“Oh, my goodness. I guess that does qualify.” Ginny sipped her iced tea, wiping the moisture from the glass on her pant leg.

“And you?” Amalia asked.

“You remember when I started the ribbon embroidery?”

“A couple of years ago, right?”

“I found that bell pull all neatly packaged in one of the zippered bags bedding comes in nowadays, at the bottom of the trunk. Hope to send it to Josie for her new apartment.”

Amalia looked up at the sound of the sliding glass door opening. Fred set the tray he carried on the end of Ginny’s lounger. “Fred, you ever hear of small dishes of ice cream?”

“Those are small,” Ginny answered with a head shake.

“How do you two keep slender with all this delicious food?”

“Hard work.” Fred passed out the bowls, then the cookie plate, and settled into a recliner he dragged over. “First time I tried this recipe. Used coffee and then drizzled the chocolate syrup over the top before I froze it again. The recipe called for smashed chocolate-covered espresso beans but I didn’t have any and didn’t want to make a trip to town, so used almonds instead.”

Amalia closed her eyes, the better to savor the flavor. “You could open an ice cream store. You’d have to beat the customers away.”

“Na-ah, I’d have to make big batches and that sounds too much like work. This is experimenting. That home ice cream freezer Sam got me for Christmas is the perfect toy. This way I can make the kids’ favorite flavors.” Fred raised his bowl. “More?”

“Fred, you trying to corrupt me or stuff me like a Thanksgiving turkey?”

“Nope, just don’t want you to go home hungry.”

“Fat chance.” She set her bowl and spoon on the tray. Glancing at her watch, she huffed. “Speaking of which, I need to get something in the oven for tonight.”

“How many are you still feeding?”

“Only Agatha. If I don’t bring something, she forgets to eat. This way I know she gets at least one good meal a day.”

Ginny frowned. “I thought she was on the Meals on Wheels list.”

“She was. Not sure what happened there, but you know, she can have some bad days. I just ignore them.”

“How much longer can she live there?”

Amalia set her dish aside. “Good question. If that son of hers would research assisted living like he said he would. You know, some people just can’t deal with a mother who is slipping like she is. I’m just filling in. I’m sure we’re going to need to call Social Services pretty soon.”

“But then she goes for a while more like her old self?”

“That’s it. And then she is so grateful. At least so far, he is paying her rent and making sure she has money when she needs it.”

“Like for groceries and stuff?”

Amalia nodded and glanced over at Fred, not having heard from him in a bit. As she suspected, he’d fallen into his post-dinner snooze.