by Kim Law
Nick leaned in and the scent of soap and man hit her in overload. She fought the urge to shove her nose against his neck and breathe him in.
His finger flipped up the small lock. “I can cut just the lock. It won’t damage the box.”
She pulled the box away from him and scowled. “You aren’t cutting anything.” You didn’t just rip into things without trying to find the key first. Maybe she’d come across it somewhere else in the house. “I’ll just take it home.”
And if she didn’t find a key before the day came that GiGi passed away, she’d cut it open then. She shook her head at Nick and tucked the box into the larger cardboard one at her feet. In it she’d added several things she’d found as she’d searched for the key.
Nick followed her movements with his gaze. “Are you taking all that stuff home?”
“Yes.”
He grabbed the stack of old TV Guides she’d uncovered in the back of a kitchen drawer. “You have some need for these?”
“Did you see the celebrities on the front of them? There are some big stars there. GiGi was keeping them for a reason. They’re collector’s items.”
“And the old Coca-Cola cans?”
His tone irritated her. “Collector’s items,” she muttered. “They’re over twenty years old.”
Nick stood straight and she watched him scan the two connecting rooms, his eyes taking in the many boxes and stacks of papers that GiGi had accumulated over the years. They were shoved into corners and up against the walls. Then he landed on the three empty boxes she’d left on the kitchen floor—still waiting for her to get to work cleaning out the cabinets. Finally he returned to the box at her feet.
“You claim your grandmother is the one who’s a hoarder?”
Joanie bristled. “I never said hoarder.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “Are you implying I am?”
He shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“Nick Dalton,” she took on a tone of outrage, and stood, feeling inferior sitting there with him towering over her. “You just don’t understand that some things need to be kept.”
He lifted a brow. “And some things need to be tossed.”
She breathed slowly through her nose, knowing he was right, but as she’d started uncovering the items, she’d kept remembering how much they’d meant to either GiGi or Pepaw. She and her grandmother may have grown distant over the years, but Joanie wasn’t simply able to toss everything out so callously.
Nick went to the kitchen when she didn’t immediately reply and pulled open the ancient oven door. The smell of gooey cheese and spicy meat wafted into the room.
“They’ll probably hit the trash eventually anyway,” she grumbled, following him into the kitchen. “I just hated to get rid of them without making sure they didn’t have some value.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry I teased you. It isn’t easy going through your family’s things.”
His serious tone hinted that he did understand, and then she remembered that he’d recently gone through his mother’s things himself. She’d passed away right before he’d come to find Cody.
So he did get it.
He just probably wouldn’t choose to keep TV Guides and old Coke cans. Or small, secretive boxes.
“I’m sorry you lost your mother recently,” she said softly.
Nick put the pizza on the countertop and scrounged around in a couple drawers until he found an old pizza cutter. He glanced at Joanie. “Thank you, sweetness. But it wasn’t a big loss.”
His words broke her heart. He was such a caring guy—anyone who met him could tell that. She couldn’t imagine him losing his mother and it not meaning much.
“I’ll get us plates,” she said.
They each got pizza, Nick grabbed more lemonade from the fridge, and Joanie found the two of them sharing stories over the next thirty minutes. Nothing huge, just talking and laughing together. It was enjoyable.
When she got up to pour herself more lemonade, Nick scooted his chair back and rose to follow her.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
“What’s that?” she buried her face in her glass when he stepped beside her at the sink to rinse off his plate. She’d enjoyed sharing the meal with him, more than she would have thought, but hoped he didn’t ruin the moment by saying something lame like, “I want to kiss you with the passion of a hundred men.”
She snorted at the thought, sending lemonade burning up her nose.
Her sudden coughing fit made Nick look at her curiously, and she ended up with his strong hand patting her on the back.
“You okay?” he asked as she finally calmed down. “What happened?”
She shook her head. “Just had a funny thought as I was drinking.”
He studied her under hooded lids as if trying to decide if the funny thought involved him, then shook his head as if the answer didn’t matter.
“What were you going to say before?” She found she really wanted to know. Even if he was harboring the passion of a hundred men. She grinned again, this time pulling his narrowed gaze to her mouth.
She dropped the smile.
“That I think we could be more than temporary business partners,” he said.
Oh, crap.
“I think we could also be friends,” he finished.
Joanie looked up into his strong, competent face. Shocked. She gave a little smile and a smaller nod. Yes, she thought. Maybe they could be friends. “You’re a good guy, Nick.”
“So I’ve been told.” He didn’t sound as if he appreciated the compliment, but held out a hand to shake. “Friends?”
She found she very much wanted to be his friend. She nodded and clasped his hand. “Friends.”
And now she wouldn’t even feel bad about letting him help her empty out the kitchen cabinets. She hated doing stuff like that.
The cloying smell of old people assaulted Joanie the instant she entered Elm Hill. Then came the misery lurking from the eyes of every inhabitant she passed in the common room.
GiGi would look the same, misery and defeat written across every feature, but chances were good she wasn’t even out of her room. The last couple of weeks when Joanie had called to check on her, she’d been informed that GiGi hadn’t left her room voluntarily in days. She was wheeled out for meals, parked in the sunshine by a window for an hour a day, and the rest of the time, she sat in her room alone.
