by Mara Wells
He didn’t mind that part really. There was something comforting about all the food in a store, the ritual of winding up and down the aisles, choosing meals for a week, deciding which indulgences were in the budget. Learning, thanks to a wine-tasting set up at the end of an aisle one Saturday, that he could in fact tolerate wines that cost less than forty dollars. That he maybe even preferred an Australian Shiraz to the merlot he’d kept stocked in his undercounter wine fridge.
Caleb lifted the Scotch to his lips and inhaled deeply. Nothing like a good whiff of Scotch to clear the sinuses.
“To what to do I owe the great honor of your presence?” Grandpa William sipped his Scotch slowly, reverently.
Caleb took a small sip and held it on his tongue for a few seconds before answering. “You didn’t tell me your ex-wife lived in the building.”
“Met Gloria, have you? She’s a fine woman, isn’t she? A fine woman indeed.” Grandpa William closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them to stare down at Caleb. “How was she? In good health?”
“In fighting spirits. She’s none too happy about our plan for the building.”
“No, Gloria’s not one for change. She doesn’t let things roll off her back.” Grandpa William’s unfocused gaze wandered the room. “She doesn’t forgive, and she doesn’t forget.”
“She called me a skirt chaser. Or rather, she called all the Donovans skirt chasers. What happened between you two?”
Grandpa William tilted his head back and stared at the stars overhead. “You have to understand, it’s how things were back then. Everyone I did business with had a woman on the side. There were nights we went out together, to the Fontainebleau to see Roberto Durán box or down near the Omni for the showgirls at Les Violins.
“I couldn’t take Gloria to those. She’d tell the other wives. Then who would I do business with? And I couldn’t go alone. What would the other guys think, that I couldn’t get some? That I was in love with my wife?” Grandpa William shook his head. “The other wives turned a blind eye, but not Gloria. She was up in my business, always asking questions. And when she found out for sure there was another woman? Faster than you can say ‘alimony,’ she sued my ass for divorce.”
“Were you really that surprised?” Caleb knocked back more Scotch. It was bad enough that his dad was a felon; now he had to find out that his grandpa, the man he’d always looked up to for his business savvy, was a cheater? That he’d cheated on Riley’s grandma?
“I knew she wouldn’t like it.” Grandpa William’s fingers tapped against the side of his glass. “Didn’t think she’d leave me over it. She had nothing when I met her, you know? I thought she’d forgive me, if for no other reason than to keep her fingers in the bank account. But she left me, like that.” He snapped his fingers, then plucked a peanut out of the trail mix on the reclaimed-oak coffee table.
“Sounds like you didn’t give her much choice.” Caleb poured another finger of Scotch while he tried to imagine a younger Grandpa William being so callous about his wife’s feelings. If he pictured him in a skinny blue suit with a fedora, it made the story more believable. Still, it was hard to believe. “That was pretty sloppy justification. What did you tell her about the other woman? That it was only business?”
“Something like that.” Grandpa William downed the rest of his Scotch in one gulp. “She kept pushing me. What was the real reason? Why did I really do it? Honestly, hell if I knew back then. It was a mixed blessing when Rosie got pregnant. Easy to explain that I gotta take care of my kid, you know? Give him a family.”
“Grandma Rosie was the other woman?” Caleb leaned back and shook his head. Grandma Rosie of the powder-soft hands and hair so white it was nearly translucent as the side piece? He couldn’t imagine it, but there it was. He felt a tiny stab of betrayal. Not the paralyzing kind like when he’d realized the prosecutor was telling the truth about his father, but a gentler squeeze of the heart. He’d thought at least Grandpa William was who he said he was, that there were no ugly secrets waiting to escape. Sure, this was different. Personal. Not business. But it did make him look at his grandfather differently. How can you know someone your entire life but not really know who they are?
His thoughts must’ve shown on his face because a flush of color rose up his grandfather’s neck. Embarrassment. After so many years? Very interesting. “And now? Would you give Gloria the same answer?”
