“Yes. Mac did tell me, and we did end up reading some of it last night. We decided to chalk it up to good fun.” The more I thought about that decision, the more I wondered if Mac and I were being too carefree about it.
“Yeah. Well, I wasn’t going to tell Grady, but when he got home from school yesterday, he told me about Iris and Piddy Satterly’s fight. I acted like it was no big deal. I went to put Clara to bed, and she was a little more fussy than usual.”
I stopped her right there. “What was wrong?” I asked.
“I think she’s teething, but I’ll ask the pediatrician on her six-month checkup next week anyways.” Julia continued on with her story, but I wanted to know more about Clara and what she meant by Clara being fussy. “It took me an hour to get her to sleep, and when I came back to the family room, I found Grady ripping the pages of the book out and throwing them in the fireplace.”
I didn’t expect her to say that.
“He was so mad. He went over to the nursing home and went in to see Elsbeth Clark.” There was some fear in her voice. “I begged him not to go. I told him that she was just an old lady that raised Stella Jane and she didn’t write the book. Bernie, it was like something got inside of him, like really inside of him and took ahold. I’ve never seen that in him before.”
“What happened after he came home?” I asked.
“He was fine. While he was gone, I cleaned up the remaining pieces of the torn-up book and made sure it was out of sight, nowhere to be found even if he tore the place up.” Her voiced dipped down into a whisper. “I see him coming back. I called to tell you he is meeting her for lunch at eleven, and I want you to go there and make sure he’s not going to land himself in jail for disturbing the peace or something. I’m telling you, Bernie, people around here have lost their minds over this book.”
The line went dead.
I checked the time before I put the phone back in my pocket. If I was going to get the downtown delivered before eleven, I had to hustle.
Chapter 8
And hustle I did. I had to hustle around every single tourist that came to get in line for the big book signing. It didn’t go without fanfare, either. Lucy Drake must’ve known the national news media was going to do some sort of coverage because she was dolled up to the nines. Her fake lashes fluttered, her bright-red lipstick matched her nails perfectly, and she had on a skintight dress that would’ve popped at the seams if she was sitting in that DJ booth.
I was easily ignored in my blue mail-carrier uniform, and happily so. Skipping the diner and Mac’s firm made it much easier to get the rest of the mail on Main Street delivered, and lucky for me, all the shop owners were gossiping to customers about the book. Though I was probably in there as a topic of choice, I kept my ears closed because I didn’t have time to worry about all that.
I had a grandchild that was teething and an upset son because one of his favorite students had written a tall-tale romance book that was far from a tale. There were details in there that no one should know.
“I was wondering when you were coming in.” My mom was at the counter, shaking her head. “Have you talked to your boy? He’s lost his mind. Last night, your daddy and I were sitting on our front porch when we saw his fancy new van pull up.”
“I told Barbara it was Grady, and she said it wasn’t.” My dad loved to point out when he was right when it came to my mom because it wasn’t often.
“I’m not used to seeing him in that thing. I just keep thinking he’s going to be driving that old pickup. Which reminds me, did you know Revonda Gail is in town?” Mom was like a squirrel. She hopped from one piece of gossip to the next.
“Focus, Mom,” I told her and looked over my shoulder every time the bell over the diner door rang, hoping to cut Grady off at the pass before he got in front of Stella Jane. “Get back to Grady, then we will talk about Revonda Gail.”
I’d completely forgotten about Revonda Gail and that entire situation. I wasn’t sure how much I would be able to take after talking to Grady, much less hearing what was going on with the whole Revonda situation after I left the diner, because Little Creek Road was the next on my delivery schedule.
“Your dad kept saying, ‘Barbara, that’s Grady. Why is he over there?’” She rolled her eyes. “I said, ‘Barry, I don’t know. Why don’t you go see?’”
Mom was always good at making a long story longer.
“Get to the point. I’m meeting him here with Stella Jane.” When I told her that, her face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Anyways, Barry and I walked up to the stop sign and flagged Grady down when he jumped back in that van. Did you know he was there to give poor old Elsbeth Clark a good cussing? And at her age too. Luckily, she wasn’t there, and he didn’t get ahold of her. Not that she would remember since I heard the poor old thing has dementia.” Mom sighed.
“She doesn’t have dementia,” I mumbled and waved it off, deciding not to go there. “Did you talk to him?”
“Yes. Your father and I had him come in for a dessert and milk. Remember how much he loved having a nighttime snack when he was little?” Mom always brought up memories that I’d forgotten. “Let me guess, you don’t remember.”
“I don’t.” I was happy she did though.
“Honey, you were too busy trying to get him to bed to enjoy those little things. We enjoyed every single second of him. We weren’t raising him, so it was easy to remember. Now you get to relax and enjoy all of little Clara.” Mom reached over to the glass display sitting on top of the counter, took the top off, and put one of the hand pies on a plate. “You always liked dessert too.” She put it in front of me and grabbed a fork from underneath the counter.
“You’re the best mom.” I had always told myself when I would get frustrated with Grady that I wanted him to love me the way I loved my own parents. It always put the thing that he was doing to annoy me in perspective, not seeming as important.
“He’s here.” She nodded toward the door. “I’ll grab the table over there and put your pie on it.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I twisted around on the stool, and when Grady looked my way, I threw my hand in the air.
At first he looked a bit shocked to see me, since I was normally there about an hour or so later for the lunch crowd, but then his facial features softened and he walked over.
“Hey, Mom.” He bent down and kissed me on the cheek. “Let me guess, Julia?”
“Yeah. She’s worried about you.” I pointed over to the table Mom had put the pie on. She was also carrying over Grady’s favorite drink, which he only ordered on game day. Cherry Coke with real cherry syrup and a cherry on top.
“Hey, Grandma.” He hugged my mom. “Where’s Poppy?”
“He is delivering a few meals today for me.” She patted him on the back and scurried off.
There was no way she was going to stick around to see what I said to Grady or he to me, but she would interrogate me when he was gone.
“So, what’s up?” I asked.
“I’m sure Julia told you I’m mad about what Stella Jane wrote. I can’t believe she would. . .” There were whispers and chatter among the customers that made us turn around.