My grandmother’s breath hitched.
“Then come over to dinner tonight,” she ordered.
I grinned.
That’d been what I was trying to accomplish anyway.
I looked at her on the screen of my phone. “You’re not dying.” I paused. “But that sounds like fun. I’m sure Fran would love to have some spaghetti and meatballs.”
My grandmother’s laugh filled the air around me.
“Oh, Taos. I love you.” She shook her head. “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”
I smiled.
“I’ll call Fran and tell her when to pick me up. And we’ll be over around dinner,” I promised.
Except, when I called Fran five minutes after hanging up with my Grans, it was to hear her say, “I’ll drop your car off to you, and I’ll hitch a ride over right now. Help her with dinner”
Something inside of my heart that was already hers bloomed into full-blown devotion. “She would love that.”
“And, seeing as my sister is now brooding, it’ll give me something to do that doesn’t have her growling and snapping at me for every single thing that I think, do or say.” She snickered.
After giving her the address, and her promising she’d leave my keys with the attendant at the front desk, I went back to work.
“All right,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This hair stylist has the means and clientele…” The chief’s phone rang, and he answered it on speaker. “Chief Wilkerson.”
“Chief Wilkerson, this is Chief Teller Kincaid. You and I spoke earlier about the traveling hair stylist that was in my city a couple of hours ago,” Chief Kincaid explained in a rough voice.
“Yes,” Chief Wilkerson confirmed. “Did you find something?”
“Sort of,” he answered. “I was heading to speak with her when we got the call about an altercation at her place of business. The parking lot of a gas station at the south side of town.” He paused. “She and a reporter were in the parking lot fighting.”
I looked over to Schultz who was closest to me. “Son of a bitch.”
Chief Wilkerson echoed my sentiments a half second later.
“Anyway, I have officers responding. I can hold them both now due to a physical altercation. And I can ask her about other things we have questions about,” Chief Teller offered. “No need for y’all to come down unless you want to.”
After thanking him for his help, I started to pack up my shit.
“I’m out,” I said. “I need a break. And I want to be there tonight for dinner.”
Schultz groaned and stood up with me. “What I wouldn’t do for a home-cooked meal that wasn’t done by me. My parents—who I moved here to help me with my nieces—are out of town. They’ve been on a country-wide wine tour for the last month and a half. And we’ve all been surviving on fast food and boxed meals.”
“You’re more than welcome,” I offered. “My Grans cooks enough for an army.”
“How about two?” Easton stood up. “I could use a break.”
After giving them directions to my grandmother’s house, I followed my own advice and headed straight there.
When I arrived, it was to find both Grans and Fran in the front of the house. Fran was picking weeds out of the garden that Grans was pointing out to her, and I felt my heart beat hard inside of my chest.
“That one there is called Belinda’s Dream. It was bred at Texas A&M by a math professor,” Grans said. “Careful of the prick.”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t tell you how many times I’d heard ‘careful of the prick’ from my grandmother as I was doing the same damn thing that Fran was doing. In fact, had Fran not been here, I would be in her exact spot doing it instead. My grandmother loved her rose bushes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many types of roses in one place before.” Fran shook her head as she glanced over her shoulder.
I felt her smile in my soul when she aimed it at me.
“There’s my boy now,” Grans called shakily.
I looked at my Grans now sitting on her walker, all but beaming at me as I walked up to them.
“There are my two favorite ladies,” I said as I arrived. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a few colleagues from work who could use a good home-cooked meal.”
My grandmother beamed.
She loved having guests.
I was glad to have her back home.
She’d been out of town with her friends for what felt like forever.
The moment I was close enough, I dropped down and wrapped my grandmother in my arms, feeling a bit sad when I felt how fragile she felt in my arms after being gone for two months.
She felt so much lighter than the last time I had my arms around her.
“Grans, you lost weight,” I accused.
Grans snickered. “I was going for walks on the deck, boy. Of course, I’ve lost weight.” She patted her lack of belly. She’d never had one. Even in old photos where she was pregnant with my dad, or my aunt and uncle, did she have much of one. “Now, help me get these roses inside, and into a vase, so my table looks presentable for when your friends get here.”
Fran stood up then, too, and handed me her burden.
I took the flowers, ignoring the ‘pricks’ and then transferred them into one hand before pulling my woman into the heat of my body and placing a chaste kiss on her lips so I didn’t scandalize my grandmother.
When we got inside, and I had the flowers all situated, my grandmother sat in her chair and snapped her fingers. “Now, tell me about the book you’re close to finishing.”
I shook my head. “I’m not anywhere close to finishing it,” I said as I watched Fran putter around the kitchen. “I would be way closer if I had time to write it. But I’ve taken up this serial killer case out of necessity, and I haven’t had time to touch it in about a month.”
“That also might be a bit my fault,” Fran admitted as she came to the table with a basket of garlic bread covered by a red towel. “I’ve been keeping him a little preoccupied.”
My Grans beamed at her. “I’d rather you keep him occupied than him buried in his work. Knowing that he’s made time for you, instead of compulsively obsessing over a case, makes you more important in my eyes than anyone he’s ever allowed in yet.”
She had a point. Nothing could keep me from obsessing over a case once I had my teeth dug into it.
The next several minutes were spent with me moving this or that for my grandmother, setting the table, bringing food to the center of the large handmade table, and making sure the extra chairs were brought in from the guest room where my grandmother kept them.
Just as everything was set ‘just right’ according to my grandmother, there was a knock on her door.
I moved to get the door, but Fran beat me to it.
She was at the door, and swinging it wide open—without, might I add, looking to see who it was—before I could so much as take a step in the door’s direction.
She beamed at Easton and Schultz.
“Schultz,” she greeted. “Where are your kiddos?”
Schultz grinned at Fran and said, “They’re at a ‘CrossFit Night Out’ or whatever.” He jerked his chin in my direction. “Something that your old man over there suggested I put them into for my sanity. It’s been a godsend these last few weeks.”