It hadn’t been much better when the woman had lived at home. She hadn’t stayed in her bedroom then, but she’d rarely ventured from her house in years. Of course, she also had a bad heart and was likely heading toward crazy. She’d had to depend on Joanie to take her wherever she needed to go. Joanie had offered regularly, but she also had never begged when the woman said no.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Bigbee,” the receptionist said. “Your grandmother hasn’t had the best day today. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Joanie glanced at the woman’s name tag. Helen. Helen didn’t have a clue of which she spoke. “I’m sure she will, Helen.” Joanie forced a polite smile. “Thank you.”
Three minutes later, Joanie stood before her grandmother’s private room, but stopped to take a fortifying breath before entering. Then she took another.
She made monthly visits, just as she’d promised when she’d signed the nursing home papers, but wondered every time who she thought she was fooling. Her grandmother didn’t want her there any more than she wanted to be there. She made that clear every time Joanie came in. Rarely did they do anything but argue or get on each other’s nerves. Exactly as it had been for years.
Too bad. It was her duty as the only remaining family member to visit, and that’s what she was going to do. Whether either of them liked it or not.
She’d drive the forty-five minutes into Knoxville—there was a closer home she could have put GiGi in, but they didn’t have as good a reputation—spend a good hour chatting the old woman up, pay the charge each month as best she could, then do it again
on the same Tuesday of the next month.
And if she didn’t get Nick to get the house fixed up and get it sold… soon!… the place would kick GiGi out and Joanie would have to figure out how to take care of both of them under the same roof, plus the cupcake store, all without going completely insane.
The thought of Nick made her think of the last couple of days. With the store closed yesterday, she’d ended up at the house again, going through years of Bigbee history from the kitchen and living room. Though he’d been working hard himself, he kept taking breaks and coming over to help her out.
He’d been more than willing to haul the piles of trash out to the Dumpster he’d rented. His willingness gave her the impression he was trying to make sure she didn’t drag too much of it home with her. Which she appreciated. It was cute, him watching over her like that.
She’d still snuck out a few boxes he hadn’t seen, though.
The thing she’d enjoyed the most about the last two days was that she’d laughed with him. A lot. And he hadn’t tried to kiss her again. At all.
She’d caught him checking her out a couple times. But then, she’d checked him out, too. Other than that, all had remained friendly. Just as she’d asked.
Which wasn’t nearly as fun as she knew something else could be, but it was definitely safer.
She shoved Nick from her mind. She’d gotten the bank loan secured today, and she still needed to tell him it was a go, but other than that, she didn’t need to be thinking about him. What she needed was to go inside GiGi’s room, and pretend she wanted to be there.
She sighed.
The door squeaked with her light push, and she stepped inside the darkened room.
GiGi wasn’t sitting in her chair as Joanie had expected. Instead, she was lying in her bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, and Joanie could hear her struggled breathing from the door.
Oh my goodness. What’s wrong?
Joanie edged across the room in the shadows cast from the corner lamp, trying not to wake her grandmother, but wanting to get a good look. Was she okay? From the breathing, GiGi sounded as if she might be on her deathbed. The sudden thought of losing her grandmother, no matter how little they’d gotten along over the years, settled a pain in her chest she hadn’t been expecting. She hadn’t felt anything more than annoyance toward this woman in so long, it caught her off guard.
“GiGi?” she whispered, panicked when she saw the paper-thin, yellowed skin stretched across her gaunt face. She looked years older than she had only a month ago.
Slits opened in the wrinkled face, and eyes appearing almost black in the shadowed room stared up at her. “Morning, girlie.”
Relief rained over Joanie, traveling down her shoulders. At least GiGi sounded normal. “It’s evening, GiGi. Tuesday night. I’m later than usual.”
When Joanie had had the salon, she’d visited every third Tuesday before she went in to work. It was a schedule that allowed for some exercise with her grandmother once a month. The time walking in the courtyard had used up part of the hour so they didn’t have to sit staring at each other for sixty long minutes as they both tried to figure out what to say.
As GiGi’s eyelids fluttered closed, a thin hand snaked out from under the covers and patted the mattress beside her. “Have a seat. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”
Joanie put the white bakery box she carried on the bedside table, scooting over three small ceramic owls, two of them with chips on their ears, and pulled the single guest chair over to the bed. She lowered herself to the seat. Her face drew tight as she struggled to accept her grandmother in this condition. The thought of sitting on the mattress was actually one she considered, but given the frailness of the woman, she was afraid to jostle the bed.
The realization of someday no longer coming for visits put a cold fear inside Joanie that she hadn’t known she was capable of. Her fingers turned to ice.
She couldn’t get over how bad GiGi looked. Only a month ago, she’d been sitting up when Joanie had visited, complaining that Joanie had fixed her hair in a way that didn’t suit her face, and that her clothes weren’t “proper” for a decent young lady.
