A Family Affair

by Shannon VanBergen

  I sent a quick text to Joe asking him to pick up a bike on North Elm and return it to the grocery store. I told him I’d explain why later, but he responded with “I already heard” followed by several laughing emojis.

  I climbed into bed, completely exhausted. I just wanted to sleep for days. Who knew raising grannies would be so hard.

  10

  The next morning, I was thankful it was Sunday. I wouldn’t have to worry about getting up early and opening the store. Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep past 8:00 am; there was just too much on my mind. I got up and made my way to the kitchen and threw some bread in the toaster. While I stood there waiting for it to pop up, I noticed Grandma’s keys hanging on the hook by the door. That was unusual. She always went to the early church service. I went to her room and cracked open the door. Sure enough, she was still in bed, her white hair barely peeking out under the top of her comforter. Was she sick? She was always an early riser—out the door by 7:00 every morning to ride with her cycling group or to speed-walk with a few others from the retirement community.

  I quietly closed her door and stood there for a minute. A fear started to rise through my body. This wasn’t like her, to be sick or to sleep in. After a full minute of “worst-case scenario” thoughts, I finally came to my senses. People get tired. People get sick. She obviously needed the rest, so I decided to leave her alone. Well, after I checked to make sure she was breathing. I quietly opened the door again and saw the rise and fall of the comforter. That was enough to ease my worries. Now for breakfast.

  The jelly came out of the jar with a plop and as I spread it around, I wondered how I should spend my day. I knew Grandma Dean would want to meet with Hattie and Irene and tell them about the conversation with Rosa and her family the day before. And I was sure Grandma would be interested to hear how Hattie and Irene had spent their day. No doubt the whole town would be talking about it. But all of that would probably take place in the afternoon—giving Grandma a chance to rest and the bike boozers time to sleep off the alcohol.

  I decided to take donuts to Joe. I hadn’t seen him in a few days, and I knew he would be at the fire station. I grabbed the keys and made a quick trip to the donut shop to pick up two dozen donuts, then I headed his way.

  When I got there, I parked and could immediately hear the guys talking. They were around the back sitting at a picnic table drinking their coffee. I could hear their laughter and for a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy. Yes, they were co-workers, but they were also friends. I wanted that—to hang out with friends my age and not have a care in the world for a while.

  What did guys talk about when women weren’t around? I was suddenly very curious. Instead of going right up to them, I hung back, around the corner of the station. I decided to eavesdrop for just a minute before I came out of my hiding place with the donuts.

  “That’s so gross,” I could hear Joe say with a laugh.

  “What’s gross about it?” I knew a few guys at the station, but that voice didn’t ring a bell.

  Joe’s friend, Avery, answered him. “You can’t use the same towel you dry your butt with to dry your hair!”

  “So you guys use two towels every time you shower?” the unfamiliar voice asked. “That’s terrible for the environment! And if you washed yourself properly, your butt wouldn’t be dirty!”

  “What about when you dry your face?” Joe asked. “How do you do that with just the one towel?”

  “Just start at the top and dry as you go down!” the voice said. “It’s really not that complicated! Start with your hair and end with your feet!”

  The guys were quiet as they thought this over, and I thought it would be the perfect time to come out of the shadows with breakfast. As I walked over to the table, I felt a little disappointed. I don’t know what I had thought the guys would be talking about—maybe how they were going to save the world or something—but I definitely didn’t expect them to be talking about how to dry themselves off without spreading their butt germs. Guys never really grew up, did they?

  “Nikki!” Joe called out when he saw me. He stood and gave me a quick kiss when I got to the table.

  “Are these for all of us or just Joe?” Avery asked.

  “The donuts are for all of you,” I said with a smile. Avery was another hot fireman. Was that some sort of prerequisite for being a fireman?

  “You got my favorite kind!” I looked over at the unfamiliar voice to see an unfamiliar face.

  “This is Craig,” Joe said, pointing across the table. “He’s new here.”

  I shook his hand and welcomed him. “Where are you from?” I asked Craig.

  He took a powdered, jelly-filled donut from the box. “Miami,” he answered before stuffing half the donut in his mouth.

  I should’ve figured. It seemed everyone was from Miami. They moved here because it wasn’t that far away and they could still do all the fun things Miami had to offer, but then they could return home to their quiet little house on their quiet little street.

  “Come on, Craig,” Avery said, reaching in and grabbing two more donuts. “Let’s give these two lovebirds some space.”

  Craig reached over to take another donut, and Joe told him to take the whole box up to the others. The two guys grabbed the box and headed to the station.

  Joe smiled his million-dollar smile, and my heart melted. He looked into my eyes. “I missed you.”

  I smiled back at him and moved his dark hair out of his face. I was worried things were moving a little too fast. I knew he was ready to settle down…and I was on the opposite spectrum. “I miss you too,” I said honestly. I wanted to change the subject. “Did you take care of the bike for me last night?”

  Joe laughed. “Oh yes. Before you called, I heard that a bike had been stolen from the grocery store on Vance Street. I had a feeling it was the same bike so I asked a buddy at the police station if he could find out who called it in, and he gave me the guy’s information. I picked up the bike and took it to him.”

