“She’s a great friend.”
“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently, clearly not pleased that he’d been assigned a babysitter. “Now, Deidre mentioned that Connor’s taking you to a fancy dance party. When is that?”
“It’s Friday night, but I’m not going, Grandpa. You know I hate to dance. I didn’t even bring a formal dress to wear.”
“Ah, lass. You used to love to dance.”
“Not so much anymore.”
“You go to the dance,” Grandpa insisted. “Connor deserves to dance with his beautiful girl.”
“He’ll have to live with the disappointment,” she muttered, and quickly changed the subject. “How are Lydia and Vincent doing?”
“Och, they’re randy as two goats.”
She chuckled. “Grandpa, they are goats.”
But he was already laughing so hard at his little joke that he began to cough.
“Grandpa, drink some water. You’re going to choke.”
“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice was scratchy and he coughed another time or two. “Och, I haven’t laughed like that in years. You’re a tonic for me, Maggie.”
She smiled. “I really do miss you, Grandpa.”
“You’ll be home soon enough, lass, soon enough,” he said. “I’m pleased that you’re getting out and about. You take some time and have fun with your Connor. And drink plenty of beer. It’s good for you.”
“I know, Grandpa. I love you.”
“You’re a good lass,” he said softly, and Maggie understood it was his version of I love you.
They ended the call and Maggie sat and stared at the phone for a few seconds before she realized her eyes were damp. She wiped them dry; then with more resolve than courage, she left the stall, exited the bathroom and stepped out into the corridor.
“Maggie!”
She glanced around and spotted Connor waving at her from halfway down the football-field-length hallway. She didn’t see any of the women with him, thankfully, so she waved and walked toward him. He met her midway.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.
“You looked busy a few minutes ago, so I went to use the bathroom and then called my grandfather.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He sounded fine. Your mom’s already been there a bunch of times, so I know he’s well looked after.”
“Good.” He slipped his arm around her shoulder, out of habit or companionship or something more significant, Maggie couldn’t tell. But it felt so good to be this close to him. She breathed in the hint of citrus-and-spice aftershave, reveled in the protective warmth, loved that they fit together so perfectly, even if it was just for this brief moment. For so many years, she’d been unwilling to admit to herself that she had missed him, missed these moments of closeness with him. Life with her ex-husband had never been warm or cozy. Just cold. She shivered at the memory.
“Hey, Connor, over here.”