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“You and Alice are great.” That’s an understatement, if I’m honest. But if I say anything more than that, I might become too emotional. This isn’t something people offer lightly. “Thank you.”
“What time will you two be at my house?”
“Eight sounds good?”
“Great.”
“You still have time to choose between sword and bow and arrow until then,” Max says.
“I’m sticking to my shield.”
When I click off, heading back inside the clinic, my smile feels dopey even to me.
***
I’m in a frenzy from the moment I arrive home. Preparing for my outing with Max is just one part; the other is preparing Grams for spending the evening with someone she doesn’t know. Yeah, she knew Alice well as a kid, but I have no idea if she’ll connect the dots when she sees her as an adult. Grams seemed to be her old self when I entered the house, which lifted my mood, right until she asked if there’s any news about my father. I told her Max is helping us find him, and now I’m worried that she’ll get her hopes up.
Ten minutes before Alice and Max are supposed to arrive, Grams becomes absent again, lost in her own world. By the time I hear a knock at the front door, I’ve worked myself into a ball of stress.
“Jonesie!” Alice exclaims when she sees me. I survey her from head to toe. She doesn’t look even remotely like the girl I remember. She has a mix of romantic elegance and tomboyish charm that is unique to her. She’s wearing a knee-length navy blue dress, while earrings in the form of the sun and the moon hang on her ears. Her dark brown hair is almost waist-long. I can’t quite point out the tomboyish part. Maybe it’s her smile, which resembles Max’s almost to perfection. The man in question hovers behind her, looking up to no good.
“So nice to see you again, Alice. What did you bring?” I point to the bag in her hand.
“I brought some ingredients for Grams’s famous banana pie. Thought I could ask her to show me how it’s done. Tried it a million times, the cook at my restaurant a trillion times, but the one Grams used to make is still the best. I read up today that people with Alzheimer’s feel more at ease around strangers if they do something familiar together. I didn’t think Grams would recognize—”
I hug her, cutting her off midsentence. “You are lovely. Thank you.”
“For the love of all that is holy, Jonesie! I’m a hugger, but don’t strangle me.”
“Sorry.” I pull back, grinning at her. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
“Hey, once an adopted Bennett, always an adopted Bennett,” she says, referring to the old moniker the family gave me because I was at their place so often. “Even though you technically cease to be one if you get down and dirty with one of us.”
“Alice!” Max admonishes.
“What?” She shrugs. “Not saying anything you two don’t know.”
I blush furiously as both of them step inside the house.
“Ignore her if she annoys you,” Max whispers to me, smiling. “That’s what I do.”
“I heard you,” Alice says, striding inside the living room without looking back. Ah, how I love the banter between siblings.
It takes almost half an hour to explain to Grams that Alice will be watching her.
“Grams, you can show her how to do your famous pie,” I say for the twelfth time. The information seems to finally get through to her, and she walks with Alice to the kitchen.
“We don’t have to go if you’re not comfortable leaving Grams with Alice,” Max tells me, sneaking up behind me.
“It’s okay, they’ll do great. Sorry it took so long.”
“Hey, from where I was standing, I had a great vantage point directly to this.” He pinches my ass, kissing my temple. His way of lightening up the mood. “I like seeing this nurturing side of you with your grandmother. It’s sweet.”
Sighing, I listen intently to Grams and Alice in the kitchen. They seem to be happily working together. As patient as Max was this evening, I’m afraid all this is going to wear on him eventually… that he’ll throw in the towel and choose someone who has less responsibilities. My fiancé, Paul, seemed to be holding up with everything just fine, until he bailed. Damn it. It appears that getting rid of the wedding dress didn’t do away with my insecurities.
“What are you thinking?” he asks the second we leave t
he house.