  “Was he mad?”

  “Ha! No, he was a real stoner. When I told him what the Grannies did with it, he was proud that his bike had been on such an adventure. Of course, the half bottle of rum in the basket was just icing on the cake.”

  I was thankful it was all smoothed over. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them. And you should see my grandma. She was still in bed this morning, and that’s not like her either. I can’t even imagine what Greta and Virginia are up to—probably robbing banks as we speak. It’s like they’re all falling apart.”

  Joe shrugged. “Well, I guess it makes sense. It’s a very personal case for them. They’re good friends with Rosa. And this whole town has practically watched her kids grow up. I’m sure they took it personally when the middle son died. What was his name?”

  “Ricky,” I answered.

  “Oh yeah, Ricky. And now they’re practically reliving it. And you know how old people are,” Joe continued. “They don’t handle things as well as they did when they were younger.”

  If that was the case, I was really in trouble.

  “You lived here when all this happened. Do you remember anything weird about the first murder?” I asked him. “Anything that stood out?”

  Joe thought for a minute. “The weirdest thing to me was the gang activity afterward. Don’t get me wrong, you’d see a gang member here and there, but when Ricky died, a bunch of them showed up the next day. It was just weird to me that there were so many.”

  I remembered Grandma Dean saying something about that too. “What were they doing here? Did anyone know?”

  Joe shook his head. “Not that I know of. They were here a day or two and then left. And it’s gone back to normal since then. I wonder if they’ll show up again after this murder.”

  A shiver of fear ran up my spine. I hoped not. I had another question, but I was afraid it sounded naïve and stupid. I asked it anyway. “So, how did you know they were gang members? Do they look like they’re in a gang?”

/>   Joe laughed. “Don’t have many gangs in rural Illinois, huh?” No. We didn’t, thankfully. “You just know,” he said. “If they come back, you’ll know it’s them.”

  Another shiver ran up my spine.

  “Are you cold?” Joe asked as he put his arm around me.

  “I think I’m just tired,” I answered. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” I wondered if I should tell him about my coffee date with Owen. The way word traveled in this town, I figured I’d better. “So, just so you know I had a completely innocent coffee date with Owen last night.”

  “I know,” Joe shrugged.

  “You know? How do you know?”

  He smiled. “It’s a small town.”

  “And you’re okay with me having coffee with him?”

  He looked into my eyes and this time, he was the one who moved hair out of my face. “I assumed you had been sent by Geraldine to grill him about the case.”

  Well, that was mostly true. Or rather it was true that’s how it started out, but then it ended up with me crushing on him while I listened to his problems. That part I’d keep to myself.

  Before I could say anything else, Joe changed the subject. “So,” he said, “I’m thinking of selling my house and buying something on the other side of town.”

  Joe lived in his current house with his brother Alex and their two dogs. He loved that house, and I was surprised to hear this sudden news. “Why would you do that?” I asked.

  “Well, Alex shacked up with the neighbor girl and I’m there by myself now. I got to thinking the other day that it really isn’t the kind of house I want to start a family in. It’s old and has that dangerous staircase. Plus, there’s not a big yard to put in a swing set and a deck and other things I’d eventually like to add.”

  “You want a swing set, huh? Aren’t you a little too old for that?”

  Joe nudged me with his arm. “You know what I mean, for the kids.”

  My blood ran cold for a minute. “The kids? Who’s kids?”

  Joe looked surprised at my question. “You don’t want kids?”

  Oh my, this was moving even faster than I thought. I couldn’t be picking out houses and swing sets when I still had a fiancé in Illinois I hadn’t told him about. I was supposed to come to Florida to get my mind straight, not add to my list of future husbands.

  I laughed nervously. “I think we should save this conversation for later, you know, like after I’m not so stressed out about the case and the Grannies.”

  He looked hurt. “Okay…but I’m still going to look at a house this afternoon. Do you want to come along?”

  “You go,” I said, “and send me pictures.”

  This seemed to be okay with him, but it still looked like I had burst his bubble.

  We said an awkward good-bye, and I headed back to the car. I was wracked with guilt. I couldn’t keep going like this. I had to sit down and make a decision, actually think for myself about what I wanted. But how was I going to go about this? Then an idea came to mind. I’d ask Grandma Dean. She always knew what I wanted to do…even before I knew I wanted to do it.

  11

  Grandma Dean looked a little disheveled when I walked in after my visit with Joe. She was drinking her coffee and reading the news on her phone.

  She looked at me over her coffee cup. “Where did you run off to?”

  I hung the keys back on the hook. “I took some donuts to Joe at the station. And I met a new fireman, I think his name was Craig.”

  “Did you bring one back for me?”

  “A donut or a fireman?” I asked with a wink.

  Grandma laughed, and I sat across from her at the table. Suddenly, Grandma’s question sunk in. Was she asking for a donut? The woman who thought eating sugar was just as bad as not wearing the proper moisturizer? She actually wanted a sugary, carb-filled, frosting-covered, delicious… Wait, where was I going with this, and why didn’t I bring home any donuts?!

  Grandma sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “You feeling okay?” I asked.

