by Judi Fennell
He still wasn’t talking about rib pain.
Though the suckers did hurt. He repositioned himself to take some of the pressure off. “So what brings you here, Grandma?” She was way too obvious. But she would use his fall to get her way, so he and Mac would do better to humor her. What she didn’t know about Mac not staying wouldn’t hurt her.
“Two things. First, I wanted to thank Mary-Alice for doing this for me. She’s such a sweet girl to not charge me. Though I am going to pay her. I don’t take charity.”
“It’s not charity, Grandma. She wants to do it for you.”
“Yes, well that’s all fine and good, but this business is her bread and butter. I can’t in good conscience take from her when she had to get her brothers to help out. How much do you think I should pay her, Jared?”
“She’s not going to let you. You know that. I’ll handle it. I’ll pay her for you. I guarantee she’ll take money from me.” He just hoped that’d be all she’d take from him because Mac Manley wasn’t turning out to be anything like he’d thought.
“All right. And then I’ll pay you back.” Grandma repositioned herself on the sofa, crossing her legs at the ankles as he always remembered her doing. Like a lady, she’d said.
Mom had added “little old” to it.
But then, his mother was a pretentious fool. She looked down on Grandma because she’d made her own clothes and baked for the church and lived a simple life. To hear Mom tell it, Grandma had “hoarded” the life insurance money Grandfather had left, but Jared thought she’d been pretty smart. She owned this house outright and had had enough to buy her way into the facility where she was now.
She’d also been the one to insist he recuperate here. Mom hadn’t opened the house to him—not that he would’ve gone—because they were out of town and there was no sense in paying staff for just him. “Your grandmother will take you in,” Mom had said so dismissively in the hospital when he’d first woken up.
She hadn’t even bothered to come to the rehab facility once he’d been on the mend; she’d jetted off to Europe instead. Sometimes he doubted he’d even come from her and if there weren’t a picture or two to prove it, he’d doubt it even more.
Thank God for Grandma. She was really the only family he could call actual family. The rest were just biological relatives, an idealized Martha Stewart Living version of what a family should be, and if there was one thing he’d learned from playing team sports, biology didn’t make a family. Hell, even Liam and Bry and Sean had visited him more often.
“So what’s the second thing?” Jared wanted to drag himself out of that morass. His parents’ failings were something he’d learned to handle over the years.
Grandma’s smile disappeared. “I was hoping you could help Mary-Alice.”
He loved his grandmother, but she had no idea what she was asking. Or maybe she did . . . “Grandma, as you can see, I’m not exactly in shape to do any cleaning.”
“Not with the cleaning, Jared. I need help with something else. From both of you.”
Her tone worried him and all sorts of things flew through his mind. “What is it?”
She clasped her hands in her lap and took another deep breath. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve been in the attic yet, but it’s rather, um, messy.”
“Not yet.”
“I was sort of frantic when I was last up there.”
Grandma never got frantic. He was surprised she even knew the word. She’d always been calm and comforting. Over the years, whenever the fame and the pace and media coverage had gotten too much, he’d always known that he could come back here. Grandma was the slice of his childhood that he loved above everything else. Above the championships, above the MVP awards, above the nice contract, Grandma was his haven in the storm of his life. Even now, she’d been the one to offer him solitude and solace when the bottom had dropped out of his personal life and turned his professional one upside down. He’d do anything for her.
“Why, Grandma? What are you worried about?”
Her lips tightened and she stood up, now clasping her hands behind her back as she started to pace.
The kittens sat in their pen, lined up next to each other, their gazes following her as if they were at a tennis match. It’d be adorable if she weren’t worrying him so much.
“Grandma?”
She looked at him. “Oh, Jared, I’m not sick or dying. Well, not physically.”
“Now you really have me worried.”
She patted her hair, then held out her hand. Her left hand.
“I lost my wedding ring. In the attic.” She looked at him and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Your grandfather gave me that ring when we were just seventeen years old. He worked so hard to buy it, and while it wasn’t as bright and flashy and big as some people thought I should have”—he loved Grandma for not throwing his superficial mother under the bus—“it’s more valuable to me than anything because he gave it to me. Because of how hard he worked to make me his wife and give me a wonderful life.”
She walked up to him and cupped his chin and suddenly he was right back to being a young boy whose parents dropped him off for weeks at a time so they could go on vacation and do what they wanted without having him tag along. “Your father, you, this house . . . Your grandfather didn’t make a lot of money, but he gave me everything I needed, and I’ve been sick since I realized it was gone.”
“When what was gone?” Mac asked from the doorway. “Or am I interrupting something?”
Grandma waved her in. “No, Mary-Alice, of course not. You’re practically family since your grandmother is the sister I never had.” She took Mac’s arm and patted it. “I’ve lost Robert’s ring.” She held out her empty hand. “I was in the attic going through boxes—there are a lot of them—and it wasn’t until I was getting ready for bed that night that I realized it was missing.”
