“True, true.” I scratched my chin. “I bet Marty has one.”
Marty ran the local hardware-slash-tchotchke store, and he usually had a little bit of everything. He’d saved us from having to make a trip out to one of the big-box stores on more than one occasion.
Leo pulled out his phone and called. After a quick conversation, he verified that Marty did have the piece in question and would hold it for us.
I sent him a thumbs-up, proud of how he’d kept on top of even the smallest details. Despite some initial worries, living with Leo had been going well, and his work ethic in school and on the job had continued to impress me.
“If you want, I can go get it and bring us back some coffees and a tea for Mr. Paige,” he offered.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the truck keys, along with my business credit card. “Go for it. Since it’s close to lunchtime, grab some sandwiches for us while you’re at it.”
Leo made a fist and drew it down victoriously. “Yes. And I’m getting double meat.”
“Leo, buddy, whenever I buy a sandwich for you, I assume it’s double meat. Get me double meat as well.”
We looked at Ren, who raised his hands with a cute little smirk on his face. “Sorry, gentlemen. I’m a single-meat kind of man.”
Maybe I hadn’t spent enough time with Ren prior to Mr. Paige’s death, but his humor surprised me.
Leo cracked up and clapped his hand on Ren’s shoulder as he made his way out of the bathroom. “You’re funnier than you look, Ren.”
“How do I look?”
“Like you might quote Shakespeare at me.”
“I teachAmericanliterature,” Ren called out as Leo made his way down the stairs. “I would never quote Shakespeare at you. Only Hemingway or Morrison. Also, get me a London Fog and a turkey sandwich.”
“You got it!”
Leo noisily made his way out of the house, letting the door slam behind him.
“He’s not exactly the quietest human on the planet, is he?” Ren asked, looking up at me, closer than I’d realized.
I pasted on a grin. “Leo? Quiet?Never. Also, I’m surprised you’d quote Hemingway before Salinger.” His son, Holden, was named after the main character inThe Catcher in the Rye.
Ren shrugged. “You have a point, but Hemingway is more quotable.”
“I’ll take your word on that,” I said, grinning.
“Do you think this is going to be a complicated fix?” he asked.
“No… and can I ask why Mr. Paige is in the bathroom?”
“It’s where he asked to be placed,” Ren said, shaking his head with a fond smile.
“Why does that not surprise me?” I chuckled, glad to see him somewhat happy.
“Because you knew the man very, very well.” His gaze shifted between me and the urn. “It’s strange, how things ended up.”
He didn’t elaborate, but he didn’t have to. I shoved my hands into my pockets, lifting my shoulders. “‘All things truly wicked start from innocence.’”
I wasn’t sure what I was calling wicked: Mr. Paige’s death, or what Ren and I had done together.
Ren narrowed his eyes at me. “Wait. Areyouquoting Hemingway at me?”
“Maybe,” I said, losing myself in the amused expression on his lips.
“Show-off.”
