On Second Thought(51)

     



 

"I was in the park the other day," I began. "Bixby Park?"

"A lovely time of year to visit," Eloise said.

"Yes. I, um...I saw the bench."

She raised an eyebrow. "Which bench is that?" she asked.

"The bench for Nathan."

They glanced at each other, and I immediately knew they didn't have any clue what I was talking about.

"I'm sorry," I said. "There's a bench dedicated to Nathan. I thought it was from you."

"Did Brooke do it?" Mr. Coburn asked.

"No, I don't think so," Eloise murmured. She looked at me, her brow furrowed with concern.

I looked into my iced tea. "Maybe Madeleine, then."

She put down her teacup. "I'm sure her heart is in the right place. But  I'm so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I'll call her."

"No, that's fine," I said. "Listen, I know it's... I brought my camera  for your portrait. We never got around to it, and I thought something  more spontaneous might be better."

"Our portrait?" Mr. Coburn asked.

"For our anniversary," Eloise said. "The party."

"We're still having that?"

"I told you, deah. Remember? Because of the scholarship fund?"

"Right, right."

"I'll make it as painless as possible," I said, faking a smile.

And so I told them where to sit, adjusted Mr. Coburn's collar under his  crewneck sweater and saw something I'd never seen so clearly-Nathan's  parents loved each other. They'd never recover from their son's death,  but they had each other. They'd love, honor and cherish each other for  the rest of their lives, and the magnitude of their loss had brought  them closer together.

"You're a beautiful couple," I said, and my voice was husky.

"We've been blessed," Mrs. Coburn said, her voice trembling a little. "We've been very blessed."

Mr. Coburn covered her hand with his and smiled at her, his eyes full of tears. She smiled back and touched his cheek.

Sometimes, a smile was the bravest act of all.





Chapter Twenty-One

Ainsley

On Sunday, I left the fairy presents in the little houses Jonathan's  daughters and I had made-two flower beads, and two tiny glass figurines  of a snail and a cricket. I spent far too much time agonizing over what  the fairies should leave, but I loved picturing the girls finding the  gifts.

And imagining their dad smiling when they showed him.

I was visiting my grandmother that day, and it just so happened that  Gram-Gram's apartment had a nice view of the side lawn, and yes, I found  myself lingering there, glancing out the window.

Gram-Gram was trying to remember her computer password. Ollie sat on her  lap, helping by putting his little paws on the keyboard occasionally.  Chances were strong he'd figure it out before she did.

"Do you want a sandwich, honey? I made a ham this week."

"I love ham!" I said, always happy to eat.

"Sniff it first, in case it's just about to go bad."

"Roger that." I went into the kitchen and sniffed; there was probably  enough salt in that sucker to kill any salmonella or E. coli anyway.  "Smells good enough to me!" I took a knife and started hacking away.

"Thanks, sweetheart. Your mother is so fussy about these things." She  gave me a squeeze. "Don't use that knife, honey, it's sharp. I'll do it  for you."

Dear Gram-Gram. She did love having someone to fuss over. Candy treated  her like she had a foot in the grave, raising her voice so Gram-Gram  could hear her, even though hearing loss wasn't one of her problems.

"How is your mother?" Gram-Gram asked, reading my mind.

"Oh, fine," I said. I went to the computer and started entering random  passwords. LettieCarson. lettiecarson. lettiecarson1. Gram-Gram.

A few days ago, Candy had been on the local television lifestyle show,  where she was a regular for parenting issues. The host asked her how  many children she had and she'd said, "Two children and one  stepdaughter." The truth, but still.

I tried Gram-Gram's birthday, her anniversary to her late husband, the date of his death.

Nothing. "Did you have a pet when you were little?" I asked.

"I did," she said. "Blacky the cat. Oh, he was wonderful!"

Blacky. BlackytheCat. blackythecat.

"I'm going to throw that thing out the window!" Gram-Gram said. "I hate  technology! What happened to the good old days when people could just  talk to each other? Here you go!" Gram-Gram said. She handed me a  sandwich, which had at least half a pound of ham on it, and beamed.         

     



 

I typed in SeanKateAinsley.

