Page 21 of The Long Game

She dismissed Jack with a wave of the hand holding a long cigarette, a curlicue of smoke rising above her shoulder. Eyesin a familiar shade of cobalt blue narrowed on Grady. “And you are?”

“This is Grady,” Jack said. “He’s going to help with the couch. Grady, this is my mother, Margaret Chevalier.”

She harrumphed and disappeared back into the house, a trail of smoke and her caustic voice trailing behind her. “It’s about time. I was going to put down a rug in the garage and start calling it the den, it’s been so long.” The way her elegant silver-handled cane thumped across the floor spoke of her displeasure.

Neat trick.

Jack let out a long-suffering sigh and stepped into the house. “Sorry about this,” he murmured. “We won’t stay long.”

Grady gave Jack a reassuring smile. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

“Short of discovering a cure for rheumatoid arthritis and terminal crankiness, you can start by swapping out the wreaths. Just pack the old one in the same box.” Jack tapped the big box under Grady’s arm once and took the grocery sack from his other hand.

Grady nodded and set to work taking down the circle of silk spring flowers and replacing it with one made of fake sunflowers and woven rattan. Recalling the precision flower beds out front, he took an extra moment to make sure the wreath hung perfectly straight.

Margaret Chevalier eyed Grady the whole time.

Jack made a couple more trips to the truck, bringing in more of the purchases and a toolbox. During one pass he took the old wreath from Grady and handed him a bottle of Windex and some paper towels. Grady cleaned the glass panes of the front door, then tackled the back door while Jack ferried trash and recyclables to the curb. Jack’s mother remained perched on the couch, vaguely annoyed by everything and distinctly suspicious of Grady.

Jack ignored her as he cleared old containers of food from the fridge and restocked it with the groceries he’d purchased, then oiled a squeaky hinge on the back door. Grady made sure to make eye contact and nod politely any time he passed through the living room.

When he was taking the toolbox out to the truck for Jack, she finally spoke.

“You two boinking?”

Grady’s step hitched, causing a wrench to slip from the top tray of the open toolbox and land on the carpet with a thump.

Jack didn’t blink at his mother’s antics. “Did you get an appointment to talk to the doctor about your knee?”

Grady retrieved the wrench from the floor and made for the exit, telling himself not to be nosy while listening avidly.

His mother growled something, then said, “Yes, next Thursday at nine.”

Jack grimaced. “I have a work thing next Thursday, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“You told me any time was fine,” she accused.

“It is fine. I’ll figure it out,” Jack assured her as Grady stepped outside.

Grady could hear Jack’s mother’s raised voice all the way out at the truck. He sucked in a lungful of fresh air and listened for Jack’s reply, but his deeper, quieter responses didn’t carry as far. Grady now understood why Jack hesitated to ask for help with his mother. At the same time, no one should have to face Margaret Chevalier alone.

Grady figured the best thing he could do for Jack was help get everything done and stay out of his arguments with his mother. With another deep breath, Grady went back inside. Jack’s shoulders were so tight, Grady had to fight the urge to reach out and…what? Give the man a back rub in his mother’s kitchen?

“What can I do next?”

“Let’s head out to the garage,” Jack said, forcing a smile.

Grady could tell Jack was embarrassed by his mother’s muttering, still audible through the screen door once they were outside. He wished he could come up with something to say that might help, butsorry your mom is a ball-busterprobably wasn’t it.

Jack entered the detached garage through a side door and gestured grandly. “Welcome to the den.”

Grady chuckled and surveyed the tidy space containing mostly gardening equipment. “It’s nice. No car?”

“My mother never liked to drive, then the arthritis got worse and she gave it up all together.” Jack grimaced. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. Shelovesan audience.”

Grady’s heart ached. “You didn’tdragme. I practically invited myself. And I’m the one who’s sorry if my presence makes this harder.”

“No, I appreciate your help. You just shouldn’t have to take the abuse.”

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