Page 7 of Broken Grump

“Can I make you something? It’ll just take a second to whip up a sandwich.”

I grab my coat and drape it over my forearm. “No, I’m fine.”

Finally, she catches up with me, but she’s a little out of breath when she asks, “You’re sure?”

“Yes, Bets.” I turn my head and bend down to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you, though.”

She beams and clutches her pudgy hands together across her abdomen. “You’re welcome. But shall I expect you for dinner?”

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“Good. I’m making your favorite.”

“Swedish meatballs?”

She nods.

Lucky guess.“I can’t wait,” I murmur with a wink before spinning on my heel and heading out the door.

“Where to, sir?” Lionel, my trusty half-Congolese and half-Jewish driver, asks, after I pile into the back of the black SUV I bought for him to cart my ass around every now and then.

“Rawlings Real Estate.”

He pushes a few buttons on his phone, but after I hear the robotic voice telling him to take a left at the upcoming traffic light, I know that we’re on track.

So, I put my headphones in and start drumming along with my hands on my thighs.

However, I pause when I see a glimpse of something sparkly out of the corner of my eye. Then, after looking closer, I see that it’s a “Thank You” card.

“Hey, Lionel?”

He pulls down his sunglasses, which reveal the large mole he has near the bottom of his left eye, and he looks at me in the reflection of his rearview mirror. “Yes, sir?”

“What is this?” I hold it up for him to see, but I answer my own question when I open it and see her signature:

Love always,

Addie <3

Nevertheless, he explains, “Miss Addie Flores sent me that the other day.”

“For what?”

“Well, I drove for her grandfather for almost forty years before you hired me.”

That’s right.Once Sal had his first stroke, he mostly stayed and worked from home. So, I snatched Lionel up for myself when I heard he might need another gig.

“May I?” I ask before opening it further.

“Sure.” He nods and covers his dark brown eyes again.

Dear Lionel,

Well, now that my abuelo has passed, I finally feel like I can finally thank you for saving my butt so many times when I was younger. I know I had a bit of a wild streak back in high school, but I could always count on you to pick me up and bring me home safely.

Huh.I had no idea about any of that.

P.S. Thank you for not letting Nick Cordain ride home with us that one time. You were right. He was bad news.

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