My scene involves either red meat or alcohol, and the coffee shop in Fortune is as close to a New Age establishment as a small Minnesota town will tolerate. There’s caffeine, crystals and sandwiches with weeds in them. But when I see her car outside the Brew Ha Ha, I hit the brake on my bike so fast I almost end up ass over elbows. I haven’t had a bike related accident since I was ten and my front tire hit the curb as I was trying to wave down Kelly Pickleheart, my fifth grade crush. Inside I find my grandma knitting with her church club but next to her on the sofa is my target. Because I’m not still ten, I don’t make the mistake of gawking at Annie. I’m fully aware of her sitting like a stone statue turning redder than the cardinal painted on Grandma Wilkins’ teacup. “You’re looking as gorgeous as ever.” I lean over and give Grammy’s slightly wrinkled cheek a kiss. “What are you doing here, Van?”
