October screamed toward November with a rolling thunderstorm and a drenching rain, which transformed into sleet. We had no Halloween trick-or-treaters, so Grandpa watched another television special while Logan and I compiled his medical history. I selected samples of prescriptions my grandfather used and bagged them for analysis.
I’d confirmed his return with Harlan, who asked no questions about Grandpa’s vacation with family. That was a relief as I’m not good at lies, and Grandpa might not remember.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I tried to sound cheerful.
“I’ll walk you across the lawn and up your stairs. The steps might be icy.” Logan buttoned my coat, tightened the hood around my face, and kissed my nose.
I liked his sheltering arm around my shoulder as we plodded toward the garage, our faces turned down, avoiding the pelting ice. He waited until I produced a flashlight, in case the power went out.
“You could sleep in the house,” Logan said. “It’s a miserable night.” He stood on the small entry rug, jacket dripping.
“No, I don’t want to go back out in the weather, and my alarm rings at five thirty, which might be too early for you.”
“I’ll call you with the drug results.” Logan didn’t open the door.
“Knowing the truth about that will give me peace. I prefer to blame Grandpa’s forgetfulness on something other than aging.” I returned to where Logan stood, touched his cheek, and lifted my face in invitation.
When his lips touched mine, lightning followed by a thunderous boom caused us both to jump.
I giggled. “Wow! That was some kiss.”
“Should we see if it happens again?” Logan kissed me a second time, a lingering, tender kiss, unaccompanied by bright light or noise.
Despite the icy designs on the window the next morning, I felt like warm sunshine surrounded me. We were now in November, which meant no more October Punkin’-Chunkin’ shirts. I pulled on a yellow polo, much better suited to my coloring. The festivities Jane had arranged for the past month brought cash into the local businesses and tourists to Sea Side, as well as fostering goodwill in the community, but I happily dispensed with October’s ugly orange uniform.
I shucked off my heavy coat and headed to the kitchen, which smelled of pastries and a symphony of flavored teas.
Noelle handed me a steaming mug. “Coffee, don’t tell.”
“Umm. Thanks. Are your crumpets ready yet?” We had eight minutes to chat before the hour.
“I’ve mastered the timing. They’ll be ready when the front door opens.”
“Grandpa’s returning to Happy Days tonight.” I swilled down a big gulp to ensure I didn’t add details.
“Mom missed him. She says the residents are in different grief stages.” Noelle leaned against the counter. “I didn’t know either Sharp or Betty very well, but even I’m sad. Maybe it’s Sea Side’s small-town atmosphere, where everyone bonds.”
I eyed the clock. “Did Will apply for Sharp’s position at Happy Days?”
“He did, and I have an interview for Betty’s position this afternoon. Will and I think it’s a bit creepy that we’re both applying for dead people’s jobs.”
Incessant knocking indicated someone wanted inside before the big hand pointed straight up.
I peered around the corner. “It’s Jane. I’ll let her in.”
When I turned the key, Jane squeezed inside with four stacked boxes.
“I have new shirts for the employees.” Jane reminded me of a birthday cake candle as her fiery red hair topped an all blue outfit.
When she lifted the lid, my heart sank. No beautiful russet, dark green, burgundy, or apple-red Thanksgiving shirt colors. These were the same horrid orange as October’s shirts. The front lettering said THANKFUL TO BE IN SEA SIDE, MAINE, and the shop’s name and logo showed on the back. Surely December would be red, green, or white.
Jane, bubblier than usual, passed shirts to employees. “Oh Ladessa, I have the most amazing news. Remember the DNA place that wanted additional testing? They confirmed a match, but the man is dead. I’m going to be wealthy!”
Noelle emerged from the kitchen. “Don’t forget your friends.”
Jane’s enthusiasm waned as she spied Noelle. “Oh, you may not be happy, Noelle. Trent Sharp was my biological father. It’s his estate I’m receiving.”
“Really?” Noelle couldn’t mask the sarcasm in her voice.
“The estate lawyer said Trent specified amounts for people he’d wronged, and I get the rest.”
“Do you know if Will, his only nephew, got anything?” Noelle’s crossed arms told me she fought to curb her temper.
“Why should he? Will’s family has money, so he’ll be fine. My mother deserved this windfall. I’m sorry she can’t enjoy it, but I’ll take every penny that scoundrel bequeathed.” Jane’s exuberance and happiness seemed to devastate Noelle.
I moved between the two women. “Jane, you despised Trent Sharp because he treated your mother unfairly, yet you’re willing to accept the money.”
Jane bobbed her head, accenting her wavy red hair. “I am. This is Sharp’s guilt money, and I’ll delight in spending every penny.”
“Jane, did you know Trent Sharp was your father before hearing the results of the test?” I asked.
“The thought crossed my mind,” Jane admitted.
That comment moved Jane up to my number one suspect slot. “Did you know Sharp planned in his will to right the wrongs he’d done?” I persisted.
“Rumors aren’t facts. You’re a CPA. You should know that.” Jane did a finger-roll wave and headed for the front door. “I have a whole new life ahead.”
Noelle’s face looked as turbulent as last night’s thunderstorm. “How can she be happy about snatching Will’s inheritance? Will needed that money. He counted on it.”
I kept my mouth shut. I feared anything I said would feed Noelle’s rage and resentment. I slipped the orange November shirt over my head and offered one to Noelle.
“I’m not wearing that thing!” She flung the shirt on the counter and stalked to the kitchen.
After work I picked up Grandpa and we went to The Old Mill Inn, a restaurant Logan recommended. A harpist serenaded us as we enjoyed a lobster dinner in a room with a cheerful fire. As we concluded our meal with lemon sorbet and coffee, I decided to address the return to his apartment.
“Grandpa, will you be okay at Happy Days?”
“Yes. I’ve been concerned about Mary. I need to keep a watchful eye on things.”
“What things?” Tonight his conversation had been lucid, and I wanted to understand his comment.
“Gramford, Sharp, and Betty ran Happy Days, and only Gramford’s left.”
“Yes.” Where would this conversation lead?
“Mary Rollins should run Happy Days.” Grandpa added more sugar to his coffee.
“Is that what she wants?” I asked.
“She knows the people better than Sharp or Betty ever did.” He patted his lips with a napkin. “We must tell Logan about this restaurant.”
I rephrased the question he hadn’t answered. “Does Mary want to be in charge?”
“She should. Sharp received a big salary.”
I tried again. “Have you and Mary discussed her assuming the administrator’s position?”
Grandpa pushed away his sorbet glass. “I’m ready to go.”
His comment made me uneasy. He saw Mary as the natural replacement for Trent and Betty. I knew this revelation would keep me awake tonight long after the coffee’s caffeine wore off. Could my grandfather …? No. Impossible.
We pulled into the circular drive before nine, and Harlan Gramford and his two bichons waited near the front desk. He shifted the dog he held to the crook of his arm so he could shake hands with Grandpa.
“John Nolan, glad to have you back. Sunset has missed you.” He moved the dog a little closer, and Grandpa scratched the dog’s ears.
“I’ll grab his suitcases and help him get settled. We had a great dinner on the way back from Boston.” I noticed Grandpa’s puzzled expression and grabbed his arm. “Grandpa, help me with your luggage.”
I remembered the old saying about loose lips sinking ships. Had I made a critical mistake by mentioning a fictitious trip to Boston?