In the Cool of the Day

By A.G. Carpenter

Miriam's aunts are determined to get everything that's coming to them. With Gran on her deathbed and a storm on the horizon, they are all about to learn that true inheritance is more than things.

21 pp

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.G. Carpenter
• Release date: Sep 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501407376

A.G. Carpenter

A.G. Carpenter writes fiction of (and for) all sorts. Her short stories have appeared in Daily Science Fiction, Abyss & Apex, and Nature Magazine - Futures. She prefers Die Hard to When Harry Met Sally and The Good, The Bad and The Ugly over Animal House. Her favorite color is black. Repped by Bob Mecoy.

Book preview

The sun has barely crawled above the tree tops and already the house is cooking - humid and smelling of too many generations of tom cat. Miriam and Gran have scrubbed every inch of floor and baseboard and as much of the wall as can be reached without a stool, but the smell lingers. Especially when it's hot.

Miriam nudges the screen door open with her shoulder, carefully balancing the tray with the pitcher of sweet tea and two glasses with crushed mint in the bottom. I brought something to drink, she says.

Gran looks up with a smile, vague around the edges. Oh? Oh, yes. That's nice. She smooths the hair back from her face and her normal clarity returns. Sweet tea with mint.

Your favorite. Miriam fills the glasses and takes one in either hand. A moment of concentration and condensation forms on the rapidly cooling glass.

Gran nods, approving. You're getting better at that. She takes a sip. Just right.

Been practicing enough. Miriam takes a quick swallow from her own glass. Her palms are pink and hot and she flexes her fingers, waiting for the heat she drew out of the tea to dissipate.

Make sure you get the beans picked before the storm comes in.

Miriam glances at the horizon, clear and hot, doubtful, but she nods. Yes, ma'am. A plume of dust rises from down the road, glinting in the early morning sun at the base. Cars coming, Gran.

Yes. Gran pushes up to her feet and reaches for Miriam's arm. Help me upstairs.

Back in the winter Gran had started needing help up the stairs. A sturdy pair of legs to help keep her balanced, she'd said. Each month the trip upstairs took longer; not just stopping half-way up to catch her breath, but after every step.

The doctor had come out and looked at her. He'd recommended she move to a bedroom downstairs, get plenty of rest, and take the pills he gave