6

TUESDAY MORNING, MY FIRST THOUGHT IS THAT Grampa and I can go to the Tuesday Thrift after school, and then my second hits like a punch in the stomach—Grampa’s still in the hospital. Mom lets me stay home another day, and we go back by Grampa’s to get his pillow and a blanket from his bed. “I’m going to swing by the CVS and print out some pictures of you two for his room and grab him some earplugs. Are you sure you’re up for helping Archie?” she asks once we’re back in the car.

I nod. “He’s counting on me. I think I’d feel worse if I didn’t do it, and I’m sure Grampa would want me to.” She pulls up to the Tuesday Thrift and parks. Grampa and I always work with Archie on his window displays. I do want to help Archie, but the whole truth is the idea of seeing Grampa in the hospital again makes my stomach feel twisty.

Mom smiles and honks a goodbye as I walk across the parking lot. When I open the doors, Archie’s not in his usual spot at the register, and I have a minute to look around by myself.

At the start of each aisle is something strange and amazing—items that have what Archie calls the “wow factor.” This week there’s a barrel painted to look like a Campbell’s Soup can, a vintage grocer’s scale, a chair with rabbit ears, and a three-foot-tall vase shaped like a dress with a bouquet of fake flowers sitting where the head should be. Like Archie says, you never know what will call to a person’s heart.

The front window is behind a little gate, and there’s a short set of stairs, sort of like a stage. It’s still set up with the same scene we created last time. Each of the mannequins is wearing a swimsuit and sunglasses. Over to the side are two beach towels and a basket stuffed with some plastic fruit.

Archie named the mannequins Regina and Carl. Regina has on a wig that someone dropped off and Grampa couldn’t resist wearing it the whole time we worked—he looked 100 percent ridiculous. When he climbed the ladder to hang a beachball so that it looked like it was in midair, he said, “I can’t see a thing with these bangs in my eyes.” Archie laughed so hard he had to sit down.

“Regina is forever going to remind me of your grampa now.” Archie walks out from the back room. I give him a hug, and he says, “You didn’t need to come today, but I’m sure happy to see you.” He holds me out at arm’s length. “Bobby’s as tough as a steel-toed boot. I know he’s going to be okay. How are you and your mom doing?”

“We’re good. Mom’s going to pick me up in a little while, and we’ll head to the hospital. But I thought I’d stop by here and help you with this window. Not really swimsuit season anymore,” I say.

“What do you say we set up a football-themed window. Dress them in team colors and even put out a TV I just unloaded in the storeroom?” Archie asks.

I nod and we get to work. Without Grampa it’s harder than usual, but Archie and I manage to take everything down. While I try to put a pair of crimson-and-cream-checked pants on Carl, which is more difficult than it sounds, Archie looks over and says, “You never know what’s going to be special for someone. Take those pants, for instance.”

I laugh and he finds a pair of pom-poms for Regina. Archie brings a small console and a TV that is so old it’s not anywhere near flat. It takes all my strength to help him position the loveseat. But by the time we’re done, we’ve created a little living-room scene.

Archie pulls a real cloth handkerchief from his shirt pocket, wipes his brow, and hands me a butterscotch. We unwrap our candies, pop them in our mouths, and look at our window for a minute. Butterscotches from Archie give me the same feeling my Amberina basket does.

“Something’s not right. Just a minute.” I run off down one of the aisles and come back with a book and a pair of reading glasses. Archie works on posing Carl so that it looks like he’s reading.

We step back again. Archie nods and says, “Football’s not for everyone. What do you say we take a photo and send it to your grampa?”

“He’s going to be okay.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but as soon as the last word leaves my mouth my eyes fill with tears.

Archie puts his arm around me. “I know he is, sweetheart.” He shakes his head and nods toward Regina. “You know, someone wanted to buy that hairpiece and I said no. Couldn’t bring myself to let go of it yet. Not sure if I’d call that wig a heart find, but it’s funny how things work, isn’t it? I wonder if maybe some heart finds are temporary, like they remind you of a moment for as long as you need it.”

Archie gives me a hard stare. “Your grampa has been through worse. He’ll get through this too. And this time he’ll have us to help him.”

I nod as Mom pulls in. “I have an idea.” I walk over to Regina and lift the wig off her head. “Mind if I borrow this? I’ll bring it back on our way home.”

“Not at all.” Archie looks over at bald Regina and says, “Oh Lord, now she looks even more like your grampa.”

The wig earns a frown from Mom and a couple of long stares at the hospital, but it’s worth it when I walk into Grampa’s room. At first he doesn’t notice because I stand behind Mom, but when he does, he laughs loud and hard.

He doesn’t try to talk the whole time we’re there, so Mom takes all that quiet and fills it with chatter about her upcoming table. When we leave, he pats my back with his left hand and says, “Love you, Mae-mae.”

“Love you too, Grampa.” But it’s so hard for him to say those three words that I end up crying on the way home.

Mom looks over at me. “Why are you crying? You got him to laugh for the first time since he’s been admitted. You did good today.”

I try to smile. But maybe helping others only helps if you don’t feel like you caused the problem in the first place.