CHAPTER ONE
Mike
“Grammy! You didwhat?”I asked, torn between laughing and scolding her. “Again?”
“You heard me right, Mikey. Rose sent another ‘gaf’ of a bare-chested hunk to our pastor and the prayer team in the church group chat,” Gemma said with a snort, rooting around for her reading glasses and finding them on her head. As usual, we were making a scene at the assisted living facility where my grandmother and her cohorts lived.
“You forgot the part where the hunk was oily,” Edna retorted, her face screwed up like she’d eaten a lemon. Unlike the rest of her friends, she wasn’t a fan of anything remotely scandalous. Her infamous ‘granny bun’ was tighter than usual on top of her head.
“Gemma, it’s 'gif,' not 'gaf.' And Grammy, what were you thinking?” I said, with my hands raised in exasperation. Dealing with my eighty-year-old grandmother and her friends was like wrangling cats.
“Aw, come on, Mikey, don’t be upset. I’m sure Pastor Danny will forgive me. I mean, he talks about how important forgiveness is all the time from the pulpit,” she answered with a shrug. Her blue cardigan matched the hue in her hair, which, of course, she’d just gotten “done up,” as she called it. It was Saturday, after all. Her weekly hair appointment was as regular as traffic on I-5 during rush hour.
“Yeah, but this is the third time this month,” I said with a headshake. “How is it possible that you keep sending him these inappropriate photos?”
She looked at me sheepishly. “I thought I was sending prayer hands and a Bible verse.” Her eyes lowered to the white laminate floor in mock embarrassment.
Yeah, no one is buying this act, Grammy.
I was sure to get another interesting message from our pastor later in the day. He was patient and had a great sense of humor, but not everyone in that chat appreciated my grandmother’s antics.
Although after the first time, I noticed the same shirtless man set as the background on the phone of one of the shy, older hospitality volunteers, Debra. My mother always warned me about the quiet ones. I gave her and her innocent-looking pastries a wide berth after that little discovery.
“I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re senile anyway, Rose,” Doris said to Grammy with a smirk, pulling her crochet closer as she inspected it. I hoped it wasn’t another attempt at a sweater for me. The last one had no opening for my head, Doris having forgotten that tiny detail. She was never without her crochet hooks and some project gone awry.
“Shows how much you know, Doris. Pastor Danny loves me. His wife, Lauren, told me once I’m his favorite member,” Grammy said with a slight head shake, placing her book on the table.
“That’s ‘cause he thought you were about to kick the bucket when you broke your hip, you goofball,” Edna answered, not even looking up from her tablet. She pushed her glasses off her head, squinting as she tried to read whatever had her attention. Most likely, it was Facebook. The four of them were obsessed with it. I got no less than a dozen random texts a week from one of them, letting me know about some ridiculous news story they’d heard about.
No, Edna, I didn’t know that Tom Cruise had an alien baby with a woman he met in Mexico.
Grammy and what I liked to affectionately call the ‘Granny Squad’ lived in an assisted living facility about 15 minutes from me. It was set up like an apartment building, where they had the freedom to come and go, with the added bonus of a 24-hour nursing staff and van service.
Edna’s mention of Grammy’s hip fracture and concussion six months ago made me wince. She wasn’t close to death, as her friend had exaggerated, but it had brought with it so much fear and other emotions I was still trying to decipher. The thought of losing her was unbearable.
She was still living alone in her home near me in San Diego when I got the call from a neighbor who had come by for their daily coffee and Bible study. I had prayed nonstop that God would intervene as I raced to the hospital that day. Seeing her lying in that bed, looking so frail, had devastated me. My parents were in Kenya, in a remote village with no internet or cell service, so I held her hand through it all. It was the least I could do for everything she’d done for me.
I grew up in Milwaukee, but moved to San Diego for college. Grammy had moved here before I graduated high school to be near her sister, but unfortunately,shortly after, her sister passed away. Once that happened, I decided to plant roots in the city I had already fallen in love with to be near her. Before the fall,she lived a mile and a half away in a tiny Mission Valley cottage-stylehouse.
After the accident, Grammy went kicking and screaming to the assisted living facility, but once she made friends, to my relief, she decided to stay. And that’s how the Granny Squad was born.
Crouching down next to her chair, I took her by the hand. “Tell me how you are for real. Not the usual ‘fine’ you say every time I call or visit.”
“Mikey, you worry about me too much,” she said, as always, and patted my cheek. “You’re such a good man. When are you going to find a wife, settle down, and give me some great-grandbabies? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I keep telling you I haven’t found a woman who will put up with me yet.”
“Nonsense,” she answered, shaking her head. “You’re handsome, intelligent, funny. What’s not to like?”
“Yeah, but he is getting kinda squidgy around the middle,” Edna said with a smirk.
Standing up and rubbing Grammy’s shoulder, I frowned and answered, “You’re not my favorite anymore, Ms. Edna.”
“Pfft, all I have to do is make you my famous double chocolate brownies, and I’ll regain my title easily,” she said saucily.
“You mean those burnt offerings you call baked goods?” Gemma mumbled. Her signature fiery red lipstick only made her smug look more pronounced. I usually ended up with more of it on my cheeks than she had on her lips.
I pinched my lips together because Gemma was right. I’d eaten my body weight in those burnt offerings over the last twelve months, which was why I had to step up my surf sessions.
