“I’ve been writing my own letters since I was twenty, Jodi,” Darla said without looking up from the screen.

“I don’t need a secretary to spell out plain English.”

Sadie leaned forward between our bucket seats, her chin nearly touching the center console.

“Grandma, who are you texting?” Sadie wanted to know.

“I’m not texting anybody, sweet girl,” Darla said, her finger hanging over the screen while she checked each line twice.

“I’m posting a picture on the internet for the whole county to see.”

I held my breath in the quiet car, listening to the faint tap of her finger on the glass.