Grandpa William rubbed at his flushed neck. “I don’t know what I’d say if she ever gave me a chance to explain, but I figured it out after Rosie left me. Gloria, she’s a big personality. Wherever we went, people flocked to her. Women and men, they all wanted to be in her circle, hear her stories, be her friend. I disappeared beside her. And I’m ashamed to say, I didn’t like it. I should’ve been proud of her, proud to be with her. Instead, I broke her heart.”
A long moment stretched between them, only the tick-tock of the mantel clock filling the space. Grandpa William looked lost in memories, his eyes half-closed, his shoulders drooping.
“She really is something.” Caleb described how he met Gloria, his Scotch sloshing dangerously in the glass when he used his hands to gesture. He ended with Gloria’s grand exit, not mentioning the phone call with Lance. He didn’t want to get his grandfather’s hopes up.
Grandpa William chuckled, and his color returned to normal. “That sounds like her alright. Always thinks she knows what’s best.” He wolfed down a handful of trail mix from the bowl. “Good to know she’s still in fighting shape.”
“Her granddaughter seems like a fighter, too.” Caleb filled him in on Riley’s role at the Dorothy, and it finally came out, the whole debacle of the commissioner meeting.
Grandpa William snorted so hard, he had to grab a cocktail napkin to cover his nose. “Wish I’d been there! Sounds like a hoot.”
Caleb’s nail dug into the arm of his chair. “It was a real setback.”
“Are you kidding me? All that talk about community input isn’t going anywhere. Stick to the plan, Caleb. Things never go smoothly at city hall. You should know that.”
It was true. In all the projects he’d been involved in over the years, there had been many government obstacles. Permits, inspections, vendors. He knew to factor in time for the unforeseeable but unavoidable stalls and delays along the way. Why had he thought his work on the Dorothy would be any different?
“You’re right, as always, Grandpa.” Caleb helped himself to some of that trail mix. He hadn’t eaten dinner, and the Scotch needed something to slosh around in his belly with. “I’ll stay the course, but it would help if I knew more about the history of the building.”
“Should’ve filled you in from the beginning. Guess I was hoping we’d get through this without having to dredge up the worst part of my past.” Grandpa William settled back and crossed his arms over the small bulge of his belly. “What do you want to know?”
“Why would Gloria tell her granddaughter she owns the building?”
Grandpa William chuckled. “Because she does.”
Caleb blinked. Blinked again. “I saw the paperwork.”
Grandpa William waved his hand. “Sorry, I should’ve said she did. Gave it to her in the divorce.”
“But now you own it.”
“That’s right.” Grandpa William nodded, seemingly pleased that Caleb was following along, but Caleb felt more confused than before.
“How did that happen?”
“What?” Grandpa William snapped a tiny pretzel in half with his teeth. A few crumbs feel onto his chest, and he wiped them away.
“Grandpa!” Caleb pushed the trail mix out of his grandfather’s reach. “If you gave her the building, why is it in your name?”
“Nosy, aren’t you?” Grandpa William eyed the trail-mix bowl but let it go with a sigh. “I let her have the Dorothy in the divorce settlement, so she’d always have a place to live and a steady
income. But after me, she took up with some real characters. Her second husband was no better than me, always out with a new girl on his arm. And that third husband of hers lost the Dorothy in a poker game. Can you imagine?”
Caleb couldn’t. “How do you lose an entire building in one game?”
“Not just any game, Texas Hold’em.” Grandpa William rubbed his hands together, clearly delighted to be prompted into retelling the tale. “Some of the regular guys got together. I wasn’t going until a buddy called me. He heard her husband talking about throwing deeds in the pot.”
“Why? Isn’t losing thousands of dollars at a time enough?” Caleb shook his head and watched a yacht power by, leaving long wakes in its path. The water churned then stilled.
