Page 21 of Recipe for Rivals
After living amidst the hustle of the city that never sleeps, itwas foreign to be surrounded by silence. The man watering his lawn waved, and I waved back. When was the last time a stranger had smiled at me on the sidewalk in the city? Probably a tourist, whenever it was.
This peaceful, slow way of living didn’t seem sustainable in the long term, but for this moment, I breathed in deeply. It was good for now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
DUSTY
The crew had goneto Gigi’s for breakfast once our shift ended this morning, but I drove straight to Pleasant Gardens instead. I’d gotten a call last night that Grandpa had been trying to walk across the street to the McDonalds. He’d had it in his head that we were going to meet for lunch—at three in the morning. Waiting four hours until my shift ended to go see him was brutal, especially when we got a call about a man’s arm getting stuck in a pipe only an hour before I was off duty.
But it all worked out, we got the guy’s arm free, and I was on my way to see my grandpa.
By the time I reached his room, he was in the shower. I sat in the facility living room on a stiff armchair and waited for him to finish getting ready for the day, staring at the indistinctive painting of a bowl of fruit on the opposite wall. It was undoubtedly someone’s attempt at creating a homey atmosphere. There were always a handful of residents hanging around here, and now was no exception.
Grandpa left his room using his walker, and I met up with him in the hallway on the way to breakfast. “Getting a late start?”
He glanced at me and, for the briefest moment, I thought he didn’t know who I was. Then he pushed into the dining room and toward his regular table. “Did you bring me a new puzzle?”
Relief sluiced through me. “We haven’t finished the cowboy cats yet, Gramps.” I helped him sit and took a chair next to him. The thick smell of breakfast sausage and antiseptic filled the room.
He eyed the place setting in front of me. “That isn’t yours.”
“Should I wait for you in the rec room?”
“You’d better. I don’t want John accusing us of dirtying his fork.” Grandpa shook his balding head, the fluorescent lights shining off his scalp. “He’s loony. Thinks everyone’s out to get him.”
This coming from a man who had been trying to get lunch in the middle of the night, but I swallowed my retort and pushed away from the table. I was just thrilled he didn’t seem any worse than normal. Last night was a blip. “Take your time. I have all day.”
My phone started ringing when I walked toward the rec room, so I let myself outside to answer it. “Hey, Tuck.”
“You busy?”
“Just in Beeler.”
“Pleasant Gardens?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“How’s your grandpa?”
I rubbed a hand over my jaw. “He had a bad night. Lots of confusion. But now he seems perfectly normal.”
Tucker sighed. “I’m sorry, man. It’s all those UT games. You’ve got to stop letting him watch the reruns.”
A grin spread over my lips. I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “The Longhorns are probably the only thing keeping him sane.”
“And the Cowboys?”
“You know he bleeds blue and silver.” The air was cold out here, so I slipped my hand into my jacket pocket. “What’s up?”
“Not trying to rope you into auctioning yourself off for a date or anything, don’t worry.”
I chuckled. I’d done that to him last year, but it had worked out all right for him.
“My dad had an idea for your auction,” Tucker said. “He offered to bring Steve.”
“His steer?”
“Yeah. He thought you could use him for a photo op. Let people sit on Steve for five bucks or something like that. You know they rake in money doing that in the Stockyards.”