And I was in.

"Aw, Gram-Gram," I said. "Your password is us. You're so sweet! Here, I'll write it down, okay?"

"What if the terrorists find it and hack me?" she asked.

"That's a chance I'll take."

"Well, you're a genius. Thank you so much, honey! Now eat your sandwich before it spoils."

Mmm.

"Do you remember my mother, Gram-Gram?" I asked, taking a bite. Oh.  Okay, maybe the ham wasn't so fresh. I discreetly spit it into a napkin  and fake-chewed.

"Candy? Of course, honey! I'm her mother!"

"I meant Michelle."

Gram-Gram frowned. "The one who died? No, honey, I never met her. I don't think I did, anyway. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I just wondered. Now, let's check your dating profile." I'd  finally found SunsetYearsDating.com. I set my sandwich aside and pulled  up the site. "Oh, look! You have five men interested, you hussy!"

"I do?" She clapped, delighted.

"Here's StillGotIt25. I wonder if that's his birth year."

"Then he's only in his nineties! Is he handsome?"

I clicked, then flinched. "Okay, it's best not to go with a guy whose profile picture is of him in tighty-whities."

"Not so fast," she said, putting on one of her many pairs of glasses and  peering at the screen. "Oh, dear, no. That's some serious droopage.  Looks like a turkey wattle in there. Next." She picked up my sandwich  and took a bite.

"Oh, Gram-Gram, that's my sandwich. And you know what? I'm pretty  hungry." I'd also have to figure out how to get the ham out of there so  she wouldn't get food poisoning.

We clicked on the next picture. It showed a collage of pictures-an  elderly man, nice-looking, smiling. Another of him holding a toddler.  And the most recent one, lying in a hospital bed, eyes closed. Good God.  His interests were listed as custard night. Yes. He looked like a soft  diet kind of guy. I glanced at my gram.

"Is that Bill Parsons?" she said, blinking at the picture. "I think it is. He died a few weeks ago. Next."

The next profile had no photos. It just said I'm looking for someone to  take care of me. Must not be squeamish about bowel rinses. Also, my  daughters do not approve of this, so you would have to leave or hide  when they visit.

"Charming," I murmured.

An announcement came over the intercom, which was in everyone's  apartment. "Good afternoon, residents! A reminder that our salsa dance  class starts in ten minutes."

"Shall we go to that, Gram-Gram?" I said. "A lot of times, meeting someone in person is best."

"Only women go to salsa dancing."

"Maybe you should become a lesbian, then. It would solve that pesky life expectancy problem."

"Oh, you're such a hoot!" She laughed. "Sure, let's go. This is getting  us nowhere." She paused. "I'm just lonely, honey. Your grandfather's  been gone so long I can't even remember what a hug from a man feels  like, let alone sex. I hope you don't mind helping me."

I wrapped my arms around her little shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. "I love helping you," I said.

I'd never met my grandfather-well, Candy's father-who died before I was  born. Pictures always showed a smiling, bald man with Malcolm X – style  glasses. I remember how jealous I used to feel, seeing the old home  movies of him carrying Sean on his shoulders, holding Kate as an infant.

Dad had been raised in an orphanage, back in the days when they had  orphanages here in the United States. My mother's parents had never met  me, according to Candy. They'd sent birthday cards until I was about  ten. Otherwise, Gram-Gram was it.

At least she was fantastic. I waited while she doused herself with  rose-scented perfume that made my sinuses itch, combed her hair, fussed  with her earrings, put on a scarf, took it off and finally was ready to  go. "Shall we bring Ollie?" I asked.

"Oh, yes! He'll help me stand out in that crowd of shriveled hags. Men love dogs."

"Good point. Come on, Ollie, let's go." I scooped up my dog, who was looking extra cute today, and kissed him on the head.

The Village of the Damned did a nice job of offering different things.  Cooking classes, tai chi, dancing, crafts, holiday parties, outings...  It was just that not many people seemed to want to do them. Or weren't  able to do them.

As Gram-Gram predicted, there were roughly thirty women in the gym and  three men. Each man had at least four dance partners vying for his  attention.