Too Good to Be True(59)

When Dancin’ with the Oldies was done, Julian kissed my cheek and said farewell. Mémé watched and waited, vulturelike, so I could follow her, slavelike, to her apartment. I knew from experience that if I told her she’d hurt my feelings, she’d just make it worse, tell me I had no sense of humor and then call my dad to complain about me.

Resigned, I took the handles of her wheelchair and pushed her gently down the hall.

“Edith,” Mémé said loudly, stopping a fearful looking woman in her tracks. “This is my granddaughter, Grace.

She’s visiting me. Grace, Edith is new here.” A Grinchy smile spread over her face. “Did you get any visitors this week, Edith?”

“Well, actually, my son and his—”

“Grace comes every week, don’t you, Grace?”

“I do. I help with the ballroom dancing class,” I said. “You’d be more than welcome to come.”

“Oh, I love dancing!” Edith cried. “Really? I can just stop in?”

“Seven-thirty to nine,” I answered with a smile. “I’ll look for you next week.”

Mémé, irritated that she wasn’t having better luck making Edith feel inferior, began her hacking cough-ondemand to get the attention back to herself.

“So nice to meet you,” I said to Edith, taking my cue to continue pushing the wheelchair. We continued through the foyer.

“Stop,” Mémé commanded. I obeyed. “You there! What do you want?”

A man was coming down one of the hallways that led off the main foyer. It was Callahan O’ Shea.

“If you’re thinking this would be a good place to rob, let me set you straight, young man. We have security cameras, you know! Alarms! The police will be here in seconds.”

“You two must be related,” Callahan said drily.

I smiled. “My grandmother. Eleanor Winfield, meet my neighbor Callahan O’ Shea.”

“Oh, the Irish.” She sneered. “Don’t loan him any money, Grace. He’ll drink it away. And for God’s sake, don’t let him in your house. They steal.”

“I’ve heard that,” I answered, grinning. Cal smiled back and there it was, that soft, hot feeling in my stomach.

“We had an Irish maid when I was a child,” Mémé continued, looking sourly at Callahan. “Eileen, her name was.

Or Irene. Possibly Colleen. Do you know her?”

“My mother,” he said instantly. I choked on a laugh.

“She stole seven spoons from us before my father caught on. Seven.”

“We loved those spoons,” he said. “God, the fun we had with your spoons. Eating, hitting each other on the head, throwing them at the pigs in the kitchen. Happy times.”

“It’s not funny, young man,” Mémé sniffed.

I thought it was funny. In fact, I was wiping my eyes, I was laughing so hard. “Visiting your grandfather, Callahan?”

I managed to ask.

“That’s right,” he answered.

“How’s he doing? Think he wants me to come back and finish with the duke and Clarissia?”

Cal grinned. “I’m sure he does.”

I smiled back. “For a second, I thought you were here about your truck.”

His smile dropped. “What about my truck?”

I felt my face warming. “It’s hardly noticeable.”

“What, Grace?” His voice was hard.

“Just a little dent,” I answered, cringing a little. “Maybe a broken taillight.” He scowled. “Actually, it’s definitely …hey. I have insurance.”

“You need insurance,” he muttered.

“Grace! Take me back to my apartment,” Mémé ordered.

“Easy, Pharaoh,” I said. “I’m talking to my neighbor.”

“So talk to him in the morning.” She glared up at Callahan. He glared back, and I found myself grinning again. I liked a man who wasn’t scared of Mémé, and there weren’t many around.

“How’d you get here, Cal? I’m assuming you didn’t drive.”

“I rode my bike,” he answered.

“Would you like a ride? It’s dark out,” I said.

He looked at me for a second. Then the corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile, and my lady parts buzzed once more. “Sure. Thank you, Grace.”

“You shouldn’t give him a ride, Grace!” Mémé snapped. “He’s likely to strangle you and dump your body in the lake.”

“Is this true?” I asked Callahan.

“I was thinking about it,” he admitted.

“Well. Your guilty secret is out.”

He smiled. “Allow me.” He took the handles of Mémé’s chair and started off. “Which way, ladies?”

“Is that Irishman pushing me?” Mémé demanded, craning her neck around to see.

“Oh, come on now, Mémé,” I said, patting her shoulder. “He’s a big, brawny, good-looking guy. You just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“You sound like a tramp,” she muttered. But she did, bidding us a sharp good-night at her apartment door. She stared pointedly at Callahan until he took the hint and walked a few paces down the hall so as not to see the heaps of gold lying about in her dragon lair and thus be tempted to rob her blind.