“No, Grandma,” Callie said, unable to hold back her laugh at the picture of the diminutive Lucille trying to take down the tall, built Sam Brody. “She’s good. And Sam’s good.”
“So why can’t you be good?”
“I am good,” Callie said. “There’s nothing wrong with being alone, Grandma.”
“Well, of course not.” Lucille smiled when Mr. Wykowski squeezed her hand and gave her a kiss on her cheek before rising to make coffee.
Lucille leaned into Callie and whispered, “But as I’ve recently discovered, letting someone in brings unexpected benefits. And I’m not just talking about the money that can be saved on batteries.” She waggled her brows suggestively.
“Grandma.”
“Oh, relax,” Lucille said. “I’m talking about the joy of waking up to the person you love and seeing their face right away. Or going through hard times, such as the death of a friend, and having someone be there to hold your hand. Or when you’re sick yourself and need help…I mean, sure, you could handle all that on your own and you always have. Again, I blame your shortsighted, selfish parents. But this is about you, honey, and sometimes, just once in a while, it’s nice not to be all on your own.”
“Says the woman who chose to be alone for five decades,” Callie pointed out.
“Single,” Lucille said. “Not alone.” She wore a secret smile, one that turned not so secret when Mr. Wykowski turned and gave her a wink.
Callie stared at them, absorbing the clear, easy affection between them. The kind that came with years of knowing someone. “Just how old is this ‘new’ thing between you two?” she asked suspiciously.
Lucille laughed and slid Mr. Wykowski a sidelong look.
He shook his head at her but smiled and winked again.
Her grandma winked back. “Well, what does it really matter,” she asked Callie, “when it feels new?”
Well, she had Callie there. And she was thrilled for her grandma. She was. But not everyone would be lucky enough to find such a relationship. In fact, the odds were stacked against it. “It’s nice, what you’ve found, Grandma.”
“Hey, I didn’t ‘find’ it,” her grandma said. “We worked our butts off for it. You think it’s easy? It’s the polar opposite. Men don’t put the toilet seats down. They don’t get the importance of putting the toothpaste cap back on. And they certainly don’t understand why it’s disgusting to drink right out of the milk container. Some things you just gotta let go of.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Mr. Wykowski said, smiling as he brought them each a mug of coffee.
Lucille ignored him. “Look at your own parents,” she said to Callie. “They’ve been together for forty years. Forty years of joy and selfish-but-genuine happiness. Which means that you yourself grew up in a house full of love. How did that not rub off on you? Have you forgotten?”
“No. I—” Callie broke off. “I’m sorry. I’m still processing. You and Mr. Wykowski?”
“Told you,” she said. “I’ve had lots of love in my lifetime.”
“You hid it well.”
“I hid nothing.” She smiled. “I kept waiting for you to read between the lines.”
“You said he was just a friend.”
“Yeah,” her grandma said. “He’s the kind of friend that you and Tanner are, apparently.”
Callie rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hand, but nope, the images were stuck in her brain. “Grandma, tell me the truth. Are you okay?”
“If I tell you yes, are you going to use that as an excuse to leave town?”
Callie stared at her. “Please, just answer the question.”
“I maybe sometimes pretended to not be okay to keep you here,” Lucille said. “Which I believe makes me wicked and deceitful, but not crazy. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you already knew this.”
True. To the bone true. “I’ve got to go.”
“To San Francisco?”
“I should say yes,” Callie said.
Lucille, confident, happy, grinned. “Take the leftover brownies, honey. They were made by Leah with love. Not as good as I made back in the seventies, but love wasn’t the key ingredient in mine and they frown upon those nowadays. Anyway, these’ll do nicely. Maybe some of that love will wear off on you by digestion.”
Halfway back to her apartment, Callie took a detour and drove past her childhood home. It was a small row house, on a long street of others just like it.
Her parents had sold it a decade ago when Callie had gone off to college and they’d retired and moved to Palm Springs.
Another family lived in it now, and she had no idea why she was even here. Especially since not all the memories were good ones.
Lucille had been right, her parents had loved each other, and her. Still did. But they’d been much older than most of her classmates’ parents, and not particularly active.
Without siblings, Callie had spent many lonely days and weeks, even months alone during the summer when her friends had been on vacay with their families.
Her parents, being as reserved as they were, had never questioned why Callie had spent so much time by herself. Nor had they ever encouraged her to engage in social activities, or play sports, or anything like that.
At the time, it’d simply been her life, and she hadn’t given it much thought. But now, looking back, she wished they’d given her a push, at least a little one.