Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(46)

The better part of an hour had passed by, before he finally gathered himself together and went back to apartment 7D. He positioned himself square in front of the door, with Dog partway behind, hopefully looking smaller than his actual size. “Hi, Grandpa, I come to thank you for all those dollars you been sending me,” Ethan mumbled in one final run through, then he straightened his back, forced a smile to his face, and pushed the doorbell. He waited for what seemed an awfully long time, then pressed his finger to the bell a second time. This time he heard the chiming, a muffled sound like the ringing of a steeple bell miles off, but once the sound of the bell died away there was nothing else—no shuffling of feet, no calling out just a minute, no sound whatsoever. He stood there a while longer then went back to the lobby and checked the mail slots again.

There it was, Westerly-Doyle, 7D. No other Doyle in the building.

Figuring Westerly to maybe be Grandpa Charlie’s real first name, Ethan Allen took the elevator back to the seventh floor and rang the bell again. Still no answer. With nowhere else to go, he had little choice but to wait.





Olivia

At one point I believed I would spend the rest of my life crying over Charlie; but Clara, bless her heart, has helped me to get over it. At first I saw her kindness as meddling and wished she’d leave me alone. I certainly to God am glad she didn’t.

At least I’ve got a life now. Not the real happy sort of life I had with Charlie, but it’s a whole lot better than it was after his death. I keep busy, but I still think about him every day and I can’t help but wonder if he’s looking down on me.

If he is, I certainly do hope he’s not put out about me getting rid of all his personal belongings. I doubt that he would be, Charlie’s simply not the sort.

Sometimes I have dreams where we’re back together again—they’re so real I wake up expecting him to be there, lying alongside of me. Whenever that happens, I keep my eyes shut tight and stay in bed. I keep hoping I’ll slide back into the dream; but of course I never do. If ever I do, I’m going to ask Charlie how he feels about me going to dances and parties.

Clara swears it’s what he would want me to do… but me, I’m not so sure.





Uninvited Guest

When Olivia and Fred McGinty, who on this particular evening had escorted her to the movie theatre, returned, they found the boy and his dog propped up against her apartment door—both of them sound asleep. “Stand back,” Fred, who was forever trying to impress Olivia, said, “I’ll handle this.” He kneeled down with his face on the same plane as the boy’s, “Wake up, son,” he said and gave the lad a gentle shake.

Ethan Allen, tuckered out from a full night’s lack of sleep and hard to rouse under the best of circumstances, tipped over onto the floor, still fast asleep. Dog however, jumped up and started barking so furiously you’d wonder if his head might pop off; the barking finally woke Ethan. The first thing the boy saw was Fred McGinty’s face—a face as round and happy looking as Santa Clause himself. “Grandpa Doyle,” Ethan said, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes and remember the speech he had planned.

“Doyle?” Fred McGinty gasped. He stood up so fast he almost toppled over. “You think I’m Charlie Doyle?”

“You’re not?”

Fred, who was as superstitious a man as ever lived, suddenly turned pale as paste. “What is this?” he asked angrily, “some sort of sick joke?”

Ethan Allen clambered to his feet. “Joke?”

“How’d you get in here? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m your grandson, Ethan Allen Doyle.”

Olivia’s hand flew up to her mouth. She drew in a gasp of air and then fainted dead away.

Fred, still reeling from the thought of the boy mistaking him for a dead man, caught Olivia half a heartbeat before she would have landed face down on the hallway floor. “Are you okay?” he asked, although her eyes were glazed over and her legs so rubbery they could barely keep her upright. “Are you okay?” he asked again, but the answer was obvious for she had the look of a woman who had seen a ghost He pried the key from her hand, unlocked the door and helped her inside. “You need to sit down,” he said gingerly guiding her to the sofa, “I’ll get you some water.”

Ethan Allen and his dog, both of whom had been forgotten, followed them inside the apartment. “I suppose I’ve come at a bad time,” he mumbled meekly, but made no attempt to leave. He waited a few minutes then looked at Fred and said, “I’m sorry I surprised you, Grandpa, but…”

“Stop calling me that!” Fred shouted. “I’m not your grandpa! Charlie Doyle is…”

Olivia bolted upright, “That’s enough, Fred! This boy’s come here to see his grandpa, which, as you well know, is none of your concern!”

“Well, I think he ought—”

“Nobody cares what you think! Just go home, I’ll handle this.” Olivia, having made a miraculous recovery, crisscrossed her arms over her chest and fixed her eyes in a hard set glare, which ultimately caused Fred to stomp off in a huff. While the bang of the door was still echoing across the room, she turned to the boy and in a voice given over to sweetness, said, “Honey, that man wasn’t your grandpa, he was just a neighbor.”