Aunt Judith looks tired, like someone has sent her through the heavy wash cycle and left her to hang drysomewhere. She glances up when I walk into the room and gives me a nod.
Grandpa sits up and waves me over.
I bend down and give him a hug. “It’s good to see you down in the living room.”
“I was halfway scared someone would redecorate if I didn’t come down here myself.”
“Harper took an interior design class last summer,” I tell him with a grin. “I’m sure she’d be up to the task.
Grandpa shudders.
He loves Harper, but Harper loves bright colors. So far, she seems to have escaped most of Kevin’s bad qualities. She might be equally loud, and it works for her, but Grandpa’s design taste doesn’t exactly run to hot-pink cheetah print.
I sit down in the chair next to Grandpa.
Kevin and the lawyer don’t even seem to notice that I’m here. They’re standing in front of the hearth, pointing back and forth. They look like two little kids poking each other and insisting,I didn’t touch you.
I reach for the mints and grab a handful of something else. “What happened to those good chocolate mints you used to keep in here?” I ask, coming away with a handful of pistachios.
“The doctor has hidden all tasty treats in this house.”
I shake my head. “Grandpa, I wouldn’t be surprised if he put a padlock on the fridge.”
“He told me I’m only allowed to eat things that are good for my heart and that I shouldn’t put too much stress on it right now. He’s trying to kill me with a joyless life.”
“Yep. He sounds downright awful,” I agree. “Why wouldn’t he just bring you a bowl of sugar and a spoon and let you have at it?”
Grandpa scowls at me. “Don’t go siding with that guy. He’s making my life miserable.”
“He’s keeping you alive,” I remind him.
“I think Magnolia’s keeping me alive,” Grandpa says.
I jerk my head up at that. “What do you mean by that?” I ask a little sharply.
“I have hope that I’ll get to see my great-grandchildren someday. You know, she once told me in a conversation that she couldn’t wait to have a family of her own. If you two could hurry up and get married and give me a great-grandchild by next year, that would be great.”
“Oh, sure,” I reply dryly. “I’ll get right on that.”
Grandpa smiles at me. “You did well, picking her.”
“No more talking about Magnolia. I want to talk about your health. You’re looking great.”
“I’m not done talking about Miss Magnolia,” Grandpa grumps. It still makes me smile that he calls her that. “I like seeing you with someone that makes you happy. I’ve been so worried. When you told me about your fiancée, you didn’t talk about her the way she really is.”
I clear my throat. “You know I’m a horrible communicator.”
“Thank goodness for that, because I thought she was after your money. She laughed and told me she wanted the prenup because she didn’t want to share her whiskey collection.”
Of course she did, I think to myself. Because she’s witty and funny—and we’re not actually getting married.
“You really like her?” I ask, because this is not how I pictured this conversation going. I was imagining coming in and telling Grandpa that we’d had a big argument and decided to go our separate ways.
“I see the way you look at her. That’s enough for me. And she just seems like the nicest person.”
“I’m not sure I’d call her nice,” I say wryly. “Maybe sassy.”
Grandpa laughs. “You need someone who will keep you in line. I think she’ll do that job quite well.”
