Crush(36)

Relief was all I felt. I’d stayed away from him because I thought he’d be disappointed that I didn’t follow through with the plan that would have, without a doubt, put Tommy and Patrick away for life, and in doing so, eased the hold Patrick had over my old man. I feared he’d think that I’d pretty much f*cked it all up by picking Elle. Sure, Tommy and Patrick would still do prison time, but nothing like the life sentence they would have been given had the transaction been witnessed by the DEA and the source of the cocaine identified.

“How do you feel about this girl?” he asked, his voice going soft, quiet.

Done trying to deny anything, I admitted, “I love her.”

“Does she prefer winter or summer?”

I shrugged.

“What’s her favorite movie?”

I shrugged again.

“Does she like chocolate?”

I raised my brow. “I’m not certain. What’s with the twenty questions?”

He blinked a few times. “Come here,” he said, reaching for me.

I eased forward.

“If you love her like you say you do, then you’ll find out even the smallest details about her. It’s your business to know what her favorite flower is, her favorite smell, color. If she likes a table or prefers a booth. Would rather stay home and watch a movie or go out. Remember, Logan, it’s the little things that matter the most. And always, always, say good morning and good night. Never let a day go by without that.”

More wisdom.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I don’t know all of those things yet, but I love her.”

He leaned closer and took my head between his hands. “I know you do. I know you do. Now the hard part begins—showing her every day that you do, no matter what.”

He was choking up and the emotion was overwhelming. He wasn’t an affectionate man and when he became emotional, it was usually out of anger. In that regard, I was a carbon copy of him. The change in demeanor compelled me to hug him. As I started to wrap my arms around his big body, he bear-hugged me so tight I almost couldn’t breathe. For nearly thirty seconds we stayed that way and then we broke apart.

My grandfather cleared his throat. “I’m so proud of you for so many things. I don’t think I tell you that often enough. But I want you to know, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret having kept you in Boston. I should have made your father move to New York City when your mother asked him to after you were born. Or I should have at least made you start high school there. If I hadn’t been so selfish, you would never have been a part of this f*cked-up world of mine.”

I shook my head back and forth. “Don’t say that, Gramps. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me in my life. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have known what was real. I wouldn’t have understood what it meant to be grounded. I am who I am mostly because of you.”

Tears streamed down that old man’s face.

“I mean it, Gramps. I love you.”

With a lift of his hips, he took a hankie from his pocket. “Enough,” he said as he blew into the white cloth. After he stuffed it back in his pocket, he said, “Over in the top middle drawer of my dresser is a silver box. Bring it to me.”

The emotional litany having affected me as well, I was thankful to be able to get up and walk around. The box was one I remembered from the house. It had been in his room and I was pretty certain it belonged to my grandmother. I’d never really paid much attention to it but as I picked it up, I noticed that although it had a very slim shape it was heavy. And the box itself was quite ornate. Scrollwork embellished the sides, and in the center of the top was an oval with a coat of arms.

Suddenly curious as to what it was, I handed it to my grandfather. “Here you go.”

He took it with both hands and carefully set it on the table beside him. “Do you know what this is?”

“No.”

With great care, he set his hand on the top of it, like it was precious. “This box was given to me by your grandmother’s father. Millie and I weren’t even eighteen when we got married. We were so young, but we were determined to leave Ireland. Her father had no money to give us and he knew going to America was going to be a hardship on his daughter. I tried to reassure him that I would take care of her, but he wanted to ensure that she would be okay. That’s why he gave me this. In case I ever needed something so badly, and had no way of getting it.”

My brows bunched.

With his hand still on it, he went on. “It’s a snuff box and it belonged to his great-great grandfather. I’m not sure what it was worth in 1956 when it was given to me, but I had it appraised in the seventies when all the violence on the streets got out of hand. At the time I was thinking of taking my family and disappearing and wanted to see how far it would take us.”

“How much was it worth then?” I asked curiously.

“One-point-one million.”

Shocked, I gasped. “And you leave that in your dresser? Shouldn’t you lock it up?”

“Na, everyone thinks it’s just a cheap box.”

I couldn’t believe it. I’d had no idea.

Moving past its history, he opened it up and took out two key rings. With shaky fingers he managed to pocket one of the keys before holding the other up to show me. “This key is to a safety deposit box at the Chase Bank over on Washington Street near Franklin Park. Do you know which bank I’m talking about?”