“Congratulate me, Red! And join me in a toast. To driving!” Myrtle took a swig from her wine glass.
Her son, Red, rolled his eyes at his wife as she kicked open the back door with their toddler on one hip and a bag of groceries on the other. He resisted the urge to hang up the phone on his mother. “What for, Mama? Finally beat Mrs. Meyers playing Scrabble?”
“You know I always let that poor woman win. No, I just came back from the Department of Motor Vehicles. They renewed my driver’s license for ten more years!”
Red, taking the grocery bag from Elaine, dropped the phone. Picking it up, he said, “But Mama, you haven’t even regularly driven a car for at least five years!”
“That didn’t seem to bother the DMV one bit. Besides, I do get some driving practice in from time to time. Miles drove me there this morning. I had a fantastic picture taken.”
“Why on earth do you even need to drive? I’m happy to drive you anywhere you need to go. You don’t even own a car. Shoot, Mama, downtown is only a few blocks away anyhow.”
“I’ll drive Caroline Wilson’s car. She told me just the other day that she wants it warmed up from time to time.”
Red battled a rising tide of panic. As Bradley, North Carolina Chief of Police, he took his duty ensuring public safety very seriously. Having his octogenarian mother terrorizing the citizenry in a borrowed 1978 Cadillac Fleetwood didn’t fit his vision.