Excerpt:

She didn’t exactly spend much time at her grandmother’s house, but the unspoken deal went that she visited Gran’s house about five times a year and Gran didn’t feel a need to nag about how no one ever bothered to visit an old woman. The system was simple, but it worked.
“Christa? Christa, is that you? I’ve been looking for you since eight o’clock and I was so worried that something had happened to you, because you know it’s so dangerous out on the road.”
“I thought Mom told you I’d be here at ten?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why did you start looking for me at eight?”
“Oh, I didn’t know. I thought you might be early or something. I thought you might change your mind, I know how you kids are. After waiting around for a few hours you might have gotten bored or something.”
“A few hours?”
“Yeah.”
“When would I be waiting a few hours?”
“Before you left.”
“You mean… after I woke up?”
“Yeah.”
Christa had to reel a little at this exchange, all thought she should have been prepared. Did Gran honestly think that she would wake up at five just to wait around before going to see her grandmother? Had Gran ever slept in?
“Well, I’m here now. What did you need me to do?”
“I made cookies.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“I’m afraid they’re not very good. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me lately, I guess I’m getting old.”
“Why would that affect your cookies?”
“I guess when you get to be my age you’ll understand.”
Christa didn’t think so. There was no universe wherein a conversation about cookies naturally led to lamentation of age, and that would be true no matter how many years passed.
“They’re good, Gran, just like always.”
“You’re so sweet, honey. I’m just sorry I couldn’t make you some with oatmeal.”
“Why?”
“Because oatmeal is your favorite!”
“I don’t really even like oatmeal.”
“Sure you do.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“Well, you used to when you were a little girl.”
“Gran, I never ate oatmeal cookies.”
“Then who was that who did? Oh, it was Helen’s daughter, whatshername, the one with the blonde hair.”
Christa had never met Helen, much less her blonde daughter. “Yeah, Gran, I think it was her.”
“She’s in college now.”
“Mmm, really?”
“Yep. Up north somewhere. Where do you want to go to college, honey?”
“I’m still a junior.”
“I know, but you really should think about these things.”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to see where I can get admitted.”
“Yeah.”
Desperation was setting in.
“So what did you want me to do? Something in the attic?”
“What’s that?”
“Did you want me to do something in the attic?”
“Oh, honey, I couldn’t let you do that. It’s a mess up there. I tried to clean it up and everything so you could move some of the boxes and file some things, but I couldn’t get it dusted or vacuumed and it is just a mess up there.”
“But I thought I was supposed to clean the attic?”
“I couldn’t let you do that! You’re company!”
So this was what it was to be?
“I really don’t mind if it’s dirty I think it will be fine I really want to help you I don’t mind helping you clean up a bit.”
That desperation had definitely come to fruition.
Christa’s grandmother laughed. “I can’t let you do that! I can’t have you going back and telling your mother how dusty my corners are.”
“I really don’t think she would care.” Why would I tell her that in the first place? Christa wondered. Who has cobwebs that are that interesting?
“Oh, I know how clean your mother keeps your house. She would just be horrified! Probably wouldn’t even let you come over anymore,” Gran said with a nudge and an obligatory laugh.
A polite smile flashed on Christa’s face. “So you don’t want me to clean your attic?”
“Of course not!”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
“Well, just have a day off, a visit with your grandmother.”
Christa would have choked on that much manipulation, but those were some incredibly good cookies. She dug in. As long as she was going to be here, it might as well be worth her while.