“For some, they can’t stop. It’s in the blood, all that adrenaline.” Grandpa William made a fist and raised it in the air. “Boy, was it pumping that night.”
“What happened?” Now Caleb was even more curious. He’d always thought of his grandfather as a businessman, not this guy who cheated on his wife and gambled with fortunes.
“My buddies held him off until I got there, and then we started a new game. I was talking trash, like I always did, about the others not having enough money to go up against me. Hinted that I’d take other kinds of bets. Had that guy hook, line, and sinker.” Grandpa William demonstrated by crooking his finger and hooking his lip like a fish.
Caleb smiled. “How’d you know you’d win?”
“I didn’t.” Grandpa William winked. “But I knew he was a gambler, couldn’t help himself. So when I got pocket queens and a nine-nine-queen comes out on the flop, well, I figured that was my shot. I mean, there’s still a queen out there; it’s not a done deal, but my odds are good. Gloria’s husband puts up a decent bet, so I call. Seven on the board, doesn’t impact me. Him either, judging by his face. So I bet nothing. Lulling him into a false sense of security, right?”
Caleb nodded, following the story. He could almost see it. The dark room, the cigar smoke, the bell bottoms. Or maybe there weren’t bell bottoms. He didn’t want to interrupt Grandpa William’s story to ask the year, so he added a few years in his mind, picturing them with side burns and bell bottoms, and let his grandfather go on.
“That loser ups the bet even more; I call again. Four on the river. Doesn’t change a thing. Just to stir the pot a bit, I say, ‘All in.’ You should’ve seen the guy’s face. So sure of himself. So eager to take my money.” Grandpa William laughed and sipped his Scotch. “I do more of my trash talk. Too bad he can’t raise. Too bad he doesn’t have the cash. He thinks I’m bluffing. Throws the key to the building right in the pot.”
Caleb waited for the end of the story, but Grandpa William merely smiled at him.
“You can’t stop there. What happened?”
“You know what happened. I called. I won. The Dorothy was mine again, and when Gloria found out he’d bet her building? Oh, he was in big trouble. I heard he had to sleep on the couch for six months.” Grandpa William looked delighted at the memory, smiling wide enough to show off his bridge and two crowns.
“Does Gloria know it was you?”
“God no. She never would’ve stayed in the building if she’d known. Woman’s got her pride. And then some. You don’t want to upset her.” Grandpa William knocked back more Scotch. “She wasn’t too upset at the meeting, was she?”
Caleb sloshed his own Scotch down on the coffee table in front of him. “Of course she’s upset. She knows condo conversion means everyone’s out. The building can’t survive on what it’s bringing in now, and from what I can tell, the current residents can’t cough up any more cash. The place is teetering on the edge of bankruptcy as it is.”
“You can’t kick out Gloria. I promised her the Dorothy would always be her home.”
“It’s a little late to tell me that now, Grandpa. I already filed the paperwork with the city. Not five minutes ago, you told me to stay the course.”
“And you should. Be charming. Be persuasive. Get the community on your side. Have you never had to get something through a city commission before? It’s easy to flip them if you’ve got some voters on your side.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. “Dad always handled that.”
Grandpa William snorted. “Of course he did. Can’t recommend following in his footsteps.”
Both men took cautious sips of their Scotch. Grandpa William eyed Caleb over the rim of his tumbler, eyes still sharp enough he didn’t need glasses except to drive at night.
“There’s nothing for it then. I’ll have to go to this next meeting. Show you how it’s done.”
Caleb thought about protesting, but truth was, things could hardly go worse than they had yesterday. Besides, he didn’t think the heightened color in Grandpa William’s cheeks was from the alcohol. No, Gloria was still on his mind. Caleb could tell by the way Grandpa William rubbed his empty ring finger and stared out over the intracoastal waters. He wasn’t going to the meeting to push through the condo conversion. He was going to see Gloria, and Caleb couldn’t help but think it would be even more disastrous than the first meeting.
