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Carly’s cheeks pinked. “More like chores.”
Mr. Davis chuckled, and Wyatt smiled.
Anita hadn’t expected his smile. Well, it wasn’t out of line, but she hadn’t expected his smile to make his eyes lighter and make her pulse jump. She decided to attribute it to the fact that Glenn was currently annoying her, and she hadn’t let her gaze stray for a long time.
Wyatt looked at Carly again. “Someday you’ll be grateful for your chores, because there’s nothing worse than having a college roommate who doesn’t know how to do the dishes and never throws away rotten food.”
Carly’s brows popped up. “Did that happen to you?”
“Sure did,” he said. “But if you can already garden and grow things that turn into beautiful art made by your mother, then I’ll bet you’re more independent than most grownups. You could probably go to college right now.”
Carly smirked, but Anita could see she was pleased at the compliment.
Wyatt’s gaze shifted to Anita again. He didn’t say anything, but didn’t seem to have any qualms about just looking at her. She scrambled for something to say. “Where did you, ah, go to college?”
“San Diego,” Wyatt said. “Far away enough to get out from under my grandpa’s thumb, yet close enough to come home for holidays.”
“Oh, he’s exaggerating,” Mr. Davis said with a wave of his hand. “Once he went to college, he became a complete stranger.”
“What are you talking about?” Wyatt said, his gaze snapping to his grandpa. “I came back almost every month for one thing or another.”
Mr. Davis tapped his chin. “Well, maybe you did. It was a long time ago.” He smiled at Carly. “You want to put away all this painting stuff? We can get out Scrabble, and if you can beat my grandson, then I’ll know you’re a real expert.”
Carly didn’t waste a second. She popped up from the table and cleared everything off, leaving the painted faux glass on one edge. When she took the paintbrushes to wash in the sink, Mr. Davis said, “I’ll help you.”
Anita watched with surprise as he used his walker to go with Carly to the utility sink outside the dining room.
“You know, my grandpa told me about you and your daughter on the phone this morning,” Wyatt said.
“Oh, so you know why we came in the first place.”
He nodded. “Yeah, and I think it’s great that you’re spending time with people at this center, but you must know that my grandpa has been living inside his own memories for the past while. It’s why he’s here. For the physical as well as memory care.”
“Does he have dementia?” she asked.
“Not diagnosed,” Wyatt said. “At least not yet. Ever since he received that postcard, he’s been telling some rather strange stories of his past—things I’d never heard of before. I can only conclude that they’re made up.”
Anita was surprised at this. Did he mean everything about Susan was made up? “Was the postcard real?”
“He showed it to me, but his name wasn’t on it. Not even on the address. Susan could have been writing to anyone.”
“Oh,” Anita said. “That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, to say the least,” Wyatt said. “I’m just glad the postcard didn’t arrive when my grandma was alive. I’m sure hearing a fictional story about her husband’s first love wouldn’t have been easy to bear.”
Anita nodded. What else could she do?
“So I need a favor from you,” Wyatt said, lowering his voice. Carly and Mr. Davis were on their way back. “If he brings it up again, change the subject. I don’t want his imagination to run away with him, or pretty soon he’ll be convinced that it was all real.”
Anita didn’t say that Mr. Davis had already convinced her it was real. “Okay,” she said, but something felt off, because the look in Wyatt’s eyes told her he wasn’t entirely convinced Susan was a fictional.
1919
SAM WAS READY TO TELL her. But how do you tell your best friend that you’ve been in love with her for years? Would Susan think he was a fraud? They’d shared their deepest thoughts. They’d spent weekends together going to the library to study, going to the cinema, or bowling with their group of friends. When they were kids, they rode bikes, built a treehouse, and collected bugs for an insect collection.
He couldn’t think of a time when Susan wasn’t the first person he wanted to talk to. Anything that happened in his life, he wanted to tell her.
And now, he needed to tell her this.
