Season of Change(102)
“We have new bedspreads upstairs,” Grace offered.
Faith sucked a spaghetti noodle into her mouth, leaving a tomato trail on her cheek. “Do you want to see?”
“I’d like that.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Slade said.
Three pairs of eyes turned to him.
“The stairs are steep.” A lame excuse, but the only one he had.
“Are you implying I’m too old to climb those stairs?” Takata speared a cherry tomato. “I’ll have you know I ride an exercise bike every morning while watching the news.”
“No, I’m just... There’s not much to see.” Slade tried to regain control. “Two bedrooms and a bathroom.”
“Three,” Grace said.
“Three bedrooms,” Faith clarified in a mock-helpful voice, sliding a glance toward their guest.
Which made no sense, unless...
Slade stabbed his fork into his spaghetti and glared at the old man. “Have you been talking to them?”
“Of course we’ve been talking. Your girls are very polite. Why wouldn’t they talk to me?” So innocently spoken. So artfully delivered. Takata should have had a career on the stage.
“I mean—” Slade gripped his fork until the flatware made an impression in his fist “—have you been telling them things they’re too young to hear?”
“No. Only that their grandparents died upstairs.” Takata bit into garlic bread that hadn’t been burned and salvaged.
Slade frowned.
“It used to scare us,” Grace said. “But he explained how the body is like a car and the soul is like the driver. And when the soul leaves, there’s just a car left here. So we shouldn’t be afraid of their bedroom, because both the car and the driver are gone.”
“Did our grandpa really hang himself upstairs?” Faith asked. “You’d never do that, would you, Dad?”
“No.” He’d prayed they’d never ask him that. He’d prayed they’d never wonder what kind of man he was to have tried or worry if he’d try again. “You had no right,” he rasped. He tugged at the collar of his shirt.
“Perhaps.” Takata’s gaze landed on Slade’s tie, attempting to find more weaknesses in his defenses. “But I’m old and I don’t have time to dance around issues, especially ones left dangling for too long.”
“Dad?” Grace touched his forearm.
“I’m fine.” He resisted the urge to touch the silk at his throat. He drew a deep breath and bared his teeth in an attempt to smile. “I’m fine. But there won’t be any tours after dinner, okay?”
The girls nodded, exchanging conspiratorial glances with their guest.
They’d tried to outmaneuver him, those three. And they seemed proud of it, despite the fact they’d accomplished nothing.
No door would be unlocked. No tour of the upstairs given.