“Since your heart attack?”
Her grandpa winced guiltily. “You know about that?”
“Yes. Your cronies are all on Facebook. They posted pics visiting you in the hospital.”
Her grandpa looked pained. “I told them the interweb is a terrible place, and I want no part of it. I need to call Facebook and have them delete all the pictures and burn the negatives.”
“Yeah, that’s not how it actually works—”
“All the negatives!”
Because his eyes were twinkling, she smiled. But she still wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “I assume you’re eating well? Getting some walking in when it’s not icy?”
“I’m fine,” he said, waving all that off. “It’s my damn TV that isn’t. My friend Doug’s grandson is selling TVs now, and he convinced me to upgrade my system. But the buttons are too small on the remote and I can’t figure out how to do anything. I’m stuck on some sappy movie channel. I mean, what are the chances of that? I couldn’t get stuck on, say, ESPN?”
Jane walked into the living room and looked his system over. “It’s voice activated. We could set it up so you can just talk to your remote.”
“Talk to my remote?” He shook his head like she’d just said he could visit Mars.
“Almost as crazy as the Santa Claus story,” she said dryly.
He had the good grace to laugh. “I just wanted you to believe in something good.”
Her heart squeezed hard enough to hurt, but she concentrated on setting up his system and . . . failed. “Okay, I’m going to have to call in tech support,” she finally admitted.
“It’s a little late . . .”
“Oh, don’t you worry, this tech support’s open 24/7.” She pulled out her phone and called Levi.
He answered with “You okay?”
Her heart swelled against her rib cage. “I am. I’m actually calling for tech support. You available?”
“Always.”
She disconnected. “He’ll be right here.”
The doorbell rang and her grandpa’s brows went up, but he headed to the door. “Are you her fellow?” he asked Levi.
Levi looked past him to Jane, and she felt him taking visual inventory. His gaze slowed on her face and she knew he could see the trace of tears.
“Right now I’m tech support,” he said to her grandpa.
“And later?”
“Whatever she needs me to be.”
Jane felt her heart warm for Levi in a whole new way as her grandpa let Levi in.
Chapter 18
Levi kept his gaze on Jane, wanting a sign from her that she was okay. She gave him a small smile, looking emotional but more relaxed than she’d been in the car.
“Grandpa,” she said, “this is Levi Cutler. Levi, this is my grandpa, Lloyd Parks.”
Her grandpa was the same height as Jane, and round and solid as a tree trunk. He wore round spectacles, but was looking over the top of them at Levi. He had a wild mane of white hair that seemed to defy gravity—except for the bald spot at the top—and a beard that ensured he could pass for Santa if he wanted. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Parks,” he said and shook the man’s hand.
“Call me Lloyd,” her grandpa said. “In fact, if you can fix my TV, you can call me whatever you want.”
“I’ll do my best.” Levi put a hand on Jane’s shoulder, running it lightly down her arm to squeeze her fingers.
She smiled and squeezed back. She was okay, at least for now.
Good enough for him.
She brought him over to the TV and handed him the remote. “Hope this is in your realm of expertise.” Then she turned to her grandpa. “Did you have dinner?”
“Yes, and the hot cocoa was excellent.”
“Grandpa, when someone has a heart attack, that someone should change his entire way of living, including how he eats.”
Her grandpa smiled. “You’ve got your grandma’s bossiness.”
She pointed at him. “Don’t try to distract me with sentiment, because trust me, my heart’s hard as stone. Did you really not eat yet?”
“I had some cookies.”
“Grandpa.”
“I need them.”
“You don’t need them.”
“Kuchi zamishi,” Levi said.
Lloyd laughed in delight and pointed at him. “Exactly! See, he gets it!”
Jane looked at Levi, clearly waiting for the translation.
“Kuchi zamishi is a Japanese saying. It’s the act of eating because your mouth is lonely,” Levi said.
“Hence the cookies,” Lloyd explained to Jane.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re saying you eat bad because you’re lonely?”
“Maybe?”
“I’d remind you of whose fault that is,” she said. “But I don’t think you need the reminder. You’re going to start taking better care of yourself.”
“I—”
“You will,” she said. “So that when I come back, you can tell me about it.”
Lloyd’s voice softened. “I will.” He dropped himself into the recliner that had clearly seen a lot of years and looked at Levi with a wry smile. “My sweet, gentle, mild-mannered granddaughter.”
“She’s a lot of things,” Levi agreed. “All of them incredibly great, but . . .” He smiled at Jane. “I’m not sure mild-mannered is one of them.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I know,” Lloyd said proudly. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”
Jane went into the kitchen. A moment later they heard her mutter, “Oh my God. You’re using real butter, cream cheese, and whipped cream? Seriously?”
Lloyd cackled, clearly enjoying himself.
As for Levi, he was enjoying watching Jane handle her grandpa. Not giving away her heart, holding her thoughts close to the vest, but being far more open than he’d imagined she’d be. In spite of her wariness, she was being sweet. Caring. Real. It was clear her grandpa loved it. And her, at least in his own way.
And crazy as it seemed, Levi was pretty sure he was heading that way himself. Shaking his head, he turned to his task. The TV.
“So . . .” Lloyd said, watching him work. “You and Jane seem close.”
“Hmm,” he said noncommittally. He held out the remote. “Okay, I think we’ve got it. Let me show you how to use this. I’ll also write down the password for you.”
“You think I’m old enough to forget things?”
Levi slid him a look. “I don’t think age has anything to do with . . . forgetting things.” Or people . . .
Lloyd held his gaze, then nodded grimly. “Yeah. But I intend to work on that.”
“Good.”
The old man sighed. “I’m glad you don’t want to kick my ass. I’d like to kick my own ass for letting so much time pass.”
“Not my place,” Levi said, but didn’t offer any empty platitudes about it being okay. Because it wasn’t. Not in his book.
Lloyd gave a gruff nod. “Not letting me off the hook. I get that. I deserve that. She got passed around more than an offering basket in church, and I blame myself for that too. I let my grief overwhelm me, and then I let my embarrassment over how I’d handled things keep me from finding her. I don’t deserve her, but I intend to try and make up for whatever I can for as long as she’ll let me.”