Oh God.
I could see it so clearly. Mrs. Patterson across the street probably had her curtains pulled back, watching these suited men walk the block at night.
Mr. Johnson—with his old, nosy ass—next door with those stupid binoculars wasdefinitelyasking questions.
And the church ladies?
They were probably having an emergency meeting about it right now, speculating over too sweet tea and pound cake.
"They're very respectful," Grandma continued. "I get out the car with my groceries, and they run right over to take them. And from what I’ve seen, they don’t do that for anyone else, so they’ve definitely taken a liking to me. One of them—sweet young man—said he's going to paint my porch for me tomorrow. You know I had those cans of white paint sitting out there for a month waiting for No-good Roger to do what he said he'd do. These boys gonna do it tomorrow. For free. Such nice young men."
I put my hand on my chest because my heart was aching.
My grandma had armed yakuza helping her with groceries and home repairs, and she thought it was just cultural politeness.
It was one thing for Kenji to spoil me, but to spoil my grandma. . .well that would keep me next to him for life.
"Yesterday, I made them some cookies. Chocolate chip pecan. You know, my special recipe that got the sheriff to lower myspeeding ticket. I took them right on over there and they was bowing and everything. So much respect. I started bowing too."
My throat tightened with emotion. "I bet they loved those cookies."
"Lord, child, they went crazy over them cookies! Ate every single one right in front me like they hadn't had a home-cooked meal in years. Crumbs was exploding all over the place. Would have put shame to the Cookie Monster himself. He might have gasped at how they were acting.”
I laughed so loud it startled the guards.
“They've got muscles, but they’re still so tiny and skinny for Charleston. I don't think they're getting enough food, bless their hearts. So, after they paint that porch, I'm gonna make them up something real nice to eat. A proper southern meal. Get them to sit down and eat right. They order too much food. Delivery people always zipping over there. Bags and bags of fried stuff. No, ma’am. Can't have them running around doing all this work for Grandma on empty stomachs."
"That's sweet of you."
"Well, they're sweet boys. Very respectful. And anybody who helps this old woman deserves a good meal."
My chest ached with affection for her—this woman who would adopt an entire yakuza protection detail just because they fixed her fence and carried her groceries.
"Grandma, you've got to snap a picture of them for me and send it."
"Now Nyomi, why would I do that?"
"I'm just. . .intrigued. Maybe when they're painting the porch?"
"We'll see. Maybe. Now let me go, baby, it's too late. I can’t stay up like I used to. Grandma been stressed all day about you. Now I can calm down, turn on the news, and get some sleep.”
“I understand.”
“But I'm so glad my grandbaby is doing okay. Now I thought Tokyo was safe. Didn’t know they was bombing over there. Now you get back to the States soon, you hear?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"And baby, with all that bombing mess, you make sure that island man is treating you right and keeping you safe. If something happened to my grandbaby, I'd have to fly over there and handle it myself. You hear me?"
"Yes, Grandma. I love you."
"Love you too."
The line went dead, and I stood there on the stairs, phone still pressed to my ear, and unable to move.
The guards waited silently behind me, giving me space.
Wow. . .
