Then I spot her—alone in a rocking chair by the window, staring outside. My heart sinks. Her solitude never really bothered me before. But now it brings a pang to my chest. Now that I know how good it can feel to be surrounded by friends.
“There you are,” I say as I step up to her rocking chair. Her face lights up immediately.
“Harper, finally.” She hobbles to her feet, and I wrap her in a hug, noticing how frail she feels. She seems lighter than a few weeks ago.
“How are you doing?” I murmur, studying her face. She looks tired—but then again, I’m not one to talk, after staying up half the night chasing down leads on Victor.
“Same old,” she says, waving off my question. “How are you? You look tan.”
“I did spend more time outside than usual,” I reply with a chuckle. “Speaking of, I wanted to introduce you to Baptiste. He’s the guy I told you about.”
Baptiste steps forward. “Good afternoon, Glenda. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You’re the hockey player, then,” she says, wrinkling her nose. She reluctantly offers her hand, and Baptiste bends to kiss it—polite and old-school.
Grandma averts her eyes for half a second, and I know he just scored a point.
“So,” she says, turning fully to face me, even though Baptiste is still standing there, “you like him.”
I glance at Baptiste, a smirk teasing my lips. “I tolerate him better than most people.”
He laughs.
Grandma pivots to him, openly inspecting him from head to toe. “Why are you still single with a face like yours?”
He blinks back in shock, then chuckles. “It must be my personality.”
She hums. “Funny guy, huh? Do you have a real job, or do you just chase a puck all day?”
“Grandma,” I warn.
“It’s a fair question,” she counters.
Baptiste grins. “I chase a puck professionally, and it pays the bills. But I also give back, support charities, and I’m very adept at carrying heavy grocery bags.”
She considers that. “Strong arms are useful. And how about family? Do you call yours often?”
He hesitates, then sighs, almost imperceptibly. “Not as often as I should.”
Helen’s face flashes in my mind. I’ve been itching to talk to Baptiste about her again, but every time I’ve brought it up, he’s turned me down. I have to try one more time now that the tournament, and all that pressure, is over.
Grandma sighs, glancing out the window. “Then do better. Time isn’t polite. It doesn’t wait.”
His jaw tightens. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay,” Grandma says, turning her sharp gaze back to me. “He’s not too bad. I could stand seeing him around more.”
“It’s a start,” I say with a smile, glancing at Baptiste. He’s grinning wide, clearly proud of himself.
“Any idea what’s going on over there?” I add, my eyes drifting toward the poker table, where a shouting match has now ensued.Voices overlap, laughter bursts out, and someone slaps the table hard enough to make a few heads turn.
She shrugs. “Everyone seems interested in poker lately.”
“You don’t play?” Baptiste asks.
“Never learned,” she replies. “I heard those kids were teaching residents, but there’s always so many people around them. Anyway, I’m not even sure it’s my style.”
“They’re my friends,” Baptiste says easily. “If you want, I can ask them to give you a solo lesson.”
