She's Up to No Good(23)

“Hi,” I replied guardedly, then pulled my hand from his and turned to my grandmother. “Let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted from the trip.”

“Not in the slightest. I’m old—I’m not infirm.” Taking Joe’s arm, she led him toward the cottage steps. “You’ll need to show me what that old bat of an owner has had done since I was here last. I’m not over the porch yet.”

I was still standing by the car. With a sigh, I opened the trunk and began lifting the bags out.

“Jenna!” Grandma called.

“I’ll get those,” Joe said from the steps.

Defeated, I followed them into the cottage, hoping he would leave soon but knowing my grandmother better than that.

The front door opened into a hall, with what appeared to be a living room on the right, a dining room on the left, the kitchen straight ahead, and a staircase next to the living room’s entrance. I looked at the stairs warily. My grandmother still lived in the house she had spent the better part of fifty years in with my grandfather, but she got one of those motorized chairs for the steps after Grandpa died. She said she was fine, but I knew she worried about falling, especially living alone. And she wasn’t going to let me help her up and down the stairs.

I followed their voices into the kitchen, which was tastefully done, with light wood cabinets and granite countertops. Grandma was shaking her head. “Where’s the charm? It was rustic when we spent summers here, but that was the appeal of it.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “That and the cool air of course. We had no air conditioning back then.”

“There are window units upstairs. But the house still doesn’t have central air.”

“What would be the point? If you don’t have the windows open, why are you even here? Joe, be a dear and open the windows for us.” He left her side and began doing as she said.

I came closer to her, talking low. “I know this place has sentimental value, but we might be better off somewhere without all the stairs.”

She looked at me like I had suggested we take up cannibalism. “You are as bad as your mother.” She raised her voice in a falsetto. “‘You can’t drive to Hereford because you don’t have a license. You can’t make it up a few stairs.’” She went back to her normal tone. “Next thing I know you’re going to be telling me I can’t have a drink.”

“You can’t. Mom said—”

Grandma put a finger in my face. “You would do well to cut that out. I’m not a child. And I won’t let you talk to me like I’m one.”

I fell silent, realizing I was in over my head. Yes, this trip had gotten my mom off my case for a week or two, but what was I actually doing? Had I come along to be helpful or to hide? It was looking like I wouldn’t be able to do either.

Joe returned, and I crossed my arms defensively, trying to make it crystal clear that whatever my grandmother intended, I was the opposite of interested.

“I’ll bring the bags in,” he said, noting my posture and turning to her. “Just let me know which ones go upstairs and which ones stay down.”

“Down?” I asked my grandma.

“The main bedroom is through there.” Joe gestured to another hallway off the kitchen. “Evelyn, I assume that’s where you’ll be?”

“Yes, darling, thank you. Jenna can have her pick of the upstairs rooms.”

When he excused himself, Grandma settled into one of the kitchen chairs. “Will you find me a glass of water?”

“What? Not gin?”

She smiled. “Well, if you’re pouring. Though I prefer vodka.”

I shook my head and began opening cabinets. After locating the glasses, I went to the refrigerator to see if there was a filter. “Tap is fine,” she called. “The water tastes better here. Always has.”

I crossed back to the sink and began to fill the glass, then realized something. “You and Joe seem to know each other well.”

“So?”

“He calls you by your first name.”

“What else would he call me?”

“If he just met you? Mrs. Gold.”

“I tell everyone to call me Evelyn.”

I stopped talking as I heard the front door open again and the sound of bags being set down. Going into the hall, I showed him which ones were my grandmother’s, and he carried them down the hall to put in her room. I started to lift mine when I heard Grandma’s voice. “You let Joe do that,” she said. She couldn’t see me, so I didn’t know how she knew I was bringing mine upstairs. “Men like to feel useful.”

The blood rose to my cheeks. There was no way he hadn’t heard her say that. Embarrassed, I picked up the bags and took them upstairs before Joe could return from the back of the house. I placed them at the top of the stairs, then went back down. I could pick a room later.

His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile when I came back into the kitchen. “Mom said to tell you that you have to come to the restaurant,” he told my grandmother.

“I doubt we’ll go into town tonight, but we will this week, of course.” She looked up at him warmly. “It’s good to see you, Joe.”

Reaching down to squeeze her arm, he said, “You too.” He looked back at me. “I’ll let you two get settled in. My number is on the counter if you need anything at all.”