Joanie glanced down at the dark-washed jeans tucked into the knee-high lace-up boots and the bright green sweater that fit tighter than GiGi would probably approve of, and hunched her shoulders to take attention away from the tightness across her chest.
“Can I get you something, GiGi?” she asked softly. “Some water maybe? Did you eat dinner?”
Worry filled Joanie. Something she wasn’t used to. She couldn’t help it when the woman lay prone before her looking as she did. She’d have to call the doctor to find out what was wrong with her.
“I don’t need anything, girlie. Just sit down. You apparently haven’t been doing much of that lately.”
Joanie briefly closed her eyes, feeling the normal irritation creeping in. Her grandmother always thought she knew best, and made no bones about letting her opinion be known. “You don’t know what I’ve been doing lately, GiGi. I’m fine.”
Gray eyes that matched her own stared back at her. “You opened a cupcake store.”
Shock kept Joanie quiet for long seconds as she wondered how GiGi knew anything about Cakes. And what she thought about it. Finally she forced herself to relax back into the chair. She pressed her shoulder blades against the vinyl-covered cushion and nodded. “How did you know that?”
“I still keep tabs on you, girlie. I have ever since you put me in here. I know all about the cupcakes and the van. Even about that short skirt you had on last week.” Blue-veined lids once again covered her eyes as if the words had been almost too exhausting to get out. “Wonder you didn’t catch your death of cold out in that skirt,” she continued in a soft grump.
Joanie smoothed her hands down her now-covered legs, reminding herself that the woman was old and didn’t need an argument, even if she was looking for one. “I had on tights, GiGi. And I wasn’t out in the weather for long. Plus, the day wasn’t that cold.”
“It’s February. You should have been in a skirt down to your ankles. Knowing you, you had to show off those legs, no matter the weather.”
And knowing GiGi, she would think her a tramp. “It’s part of the brand. I wear it to go with the name.”
One eye peeked at her. “And you chose ‘Cakes-a-GoGo’ for the name?”
Joanie bristled. Yes she’d chosen the name, and she loved it. “It’s a good name. And I’m doing a good business. It’ll only get better when tourist season starts.”
“You’d think you’d settle down and keep one of these businesses you start. Why do you always have to start all over with something new? Just like your mother, always bouncing around to different jobs.”
“I don’t want to argue with you today, GiGi,” Joanie spoke before her grandmother could say more, her voice slightly elevated. She didn’t need GiGi pointing out her faults, or how much she was like her mother. “I’m here to visit. To see how you’ve been, what you’ve done this last month. Not talk about all the ways I’ve done wrong. Can we please just do that?”
GiGi pressed her lips together and turned her head to look away and Joanie took a quick breath. She hadn’t meant to burst out like that. She hated when she did that. But GiGi had been nagging at her for as long as she could remember about one thing or another.
Either she was going out with the wrong boys, or she was wearing the wrong clothes, had her hair done wrong, or she was just plain unreliable. Just like her mother.
She didn’t want to hear any of it today.
But she also didn’t want to hurt GiGi’s feelings, no matter how annoying the woman could be.
Grasping for topics, Joanie decided to mention the work she was having done on the house. Which made her think of Nick. And the almost kiss. And then the not kissing. She silently moaned. They were just friends. It was a good thing.
“I have to sell your house to pay the bill here,” she blurted out.
That got GiGi’s
attention. She turned back. “Or I could just go home,” she said.
Not this again. “You can’t, GiGi. We’ve talked about this. You can’t handle the stairs, and… well…” She shrugged. “You can’t be left alone in the house either. You caught the kitchen on fire three times the last month you lived there.”
“I didn’t burn nothing down.”
“Yes, I know. But you did start fires.”
“Little ones.” Her grandmother wore a mutinous expression that reminded Joanie of a small kid.
“You just as easily could have killed yourself.”
Dark eyes silently stared back at her and Joanie wondered if her grandmother would voice the thought she knew was running through both their heads. If I died, then you could quit worrying about me. Quit pretending to care.
That’s what it felt like most of the time. Pretending to care. Then a memory from when she was eight rushed through Joanie and she almost gasped. She and GiGi had been standing at the stove. GiGi had been teaching her to make cupcakes from a recipe she’d come up with, and Joanie had spilled a huge glob of batter on the floor. GiGi’s dachshund had quickly run into the mix to lap it up, but hadn’t stopped soon enough and had slipped, sliding across the floor, coming up with pink cake batter smeared all across one side of his head.
She and GiGi had burst out laughing together, and Pepaw had promptly declared the cupcakes would be called Lucky’s Charm, named after the dog and his ever-present “charm.” They had always named the cupcakes GiGi had come up with. She’d forgotten how often they used to bake together. Up until Pepaw left.
Just as she’d mostly forgotten how she and GiGi had once liked each other.
“I hired a guy named Nick for the job. I’ll take pictures as the work progresses and bring them here to show you. He has brilliant ideas, GiGi. It’s going to be incredible when he’s finished.” She needed to get her mind back from the past before she slipped into too many memories from before her grandfather had left. She would have sworn everyone had been happy then. Possibly even her mother. At least a little.