Grandma settled into the Queen Anne chair in front of the bay window and crossed her ankles, her hands wringing in her lap. Jared could still see the indent from her wedding ring on her finger and he did the math. That ring had been on there for almost sixty-five years, though his grandfather had been gone for thirty-five of them.
“You can imagine that I didn’t sleep well that night, and the next morning, well, I was pretty frantic. I went through every box I’d been through the day before, hoping to find it.” She held up her hand. “As you can see, I didn’t. And I can’t sell this house until I do because what if I leave it here? Robert worked so hard for it. He and I wouldn’t go on dates because he was saving every penny he could to buy it for me. I can’t lose it. I just can’t. It’s the most precious thing I have of him other than you, sweetheart. And well, I can’t really wear you around my finger, can I?”
“Actually, Grandma, you do have me wrapped around your finger.”
He got the smile out of her he’d been hoping for, but it was true. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Grandma. Including having Mac stay here.
But just for one night so he wouldn’t have to lie.
“Of course we’ll look for it, Mrs. Nolan.” Mac sank to the floor beside Grandma and patted her knee. “Right, Jared?”
“Of course.”
Grandma patted Mac’s shoulder. “Thank you so much, Mary-Alice. You see why I couldn’t have someone else clean my house? I couldn’t trust just anyone to look thoroughly enough. Your grandmother raised a wonderful son and four wonderful grandkids, so you’re the perfect person to be Jared’s second pair of eyes.”
She looked at Jared. “I’ll go get you some water to wash down those pills. Perhaps Mary-Alice can help you get up.”
Thank God Grandma turned her back because he got up all right—and not in the way she meant.
“You might want to think about different uniforms, Mac,” he said as he took the pills she offered him.
“Oh?”
Damn, he’d swiped the smile off her face. “I just meant, that, you know, the pants . . .”
“What about them?” She looked down, then twisted so she could see over her shoulder.
“They’re, uh . . .” Shit. He’d dug himself in deep with this. He should have just left well enough alone and enjoyed the view. What was it to him if she wanted every male customer to ogle her?
Did she have a lot of male customers? And if so, did she personally do their cleaning?
“What, Jared? Did I tear them or something?”
“Or something.” Thankfully, Grandma showed up just then with his water, so he didn’t have to answer. With luck, Mac would forget the question.
“So what’s wrong with them then?” she asked once he’d downed the pills, no distraction whatsoever. “They’re the uniform. My brand. If there’s something wrong with them, I’d like to know.”
“Yes, Jared, what’s wrong with them?” Grandma walked a circle around Mac, studying her. “I helped Cate design them.”
Of course she did. Why shouldn’t the grandmothers be responsible for designing a form of torture just for him? They’d probably concocted this whole housecleaning gig just to put him and Mac in the same vicinity. It’d been no secret that they would’ve liked to have been related all along; marrying off their grandchildren to each other would solidify the deal.
“I don’t see anything wrong with them. Do they feel okay, Mary-Alice?” Grandma asked.
“They feel fine.” Mac ran her hands down her hips.
Really? Really? He wasn’t in deep enough that she had to caress the curves he was trying hard not to stare at?
“They fit nicely and move well when I’m climbing ladders and stuff. I think they’re okay.” The two of them turned toward him. “So what’s your beef, Jared?”
“I . . . uh . . .” He raked his hand through his hair while the two women stared at him. “I just think they might be too flimsy. Don’t you think jeans might be a better fit for the job?”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” Mac nodded and spun on her heel, dismissing him while giving him a view of exactly what his beef with those damn tight pants was. “Mrs. Nolan, I finished one of the rooms upstairs and found a few photos and keepsakes behind some of the furniture that you might want.”
“Oh, that’s lovely, Mary-Alice. Let’s go take a look.” Grandma looked at him. “Let’s get Jared on the sofa and then we’ll go up.”
“I got this.” He didn’t want Mac anywhere near him right now.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself upright onto his butt. Tightening his abs to move his legs around was painful, but nowhere near what he’d already had to deal with.
Then Mac bent over to pet the kittens.
“God damn.” The words were out of his mouth before he thought better of it.
At least he hadn’t whistled.
“Oh, Jared.” Grandma came running over. “Honey, did you hurt something?”
“Nah. It’s just the ribs. They’re still sore.” Yeah, blame it on them so she wouldn’t suspect that he couldn’t breathe because Mac in those pants sucked the air right out of him.
“That’s it. I am moving back in. I’ll go home and grab some clothes. Dafna and the girls will have to play bridge without me tonight. And bunco tomorrow. It’s not important.”
Like hell it wasn’t. Grandma loved her social life at the new place, and he definitely didn’t need her eagle eyes watching him around Mac. “Grandma, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to babysit me.”
“But you shouldn’t be alone.”
“He won’t. I’ll be here.” Mac sounded as happy as a funeral director.
“Are you certain you’re okay with babysitting Jared, Mary-Alice?”
Babysitting! “Hello?” He waved a hand. “I’m right here and I don’t need babysitting. Mac volunteered to help take care of the kittens, so I’ll be fine. Go back to your friends, Grandma. No need to skip your games for me.”
