Page 70 of Luck of the Devil
I smothered down my irritation. We needed to get back to Lone County and keep digging into my mother’s death. Sure, I would love to continue this stroll down memory lane, but if my aunt came over soon, we could have a short, contained conversation. Not a possibly hours’ long event.
“Do you think it would be okay if Harper and I looked at any old photos you might have?” Malcolm asked. “I’d love to see some from when Sarah Jane and Hannah were younger.”
My grandmother excitedly pushed herself to her feet, then grabbed her cane, bobbing a bit before she gained her balance. Malcolm tensed beside me as though preparing to spring from his seat to prevent her from falling.
“I have a bunch of photo albums in my room.” She beamed as she turned her attention to Malcolm. “Can you help me bring them out, James?”
He got to his feet. “I’d be honored.”
Grandma glanced over at my grandfather. “Can you text Hannah and ask her over to come over for dinner? Don’t tell her that Harper’s here. Just say we have two special guests.”
My grandfather lifted his butt as he reached into his front jeans pocket. “On it.”
“How long have you been with my granddaughter?” Grandma asked as they disappeared down the hall.
“A couple of months,” he said.
“We’re just friends!” I shouted after them. The last thing I needed was for my grandparents to get the wrong idea.
Grandpa chuckled. “Just friends, you say?”
“Yes,” I countered, trying to soften the automatic attitude that rose up. “Just friends.”
He shook his head. “Why would a man drive three hours with a woman if they weren’t in a relationship?”
I wasn’t about to explain the true nature of our relationship, not that I could if I tried. “It’s possible for a man to be friends with a woman and offer her moral support while she tells her grandparents their oldest daughter died.”
“I suppose that’s true,” he conceded sheepishly before adding, “But I saw the way he was watching you when you were upset. It was the look of man who cares for a woman.”
I nearly laughed. Malcolm was doing one hell of a job selling my grandparents on our friendship, but I needed to tell him to tone it down since they’d both gotten the wrong idea. “I can assure you, we’re not romantic at all. We’ve both been very clear with each other that our relationship is platonic.”
He wore an amused expression as he kept his gaze on his phone and tapped the screen. “Friend or more, he’s a fine young man. I’m glad you have him. As a friend.”
I silently groaned then couldn’t help laughing. I’d forgotten the way he used to tease me when I was a kid. He and my grandmother had always been so lighthearted. It was hard to believe they’d raised my mother, who was the exact opposite. Would things have been different for me if they’d still been part of my life after Andi’s death? Would I have been less damaged? Our family of three had become so solemn and depressed, which was understandable, but we’d never found our way out of it.
My grandfather spent the next minute composing his text, stabbing the phone screen with his right index finger. By the time he’d finished, Malcolm appeared at the edge of the living room with an armload of photo albums.
I stared at the stack in surprise. “You guys have a lot of photos.”
Malcolm dropped them on the coffee table, then picked up the whiskey bottle and carried it into the kitchen, calling out as he went, “There’s even more back there, but they were from before your mother was born.”
“I’ve got photos all the way back to the late 1800s,” my grandmother said. “Some of random things, but a lot of them are of my grandparents and their families.”
“I keep telling her she needs to turn them over to a historical society,” Grandpa grumbled, balancing his phone on the arm of his chair. “But she’s not ready to part with ’em yet.”
She groaned in exasperation. “I’ve told you a million times, Gary, that you can give ’em to whoever you want once I’m dead. Right now, they aren’t hurtin’ a doggone thing back in the closet.”
“They’re takin’ up valuable space,” he countered.
Malcolm walked out of the kitchen and stopped in the doorway holding a glass of ice water. “I hope it’s okay that I helped myself to a glass of ice water for Harper. I thought she might need it after our drive.”
“Oh, my heavens,” Grandma said in horror. “I never offered either of y’all refreshments.”
“Gary gave us whiskey,” Malcolm said, handing me the glass before he sat down next to me. “That seemed more fitting at the time.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Grandma said, then turned her attention to the albums. “But I’ve still forgotten my manners.”
“You had a few other things on your mind,” Malcolm said, then put a hand on the photo album at the top that stack. “Where should we start?”
