?” “No!” “You mean . . . you’re actually going to eat the sandwiches?” “No, but I don’t want to get pulled over for littering. We can always pass out the sandwiches to any homeless people we meet.” “But, dear . . . they’re already homeless. Would it be fair to make them eat Andrea’s sandwiches, too?” Hannah laughed, but she kept her hands on the wheel and her eyes on the road. This was the first time she’d driven since the accident that had killed Keith Branson and she was being extra careful. “You’re right, Mother. We’ll just drop them in the first trash can we come to.”