“You’re certain, dear?” She looked at Mac.
He didn’t need Mac’s seal of approval. “Of course I’m sure, Grandma. I’m not an invalid.”
“I meant Mary-Alice, Jared. I know how grumpy you can be. I do hope you’ll be on your best behavior while she’s here.”
Jared wisely kept his mouth shut.
Mac glared at him. “It’ll be fine, Mrs. Nolan. Jared and I have an understanding.”
Grandma patted Jared’s shoulder as she stood. “Can I get you anything, dear, before Mary-Alice and I go upstairs to see what she’s found?”
For a second, he had an overwhelming urge to ask her for a hug. Something so innocuous at times, something so common . . . He’d never realized how much he took them for granted until there was no one to give him any.
Geez, he was getting maudlin. Must be the pain. “No, I’m good. You two go. Me and the stooges will be fine.”
Grandma looked at Mac as they left the room. “Stooges?”
“He named the kittens after The Three Stooges,” explained Mac.
“But there are four.”
“There were more than three as it turns out.”
“Then why call themselves The Three Stooges?”
“Beats me. It’s a guy thing, I think.”
Yeah, women didn’t get The Stooges. Just like guys didn’t get the knick-knack thing. It was surprising the race had survived for so long.
Then he got a side view of Mac in those figure-hugging pants and fitted golf shirt.
Maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.
* * *
MILDRED dialed Cate’s number, then picked up the chocolate sampler box on her bedroom dresser once she was back in her new place.
“Well?” Cate didn’t even bother to say hello.
“They bought it.” Mildred tilted open the box lid and smiled at what was inside. The only thing she loved more than chocolate—besides her family and friends—was this ring that Robert had worked so hard for.
She slid it onto her finger. Even for those few hours, she’d felt naked without it. As if she was being unfaithful to him.
But it’d been for a good cause. These two, Jared and Mac, they were perfect for each other and always had been. The sparks that flew between them . . . Phew. They reminded her of her and Robert.
“They didn’t suspect anything, did they?”
“Come now, Cate, you know me better than that. Who convinced you she had the mumps back in the day until you were so upset you thought you had to have them, too, so we’d die together?”
“It’s cruel of you to remind me of that, and kids these days have the internet to check facts. They’re not as gullible as we were.”
“Well I still haven’t lost my acting chops. Even got a few tears to eke out.”
“Brilliant.”
“I know.”
“Modest, too.”
“Of course. When have you known me to be any different?”
Cate chuckled on the other end of the line. “True. Mildred, you are one of a kind.”
Mildred held out her hand to see her tiny, tiny diamond catch the light and wink at her—just like Robert used to. This ring was more precious to her than any of the ten-carat monstrosities celebrities were wearing these days.
“Actually, Cate, that’s not true. The two of us are quite the pair and we’re going to come out of this with one heck of a winning hand when we get those two together.”
Chapter Thirteen
JARED winced as he set Shemp back in the pen and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Mac was going to be back soon, thank God.
He shook his head. He never thought he’d say that.
He straightened, wincing again. Hmmm, maybe he had done some damage after all.
He crutched over to the mirror in the foyer
and pulled his shirt over his head, inspecting his ribs.
The bruising was gone. They were still sore, but not any more than they’d been earlier today. Not any more than they were after a good workout actually. But he had lost muscle—one more thing he’d lost because of Camille.
God, how had he been so stupid? So blind? Talk about pride going before a fall; women had been coming on to him since he could remember. He’d never suspected Camille of having a reason other than being attracted to him. He wasn’t like some of the other guys whose sole attraction to the opposite sex was the contract and cachet of being a sports star. He’d grown up with these looks. Knew how they affected the opposite sex. Used it to his advantage more times than he was proud of. He’d never suspected Camille had a boyfriend. Or that she was getting gifts from him to funnel back to that boyfriend. It made her a whore, but when he’d called her that, she’d just laughed. Said he’d been the one paying for it and how pathetic was that?
Not pathetic. Gullible. Trusting. Wanting to believe in happily-ever-afters.
Mac showed up in the mirror behind him.
“Don’t you knock?”
“Given the fact that we’ve known each other practically our whole lives and I’m here to do you a favor, plus I have a key, I didn’t think I had to. But if it makes you happy . . .” She knocked on the door. “Mind if I come in?”
Hell yes. And no. And . . . shit. He was acting like an ass. “Sorry, Mac. I’m beat.”
“I get that.” She shut the door behind her and handed him a business card. “Here. This was on your door.”
He didn’t get the scorn in her voice until he read what was on the card.
Call me if you’re lonely ~Renee.
Really? People actually paid to have these printed? Made him feel just so special that he was one out of a box of five hundred.
“You go on up and I’ll bring the kittens. In case you’re lonely.” She swung her duffel bag around to her back.
“Bring them? Where?”
“To your grandmother’s room. Don’t worry; we won’t infringe upon your visit with Renee.”