“Goddamn it! The pie!” Grandpa said. He used the banister to turn himself around, but when he tried to lift his casted leg to climb, he paused. I could imagine the scowl on his face. “Fine! Help me up,Silas.”
Si left the suitcases on the sidewalk, then ducked through the door and under Grandpa’s arm, wrapping his hand around Grandpa’s waist, then proceeded to mostly carry the shorter man up thestairs.
It would have been amusing if I wasn’t dreading my ownclimb.
But I hadn’t taken more than two halting steps up when Si jogged back down the steps to me and held out hishand.
“I’m fine,” I told him, holding the railing with two hands. “But on second thought, if youcouldmaybe get Daphne and thesuitcases…”
I barely registered Si’s huff before he grabbed me over his shoulder and hauled me up thestairs.
I shrieked. “What the hell are youdoing?”
“Being efficient,” he said. He set me down at the top of the stairs, in the tidy living room where my grandfather was already sitting in his ancient, green recliner in front of the football game. “Wecouldhave had a whole drawn out argument, and in the end, you would have agreed because you’re a reasonable person. But I’ve only known you an hour and I swear we’ve already had that conversation twice, Ev. So, you know.” He shrugged and gave me a smile. “Efficient.”
It was mildly mortifying that his smile – ten times more devastating now that I could really see him properly – made me hesitate. But by the time I’d regained my wits enough to argue, he’d already moved into the kitchen, which was the next room back from thestreet.
“Pie’s out!” he said. He strolled back into the living room with an ice pack in one hand and a dishtowel slung over the other. “And don’t you tell me you made that delicious-looking thing, Henry Lattimer, or I’ll call you aliar.”
Grandpa’s cheeks, which had already been red from either his climb down the stairs or the way Si had hauled him back up, blushed a deeper red. “Diane Perkins brought dinner,” he said. He gave Si a defiant look. “She knew Everett wascoming.”
“Ah,” Si said. His eyes found mine, and he grinned. Then he seemed to realize that I was still standing next to the stairs. “Let’s get you to thecouch.”
But when he approached me, I slapped his hand away and belatedly hobbled across the room to sit down on the plush burgundy couch that used to be in my Grandma Anna’s livingroom.
I didn’t need to be manhandledorcoddled. And I was wary of the strange closeness that seemed to spring up fully-formed between Silas and me. I’d never been that way with anyone before, sure as hell not within anhour. I didn’t trustit.
Si held out the icepack wrapped in the towel. “At least put ice on it,” he saidimpatiently.
“I don’t have a broken leg, Si, I bruised my knee. I’m perfectlyfine.”
Grandpa Hen sighed. “That’s whatItried to tell the doctor,” he said plaintively. “It’s just a bruise! But nobody believedme.”
I glanced at Si, then at Grandpa, then back to Si. His blue eyes were mocking. “Runs in the family,then?”
I knew he wasn’t talking aboutbruises.
“Fine.” I snatched the ice out of his hand and set it on my knee. Iwasreasonable. Just apparently not inO'Leary.
“I’ll just bring up Daphne and the suitcases,” he said way too cheerfully, then he took off down the stairs,whistling.
From across the room, I studied my grandfather. He was watching the football game avidly, the remote control gripped in one hand. It seemed he’d forgotten I wasthere.
“O’Leary, New York is going to make me a murderer,” Igrumbled.
“Let me go ahead and embroider that on a tea towel,” Grandpa said. Then he turned the volume up before I couldreply.