  “I’m fine,” she answered. “I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

  If anything could cheer her up in that moment, it would be giving her the chance to lecture me on my life. Plus, I needed it. “Grandma…” I started to say.

  She cut me off. “Why can’t you call me Coco or Lola or some other name instead of grandma? It makes me sound so old.”

  Ugh, not this conversation again.

  “Or Gigi!” she continued. “I just love that. I don’t know why you and your sister wouldn’t ever call me that.”

  “Okay, Gigi,” I said sarcastically. “I need your advice.”

  Grandma sat up straight in her chair, all her energy suddenly returning, and a sparkle lit up her eyes.

  “It’s about Joe…and Bo.”

  Grandma shook her head. “Honey, I can’t help you with that. You know what’s right and what’s wrong with this situation.”

  “But I don’t…not really.”

  Grandma just sighed. “Nikki, your parents raised you better than that. You know right from wrong.”

  “So, what’s wrong then?” I practically shouted, tears forming in my eyes. “Or what’s right? Marrying Bo when I don’t know if I’m ready for all the things he wants? Or losing Joe because I don’t know if I’m ready for all the things he wants?”

  Grandma reached over and took my hand. She spoke softly. “What do you want?”

  I wiped a tear that slid down my cheek. “I just want to stop making mistakes.”

  “Nikki, a repeated mistake is a decision. You need to figure out why you keep deciding to do this. And then you need to decide to do something different.”

  This was it. I was going to tell her why I kept making the same decisions, or at least why I thought I was making them. I needed to get it all out, to come clean and finally move forward.

  “Grandma, there’s a secret I’ve been keeping for years…”

  Before I could finish my sentence, the front door swung open and Virginia and Greta ran in, practically out of breath. “They’re back!” Virginia said, bending over to get her breath.

  “Who’s back?” Grandma and I asked at the same time.

  “The gang. They’re everywhere! It’s just like last time!”

  There was a flurry of excitement and questions, and I was sent out to get Irene and Hattie. I wondered what kind of state they’d be in after the night they’d had. I knocked on Irene’s door first, making sure to pound extra hard in case she was still sleeping off her hangover. To my surprise, she opened the door immediately.

  “Good grief! Are you trying to wake the dead?”

  She was already dressed and making breakfast. The smell of bacon filled the air, reminding me just how much I loved that stuff.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked as she cracked an egg into a skillet. “And for goodness sakes! Close the door! Were you born in a barn?”

  This wasn’t the appropriate time to tell her that yes, I actually was born in a barn. My mother had gone into labor while feeding the horses one morning. Since I was her first child, she had mistaken actual labor pains for Braxton Hicks and by the time she realized her mistake, I was already on my way into the world. I have loved horses my entire life, and my parents always teased me that it was because I born in a barn.

  I walked into the kitchen and closed the door. Irene slid a paper plate with bacon on it across the counter. I picked up a slice. It was perfect. Not too crispy, not to floppy. “We need to get out of here as soon as you’re finished cooking your eggs,” I said, taking a bite of the bacon. “You’ll have to eat it on the run.”

  She scrambled the eggs and added pepper. “Why’s that?”

  “Apparently, the gang is back. I guess we’re going to go check it out.”

  Irene stopped what she was doing. “They’re back in town?” she asked cautiously.

  I nodded and grabbed another slice of bacon. “Greta and Virginia just told us.”

/>   Irene was suddenly flying around the kitchen. She slid the bacon into a sandwich bag then grabbed another bag and scooped in her scrambled eggs. “Let’s go!” she said, throwing the bags in her purse.

  She flew out the door, and I could barely keep up with her. We were heading toward Hattie’s apartment.

  “Why are you not hungover?” I asked.

  Irene laughed. “The symptoms of a hangover are what—tired, cranky, headache? That’s my every day. I am worried about Hattie, though. She doesn’t always fair too well after a night on the town.”

  When we got to Hattie’s door, Irene pulled out a key. “We’ll just let ourselves in in case she’s sleeping.”

  Irene slowly opened the door. “Hattie,” she called out. “How you feelin’ girl?”

  The blinds were closed and the lights were off. When Irene flipped the light switch, we both got a shock. Hattie was at the table with her face in a giant bowl of water. Irene screamed and we both ran over. Irene grabbed Hattie by the hair and pulled her head out of the water as Hattie started to gasp for air.

  “What are you doing?” Irene screamed. “Is life so bad you have to drown yourself in a bowl of water?”

  Water dripped from Hattie’s face and her lips were a very unnatural shade of blue. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!” she yelled back, grabbing a towel that was sitting on her lap. “I saw this on the YouTube. You’re supposed to put your face in a bowl of ice water and it reduces your wrinkles! Here, look!” Hattie handed her phone to Irene and Irene scanned it for a minute.

  Irene rolled her eyes. “It says right here you dunk your face for fifteen seconds. Judging by your blue lips, I’d say you had your head in there a lot longer.”

  “Well,” Hattie said, patting her face dry. “I have a lot more wrinkles. I felt like I needed more time. How do I look?”

  Her hair was matted to her face. Her lips looked thin and now that some color was starting to come back, they were starting to look purple. She shivered.