Page 6 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

“Yes.”

“Rufus the rottweiler.” I bent down and petted his head.

His tongue hung from the left side of his mouth. Gran had always loved rottweilers, but Grandfather never wanted a dog. He said all they were good for was collecting fleas.

Rufus’s head was just the right size to fit into my palm. He nuzzled against it as I scratched behind his ear. After standing, I disinfected my hands, stepped over him, and bent down to kiss Gran on her cheek before lowering into the chair beside her.

“And who are the Clydesdales in the pastures?”

“Bonnie and Clyde.”

Of course, they are. What else would they be named?

“Are they yours?”

“Who else would they belong to?’

“I didn’t know if you were just boarding them.”

“Why would I do that, dear? I don’t need the money.”

“Why do you need two Clydesdales?”

“Because Clyde is in love with Bonnie. He doesn’t leave her side. They couldn’t be separated.”

“I wasn’t referring to the number of horses. I was asking why you needed horses at all.”

Her icy blue, steady gaze leveled me. “Why not?”

I took a deep breath. I knew that arguing with Gran was pointless. She was clearly enjoying her independence from my grandfather, which was understandable. She’d been married from the age of eighteen to ninety-two, and my grandparents came from a different generation. He would classify his beliefs as traditional, whereas others would say he was sexist and chauvinistic. He considered himself progressive for “permitting” women to wear pants in the office. It was problematic, to say the least.

Gran rarely talked about her life, especially the early days of their marriage. My grandfather had shared with me that she didn’t speak any English when she moved here. It took her yearsto learn the language. In her twenties, they kept trying to have a baby, and she suffered seven miscarriages. I couldn’t imagine being in a foreign country without any family and going through that. They’d given up on having kids altogether, but then she’d gotten pregnant with my dad when she was thirty-six. He was their miracle baby. I often wondered if that was why he was the way he was. If his behavior had something to do with the fact that he’d been given everything he’d ever wanted and never been made accountable. Maybe that’s why my brother was the same way.

“I like horses, so I got horses,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I like dogs, so I got a dog.”

Well, that answered that question.

“And who is this woman you hired?”

“You mean Ashley?”

“Yes, Ashley.”

“I reached out to the dean at SCAD and asked if there were any promising art students who migh?—”

“Art students?”

“I used to be an artist.”

“You did?” This was the first I was hearing about it.

“Yes. Why do you think your grandfather and I supported the arts all these years?”

I had never thought about it. Or asked for that matter. I knew that Wolfe Enterprises gave sizable donations to several colleges and schools in Atlanta for art education, but I’d never questioned why.

“So, Ashley is an art student? You hired her to do what?”

“To work with me.”

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