Page 50 of Anchored

I glance over, angry on her behalf. “Have I mentioned what a dick he is?”

Maple shrugs. “It’s not even his request that’s so bad. It’s the fact that I let him silence me. I may be a terrible singer, but I love to sing and dance and move my body. I’m mad that I let him take that from me.”

I reach over and hold her hand. She quickly loses the frown, and before we switch freeways approaching the city, she’s asleep, her blonde hair covering her face. I smile at her sleeping form and wonder when I felt this level of comfort in the past. I can’t recall a time when I felt this…settled. Happy. Excited about every day. Certainly never with Macy.

The senior home is quiet when we arrive. I imagine all the residents are in their homes in front of televisions, bellies full of subpar food. That’s one of the things I spend money on at Sunny Shores. I want my residents to have gourmet food that’s good for their health, but also tasty.

I hate to do it, but I have to nudge Maple awake. Her head pops up and she swipes at the corner of her mouth before giving me an excited smile.

“We’re here?”

I nod. “We’re here.” We get out, pulling Mookie from the back, clipping her leash on, and walking to a patch of grass so she can do her business. Then we head for building three hundred, coming to stop at Grandpa’s door. I knock once, hoping I don’t startle him. He might even be snoozing, at which case, we’ll have to come back tomorrow.

I’m just about to suggest that when the door sweeps open. He stands there in his standard slacks and plaid button-down shirt, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t want chocolate!”

“I’m not selling any chocolate, Harold. It’s me, Holt. Your grandson.”

He purses his lips and then his face clears, tipping into a friendly smile. “Holt! Why didn’t you say so?” He pushes open the screen door and he lets the three of us enter. The place smells like toast and coffee, a scent that brings me back to being a little kid and visiting my grandparents.

“Grandpa, this is Maple and my dog, Mookie.” I get the introductions out of the way, hoping he won’t ask what Maple is to me. I forgot to ask if we were continuing with the engagement farce.

Grandpa ignores the dog yipping at his feet in favor of taking Maple’s outstretched hand and bringing it to his lips. “Well, hello, beautiful Maple.”

I roll my eyes. Grandpa was always a flirt and I see old age hasn’t changed him a bit. Maple eats it up, leaning in to give him a hug. Grandpa smiles conspiratorially over her shoulder. I huff out a laugh.

“We were hoping to chat with you about something,” I say when the hug goes on longer than necessary.

Am I jealous of my own grandfather right now?

Jesus. I’m farther gone over this woman than I thought.

ChapterNineteen

Maple

Hank, or Harold, doesn’t look a whole lot like Holt. But he has the same charm. He doesn’t let go of my arm as we walk into his living room. The place is small and dark. It makes me sad to think of him all alone here. Twenty years without his wife is a long time.

“Have a seat,” Harold says, gesturing to the small couch with more cushions than space to sit on.

A cracked leather recliner with a glass of wine sitting on the table next to it is clearly where Harold sits to watch the television. I go to sit, but there’s a crash and a gasp, bringing my head back around. Harold’s knocked over the glass of wine as he went to sit. It’s now mostly in his lap. Mookie barks her concern. Holt leaps into action, righting the glass and helping his grandfather stand. Harold curses under his breath, looking down at his ruined pants in embarrassment.

“How about I go walk Mookie so she calms down?” I suggest, already heading back to the door. Holt gives me a head nod and then turns his attention back to Harold.

“How about we get you a fresh pair of pants while I clean this up, Grandpa?”

The door closes softly behind me. Mookie tugs at the leash, wanting to explore this new place and mark the ground every two feet with her scent. “Holt’s just about the sweetest guy I know, Mookie.”

Mookie looks up at me. She lifts her leg and pees on the sidewalk.

I stifle a laugh. I could swear she knows what I’m saying. “He is. You should see some of the men out there.” I shiver, even though it’s just as warm here as it was in Anchor Lake. “I hope it wasn’t a mistake to come out here and tell Harold about Grandma. I’d hate to upset an old man. Or to cause Holt problems. But don’t you think love deserves a second chance?”

The tiny dog sits on her haunches and yips at me. I refuse to take that as anything but a yes. I so badly want to see Grandma get her happily ever after, or even just closure on what happened when she was eighteen. She and I have always been so similar, and in my mind, if she can find love again, it’s basically saying that I have a chance too. That if the world can love and accept her, it can love and accept me too. That I am not destined to be alone forever, wondering why I’m so different from everyone else.

“Moonbeam?” Holt’s voice calls from behind me. Mookie takes off in his direction and I follow.

He’s smiling at me, holding the door to his grandpa’s place. “All good. Thanks for giving us a minute.” He kisses my cheek as I slide by him into the condo.

I sit on the loveseat and Mookie curls up immediately at my feet. Holt takes my other side, our bodies touching on this too-small couch. Harold is in his chair, wine gone. He scrubs a hand across his chin and I notice his snow-white hair is neatly combed now, like he took the time to throw some water on it and look more presentable.

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