Page 46 of Wrong Number, Right Unicorn

“It’s not the lack of color. They don’t have any personality.”

That stumped me. I closed one eye and studied the cribs. Nah, I didn’t get it. Closed the other one and took a step back. I got nothing. How did a crib get personality?

Errol clapped and the bored sales assistant jumped. “Grams!”

“Has she got a hidden talent I’m not aware of?” She enjoyed knitting and sewing, so maybe a frill here and a tassel there might give the cribs “personality,” but that would pose a danger to our little one.

“She’s a woodworker.”

That was news!

“She made the coffee table in her living room and the bookshelves in her bedroom.”

Grams was full of surprises. “Okay, so what are you thinking?” We’d looked at rattles made by a local craftsperson, but they were expensive. If Grams’s rates were cheaper, we could put in an order for a wooden rattle engraved with a unicorn on the handle. She wouldn’t question why we wanted a unicorn because she’d told him tales about the beasts from childhood.

“She can make a cradle.” He pointed to a white one. “Similar to that, but think of how special it would be if she handcrafted her great-grandchild’s bed.”

Grams had masses of energy, and her hands were always busy making something, but a cradle was a huge undertaking. I worried that it might be too much for her but that she’d say yes, not wanting to disappoint Errol.

“Let’s ask her.” He called and said we’d be at her place in twenty minutes and were bringing cake, but she said she was busy.

Errol stared at the phone. “She hung up on me.”

Grams rarely refused either cake or a visit from Errol. Something was up. Forgetting about the cake, we jumped in the car and almost broke the speed limit getting there.

“Grams!” Errol searched the rooms, but she wasn’t there. “Her purse and phone are here.” He checked the medi-alert app on his phone. “It says she’s here.”

I suspected Grams had removed the bracelet. Either that or she was hiding under the bed.

“If she’s out, she’s wandering around with no way to contact us and no money.”

We’d convinced her to wear the medi-alert bracelet so my mate could track her if she became confused again and wandered off.

Errol rubbed his bump and fisted the other hand. “What if she gets hurt?” Tears streamed over his cheeks, and I told him I’d go looking for her if he phoned the local hospitals.

But as I headed for the front door, the back door opened and Grams walked in.

“You decided to check on me, Grandson, even though I said I was busy.” She folded her arms. “I love you, and I understand you worry about me, but I’m fine.”

“Where were you?” Errol sat his grandmother on the sofa.

“I was working on something, and it’s a surprise.”

My mate’s face brightened. “For the baby?”

“Maybe.”

Grams wasn’t giving much away.

“Can you give us a hint? Is it big or small?” Errol wasn’t giving up.

She shrugged. “That depends.”

“Grams!” My mate wanted answers, and his grandmother wasn’t giving him any.

“Your turn,” my mate said to me and jerked his head toward Grams.

I had a head start because I could smell the sharp almost citrus scent of wood. And there was sawdust on the bottom of Grams’s trousers. Her eyes locked on mine, and the message I got was, “Don’t tell.”

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