* * *
Caleb knew he should stay away from the Dorothy until after his plans were approved. No good could come of engaging with Riley or her grandmother or any of the other residents, but he couldn’t help it. He felt pulled. Besides, Riley’d still been limping on her bruised foot. What if she needed help? Okay, so that was really reaching. But there it was. Maybe it was the whirlwind of commotion he’d stirred up, or that devastating glimpse of betrayal he’d seen in her big, brown eyes. But bottom line: he wanted to see her.
It was a beautiful day, at least for late August. Slightly less muggy than usual, and this late in the day, the afternoon storm had already passed. More cars than usual lined the street, and Caleb had trouble finding a spot to park his Porsche. He finally found curb parking about a block away and, after arming the alarm, started his hike back to the building. If there was this little parking in the off-season, the Dorothy really did need its own parking structure. High-end residents wouldn’t park their precious cars this far from sight.
His long legs ate up the distance quickly. Up ahead, a couple of women holding hands walked with a pug between them toward the empty lot. No doubt going to the so-called dog park. A twentysomething young woman in a sundress let herself be pulled along by two oversize mutts in polka-dot harnesses toward the lot. More dogs and owners slipped through the gaps in the fence. Some carried beach chairs, others coolers. All of them were greeted by Riley, who directed them toward where two folding tables were set up.
The lot was filled with more dogs than Caleb imagined could possibly live in the neighborhood. One table was set up with plates of snacks—cookies, a veggie platter, a few homemade-looking pies—and bottles of soda. The other table was covered in paperwork, and a lovely woman roughly Riley’s age sat behind it, urging people to sign with one of the many pens strewn across the table.
A gaggle of midsize dogs ran circles in the lot, banging into some of the people’s legs and barking up a storm. Other dogs hung out closer to their owners, keeping a careful watch over everything. Riley stood off to the side, plastic glass of soda in one hand, smiling and laughing with Eliza while Lady leaned against her leg.
A family of three, parents in their midthirties with a kindergarten-aged daughter and a chocolate Lab, ducked into the lot. Riley greeted them warmly, gesturing toward the tables where people were now standing in line to sign the brunette’s papers. Riley talked to the couple intently, gesturing toward the Dorothy. The mother tugged her husband toward the paper-signing line.
Caleb got a feeling in his gut. A bad feeling. A very bad feeling.
Chapter 11
The impromptu Dog Days of Summer dog park block party was going better than Riley could’ve imagined. Of course, now that people were gathered, she wished she’d arranged som
e sort of sound system and that the refreshments were a bit higher class. The manager in her couldn’t help it; she loved a good event, loved making them happen, loved making sure people enjoyed them.
It would’ve been nice to have a face-painting station for the children and maybe set up some games with prizes. She could see it all in her head, how the lot would look decked out for a small street fair. Maybe local vendors and restaurants would want tables. It could be an annual event, a place where neighbors could bring their families and pets to enjoy the last days of summer before school started.
“What is this?” Caleb took her by surprise, striding up on his long legs, polo shirt neatly tucked into his jeans. Tucked. Into jeans. Who tucked anything into jeans? She needed to stop looking at his pants. He’d get the wrong idea.
Riley forced her gaze to his. “A little neighborhood get-together.”
“On my property.”
“I did a title search. It’s not that hard, you know. I believe the property belongs to your grandfather?” Her lips twitched. She could tell by the flare in his eyes it was a sore spot.
“Grandpa William asked me to take care of things for him here.”
“That’s nice. Want a cookie?” She waved at the table. “They’re going fast.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I do.”
Caleb stuffed a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth and was about to take the last one when the kindergarten girl walked up to the table.
“Cookie?” Her hazel eyes widened with hope.
He handed the last one over to her. She chomped into it, half going into her mouth and half falling to the ground. Her Lab scarfed up the rest before she’d even realized it was missing.