“Out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Mom!” Calliope’s cheeks flare red. “Stop!”
“Yes,” I reply. “I don’t think that’s out of the ordinary.”
“For a New Yorker, it is,” Betty replies.
“Mom!” Calliope’s voice pitches sharply, drawing Nick’s attention from whatever it is about the seatbelt that fascinates him so much.
“It’s fine.” I flash Calliope a soft smile. “I understand how this can look.”
“It doesn’t look any way at all. You’re doing me a favor and that’s it. Mom, stop putting him on the spot like that or he’ll turf us out right here!”
Betty doesn’t seem entirely satisfied but after a moment staring at me, she turns her attention back out the window and silence falls once more.
A pained wince flashes over Calliope’s face, then she turns back to her son. “Stop, baby. You’ll hurt your teeth.”
“Feels funny,” Nick replies, and he tries to offer the seatbelt to Calliope.
“No, thank you. You have to keep that around you so that you stay safe, okay?”
“I don’t like it.”
“I know, but it’s the best we have, so you just sit nice for me, okay?”
Nick blinks slowly and then suddenly huddles into Calliope’s side. “Okay.”
A subtle, warm smile flashes over her lips and she buries her face against the top of his head.
Adorable.
The rest of the drive passes quietly, and I pull up outside her home fifteen minutes later. A crumbling stone wall lines an empty garden filled with a lone swing covered in snow. The shoveled path leading up to the door sparkles under the glow of a nearby streetlight that flickers on and off. Nick immediately sprints off up the path toward the house, yelling loudly about the cold with Calliope rushing after him so he doesn’t fall. Betty follows after a pointed look at me, and I bring up the rear with my arms filled with the remaining groceries.
The rush inside to escape the cold is so quick that I’m swept into their warm little home without much time to process and find myself standing in a hallway as Calliope drags the bags from my arms with a soft thanks.
Warm red walls peek out from an array of framed photographs covering one wall, beneath which sits a coat rack heaving with various coats, scarves, and jackets. Below, a colorful shoe rack containing mostly children’s shoes threatens to trip me in the narrow hallway as Betty moves past. I sidestep her with a small smile and step into the living room.
Darkness shrouds the room with only a twinkle of the light from outside creeping in a drawn curtain. Warm light from the hall frames my shadow as I step in deeper, and suddenly, the lights above flicker on. Motion sensors, if I had to guess, handy for the elderly.
Calliope’s voice drifts from deeper within the house, along with a burst of laughter from Nick. The sound brings a smile to my face as I glance around at two couches covered in knitted blankets, a small coffee table heaving with mail-order catalogues, and an old television set that looks like it’s several decades out of date.
A small fireplace fills the farthest wall, surrounded by a dark wood fireplace on top of which sits an urn surrounded by flowers and a couple of photographs. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I step closer and get a better look at the pictures. Several of them are of the same man with Betty by his side, one contains the man and Calliope, and the last one in the middle holds all of them, Nick included. Judging by how Nick looks, this picture can’t be that old.
Which means this death wasn’t either. No wonder that call scared her so much.
“My dad,” comes Calliope’s voice from behind me. “He passed away last June.”
I spin on the spot, an apology ready for my snooping, but the sadness in her eyes as she stares past me morphs the apology. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Her brows twitch upward slightly and she looks at me as if there’s something else she wants to say, like I’m at the precipice of a dam waiting for the pressure to boil over. Sadly, nothing comes and the sadness in her eyes vanishes.
“Thank you so much for helping me today. I don’t know where I would have been without you.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Guess I owe you, huh?” She laughs softly, yet quickly sobers up. “Would you be willing to drive me back to work? I need to pick up my car.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I don’t mind at all.”
