Rio gave out a little gasp. “Are you in pain?” She reached for the suitcase handle. “I’ll take that. Youdidn’t seem to limp when I saw you on the ...” Her face turned crimson. “Wesaw you on the news,” she quickly added. “He watches BBC Sport just for news on you.”
The spacious living room, with its calming colors and the vast yard reflected in the large French doors, reminded me why I bought this house. It was meant to be a haven I'd use once a year during visits, but life got too hectic, and I’d only used it twice since.
Walter moving in had turned this place into a home. I never expected Rio to live here, but when Simon mentioned she was looking for a place, I offered the house rent-free if she could keep an eye on Walter. It was a win-win.
Back then, they didn’t know each other, but when I called to ask how the introduction went, he feigned indifference. “She’s okay. She can play Scrabble so I wouldn’t mind if she wanted to live here.”
“You challenged her to a game?” Scrabble-obsessed Walter was always on the lookout for worthy opponents. He could terminate a friendship over Scrabble-related arguments.
“I was just organizing my kit when she showed up,” he lied.
“She beat you,” I guessed.
“Beginner’s luck,” he muttered.
“She equinoxed you?” I laughed, referencing a word he boasted beating others with.
Now Walter stood by the sofa and motioned his hand at the house. “Rio and I are keeping the house in good condition for you.” He obviously misinterpreted the way I skimmed the room. “If you want me to move out, all youhave to do is say so. There’s room at the Sandy Hills senior home in Riviera View. Rio’s friend, January, works there.”
“Don’t be silly, Grandpa. I don’t want you to move out.”
“Oh, now I’m silly.”
“Are you sure you’re okay to climb the stairs with that knee?” Rio jumped in before I could reply. She was already buffering.
“Positive.”
“You see? You need the downstairs suite. I’ll move out,” Walter said. He might have tried to sound unconcerned, but I could hear the challenge in his tone. He was like an eighty-year-old kid, testing the boundaries and looking for reassurance.
Rio glimpsed at me, trying to suppress a smile, probably detecting the same thing.
“I’ll be fine upstairs. No one’s moving out,” I said.
“It’s not like you’ll stay long,” Walter mumbled.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come more often. I’m sorry. But I plan on staying a while this time.”
“You don’t call very often, too. Texts. Some invention! Texts, so that people can decide not to call other people,” Walter harrumphed.
My head began to throb as much as my knee, but I suppressed a sigh when I spoke. “I’m sorry. Just with the time difference ... I know you were worried when I was injured, but you shouldn’t be. Injuries are part of my job. I’ve had them all—torn ligaments, torn meniscus, reconstruction surgeries.”
Rio passed by me on the way to the stairs. “He’s just cranky because he’s tired. He’s usually in bed by nine-thirty,” she whispered.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Grandpa.” I patted his shoulder as I passed, debating whether to offer a hug. I would, if he were the type to welcome one.
“You’re getting on well with him,” I said when I reached Rio at the bottom of the stairs.
“Because I can out-crank him,” she whispered with a grin. I loved the way her eyes always participated in her smiles.
I laughed—really laughed—for the first time in weeks. “And out-Scrabble him.”
Taking the suitcase handle from her, I hoisted it onto my shoulder, steadying it with one hand while grabbing the banister with the other.
Upstairs, my suite door stood open. Across the hall, Rio’s was closed—I knew it was hers by the vase of fresh flowers on the side table by the entrance, a twin to the one outside mine.
I shut my door behind me and sat on the bed, rubbing my knee over the padded brace.
A large bowl of fresh fruit sat on the dresser across from me, along with what looked like protein bars. My stomach grumbled as I walked over. A handwritten note peeked out from beneath the bowl.
