CHAPTER TWO

Old, Not Stupid

Grandma was still puttering around the kitchen when my grandfather wandered into the house.

“Dinner ready?” he asked, hanging his flannel jacket up in the hall closet. “I could eat a horse.”

“I never understood what that meant,” I mused. “Why would anyone want to eat a horse?”

“Smartass.” He leaned down and gave me a kiss on the head. He smelled like aftershave and outdoors. And a faint, lingering hint of pipe tobacco.

“If Grandma catches you smoking, you can forget about dinner,” I told him.

“Cover for me. I’ll go jump in the shower.”

“She thinks you went to the store,” I told him. “Her memory is getting worse, isn’t it?” He studied me for a long moment and then smiled gently.

“She’s all right, Lucky. She’s just getting old.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is? Because she left the water running in the shower again this morning. It was like a rain forest in there.”

“You don’t have to worry. Grandma is fine. She’s just forgetful, I promise. It happens when you get old. You forget things. Like I forgot she doesn’t like me smoking and had a nice pipe and a coffee with Mr. Tate.” He winked.

“Oh, that’s hilarious. I’m sure she’ll love that one. Why don’t we call her in here right now and tell her?” I teased. This was our routine. I’d worry and he’d diffuse it with a joke. It usually worked.

“Don’t you dare! Just hold her off for five minutes while I shower.”

He tousled my hair and dashed from the room. Even at his age—which I was constantly reminding him was too advanced to be up on ladders or carrying furniture—he still moved at a pace faster than most teenagers.

I tried to ignore it like I always did, but something about Grandma was off, and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she needed to see her doctor. I had said as much to him before, but he always brushed me off. Grandma had been afraid of doctors since she was a kid, and no matter how you prepared her or promised it was just an exam, she was convinced one was going to randomly pop out and jab her with a needle or something.

“Did I hear your grandfather?” Grandma poked her head back into the living room, disheveled from the heat of the stove she had been standing over.

“Yeah. He’ll be down in a second. He just wanted a quick shower.”

She smiled. “Smoking that damned pipe again?”

“You know about that?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“I’m old. Not stupid, Lucky. Anyway, he probably needed it after helping Mr. Tate all day. Come grab the pot roast and put it out for me, would you?”

All I could manage was a weak nod. Sometimes I worried about her until I made myself sick. Then she’d be her usual self again like nothing had happened. My friend Alex said her grandparents were the same, so maybe Grandpa was right, and I was worrying for no reason. Then I thought about the shower that had run for so long that the bathroom was engulfed in a haze so thick I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.

“Lucky!”

“Right! Coming.” I’d think about it later, I decided, heading into the kitchen to grab the pot roast.