“Come on, people! Quit your dillydallying. Gam Gam Gentry needs to see her grandson,” Mrs. Penny barked from the walkway, where she batted away raindrops with her cane. “She really does look like a Gam Gam,” Riley observed as they watched her huff and puff her way up to the porch. Mrs. Penny had dressed the part in lilac elastic-waist pants hiked up to the underboobs. Her pastel flower cardigan looked like it was made from a few dozen potholders sewn together. She’d fluffed her purple hair at the crown, smeared on a pearly pink lipstick, and stuffed half a box of tissues up her sleeve.
