Dumped a latte on my leg. Going home to shower and change so I might be late. It had been that kind of a day, but Gia was determined to clear her head before going to Ricky's. She was ridiculously nervous and she wasn't sure why. They'd apologized to each other over the years a thousand or more times, so it wasn't just the fact that she owed him an 'I'm sorry.' No, it probably had a lot more to do with the 'I want to be your girlfriend after all' bit that was making her clumsy and distracted.
Beside her on the seat was a to-go bag with a couple of sun-dried tomato and prosciutto sandwiches, Ricky's favorite from Ricardo's offerings. Thankfully, they were one of her favorites, too. She didn't wait for Ricky's response, but took off for home, pulling into the driveway less than ten minutes later. Snatching the paper bag along with her purse, she launched herself out of the car and hurried inside.
Granny G was on the phone in the kitchen, but Gia could tell by her tone and posture that it was just a social call. Her grandparents had lived in Midtown all their married lives, and had attended the same church for just as long. They had so many friends in their community, and the thought always made Gia glad. She and her grandmother exchanged a wordless greeting, Gia shoved her sandwiches into the refrigerator, and bustled off to her room.
After another record-breaking shower, Gia breezed back into the kitchen wearing a clean pair of leggings, a cropped denim jacket over a loose-fitting sundress, and a pair of flip-flops that would be easy to kick off so she could climb the ladder steps nailed to the trunk of the cork oak tree in whose branches Ricky's tree house was built.
"Hey, sweetie. You look cute." Granny G was off the phone now and stood at the stove stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. Gia came up behind her and peeked over her shoulder. Chicken and vegetable soup. A loaf of her grandmother's homemade bread sat on a cutting board on the counter. Simple fare for simple folks.
"Thanks, Gran. I spilled coffee all over myself at the end of my shift. Where's Gramps?"
"He's out working in his garden now that the day has cooled off. Would you mind hollering out the back door for him before you leave? Dinner is just about ready."
"Sure." Gia glanced at her phone to check the time. There was a message from Ricky.
Take your time. See you when you get here.
Her grandparents had the best back yard. It was large enough to have the whole troop over for barbecues, to host small gatherings for their church friends, and between the big trees, the detached covered patio with the two bench swings that made for quiet conversations, and the expansive kitchen garden, it was a wonderful place for kids—and grandkids—to grow up. Gia spotted her grandfather on his knees, his back to her, his shoulders hunched as he rocked a little with the motion of his efforts. He wore a ratty old straw hat that always made Gia smile. On the ground beside him was a stack of empty plastic seedling pots, his long-handled spade, a three-pronged garden fork, and a versatile hoe—sharp edges all facing down—his three favorite gardening tools. "Hey Gramps," she called out as she approached the pretty picket fence that surrounded the garden plot. "Gran says dinner is ready. Time to come in and wash up."
Her grandfather turned to look at her over his shoulder and waved at her with the little trowel he'd been using. "Perfect timing. That's the last of the tomatoes in the ground and I'm about done in." Leaning forward to brace his hands on the ground, he pushed to his feet and lifted his hat off his head.
As she watched from outside the fence, but not more than ten feet away, her grandfather's face went from exertion-tinted pink to ashen white, and then, as though in slow motion, he stumbled, took one listing step to the right, and then toppled to the ground like a felled tree.