Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(47)

“Oh,” Ethan replied, his expression more bewildered than ever.

Olivia gave a great sigh and lowered herself back down onto the sofa. “So,” she said, “You’re Ethan Allen Doyle.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And, you’ve come to see your grandpa?”

“Yes ma’am,” Ethan answered. “Is he here?”

The boy had the same blue eyes as Charlie, the same look of earnestness, the same way of tearing at Olivia’s heart. Obviously he knew nothing of what had happened. “Well now…” she stammered, the popcorn she’d eaten at the movie theatre was exploding all over again; kernel after kernel bursting open, hammering buttery little holes in her chest. “He’s not here,” she finally blurted out, “but, you and I are, and we’ve got lots to talk about.” She jumped up and began plumping some sofa pillows that weren’t the least bit mussed. “Of course, before we get to all of that,” she said nervously, “we ought to have ourselves a cup of cocoa and something to eat. You look like a boy who’s been travelling, and I’ll just bet your poor little tummy is practically turned inside out from hunger.” Olivia headed into the kitchen and motioned for him to follow. Moving about in a fidgety sort of way, she flung open the refrigerator, “Let’s see now,” she rambled on, “I’ve got boiled ham, cheddar cheese, tuna fish salad, cherry pie—any of those things strike your fancy? I could warm up a bit of sweet potato casserole, how’s that sound?”

Ethan Allen, feeling a bit overwhelmed, said, “You got peanut butter?”

“Peanut butter?” Olivia once again found herself wishing she and Charlie could exchange places. “Honey, I don’t have any peanut butter. You could’ve asked for a dozen different things and I’d have had them, but I don’t have peanut butter.” She began another rundown of all the other things she did have.

Ethan watched as the woman flitted from one side of the kitchen to the other, opening cupboard after cupboard, fidgeting her hands, shuffling her feet, never settling in any one spot. Every time he looked at her, she’d glance off in some other direction. He’d decided on a ham sandwich, but she set three in front of him, along with a helping of potato salad and two cup cakes. Without anybody even asking, she’d given Dog a bowl of water and some broken up pieces of meatloaf. In Ethan’s book, people didn’t go around doing stuff like that—unless they were up to something. He eyed her suspiciously for a good long while; then he asked, “Are you my grandma?”

“Me?” Olivia gasped. “Me?” With the look of a woman who couldn’t fathom the carrying of another burden, she lowered herself into the chair directly across from Ethan. “Because of my being married to your grandpa, Charlie Doyle, I suppose I would legally be considered your grandma, but only in the most formal sense. See, grandparents and grandchildren have relationships that go way back in time—you and I, why we’ve just met. We hardly know each other, and given such a circumstance, you wouldn’t actually regard me the same as you would a blood relative grandma.”

“Oh. Okay then. I suppose I could do with just having a grandpa.”

Olivia looked at the boy’s blue eyes and wanted to cry. How many times can you lose somebody you love, she wondered. Do they just keep coming back, forever and ever and ever? How long did she have to pay for having twenty-one days of happiness? She gave a sigh so deep it had the sound of something hauled up from the basement of her soul. “Ethan Allen,” she moaned, “it truly breaks my heart to have to tell you this, but your dear sweet grandpa passed on nine months ago. It happened in Miami Beach, Florida, while we were still on our honeymoon.”

“Grandpa’s dead?”

“Yes, honey. I would have notified—”

“Aw, shit!”

“Shame on you, using such language. I know this is a shock, but—”

“You don’t know the half of it; I got no place else to stay.”

Olivia misunderstanding the meaning of his statement, said, “You can stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call your mama to come pick you up.”

“You can’t call Mama, ‘less you got a telephone that reaches up to heaven.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lady, my mama’s dead!”

“Well then, who brought you here? Your daddy?”

“Nobody brought me. I hitched.”

“Well then, I’m sure your daddy is quite worried about you.”

“No he ain’t. It breaks my heart to have to tell you this,” Ethan Allen said, sarcastically mimicking Olivia’s words, “but, my daddy’s dead too.”

Olivia clutched her chest in such a way you’d wonder if she was headed down the same pathway. “Who then,” she gasped, “…is taking care of you?”

“Nobody,” he answered. “I was figuring to stay with Grandpa, but if he’s dead, I suppose I gotta find someplace else.”

“Maybe another relative?” she asked hopefully.

Ethan Allen shook his head, “There ain’t no other relatives.”

It seemed to Olivia some days were simply too long and troublesome for their own good. When days like that happened along, a person should give up and toddle off to bed, forget about that day and start over again in the morning; which is precisely what she decided to do. She folded a bath towel for the dog to sleep on and fixed the boy a place on the sofa; then she poured herself a full glass of sherry and carried it into the bedroom.