The Widow’s Granddaughter
A short story by
J. Timothy King
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007, 2009, 2010 J. Timothy King. All rights reserved.
Published by J. Timothy
Revised electronic edition, March
Smashwords edition, March 2010.
She was not someone you would expect to make a difference in anyone’s life. She was neither rich nor powerful. She was not vivacious, not young, not beautiful. She was neither a mover nor a shaker. When she walked, she hobbled along, a quad cane in one hand, dragging her withered frame behind her, arthritis-infested joints creaking with each lumbering step. She reeked of old perfume; a small, black toque sat atop her thinning, black hair, probably dyed; and when she opened her mouth, from her shriveled face screeched a voice like that of the Wicked Witch of the West.
“I need you to wait out in the car while I go in and talk to him,” Marietta heard the old woman say from the passenger seat.