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That warm, dark chocolate voice of his should be illegal.
“Stay in the car, Rufus, boy. Come on, Savannah, let’s go find our pal.”
Colleen didn’t waste any time getting up to Dialysis, and there he was, looking small in the uncomfortable chair in the waiting room. He was sleeping. He must’ve looked a lot like Lucas’s father, because she could see the resemblance to Lucas, the strong jaw and straight nose. Bryce and Lucas could’ve passed for brothers themselves.
She went over and knelt next to him. “Hey there, handsome,” she said softly, winking at Savannah, who looked a little worried. Joe opened his eyes, momentarily confused. “Did someone call an escort service?”
“Colleen,” he said, smiling. “It must be my lucky day. And who’s this beautiful girl?”
“This is my sister, Savannah,” she said. “Savannah, meet Smiling Joe Campbell, the nicest guy in the world.”
“Hi,” she said.
Ten minutes later, they were helping Joe into his front door, Rufus trotting around the house to sniff the good spots. She’d left a message for Bryce, but hadn’t gotten a call back.
“Can you handle the stairs?” she asked, as Joe had struggled in just from the car.
“My room’s off the kitchen,” he said.
Lucas’s old room.
Colleen peeked in. Not a lot of memories here, as they’d always gone to her house whenever possible (or the backseat of her car, or the no-tell motel in Rutledge). But she’d been in here, of course. And it was still basically a big closet. No window.
This house was frickin’ huge. Living room, family room, den, sunroom, kitchen, dining room, laundry room, and that was just on the first floor.
And Joe was in a storage room where his nephew had once been banished.
“Let’s get you settled on the couch,” she said, taking Joe’s arm. “There’s a gorgeous breeze today, and this room’s a little stuffy.”
“Sounds good,” Joe said, his voice weak.
They helped him into the living room, which was stiff and formal. Chintz fabric everywhere, like a giant Laura Ashley explosion. Savannah thoughtfully got a pillow and a blanket, and Rufus, who was an archangel in disguise, sat next to the couch like a guardian.
“I always thought it’d be nice to have a dog,” Joe said, petting Rufus. Within seconds, he was asleep.
“He sleeps in a closet?” Savannah whispered as they went into the kitchen.
“I know,” Colleen said. “His wife is a big poopyhead.”
“We should make him a cozy spot,” Savannah offered. “I’m good at that.”
Colleen paused. “Let’s do it,” she said. “Cozy spot commencing.”
An hour later, the sunroom was transformed. A multicolored sign hung over the doorway...Joe’s Cozy Spot, courtesy of Savannah taping five pieces of paper together and discovering a stash of Magic Markers in a kitchen drawer.
“Looks great,” Paulie said, lying on the hospital bed. She closed her eyes. “Very comfy.” Rufus nudged her shoulder with his nose, hoping to climb on, and Paulie smiled.
Because yes, the troops had been called in. Colleen needed help moving furniture, and she needed it fast. She was afraid Didi the Poopyhead would come home and have a fit, which Colleen guessed she was entitled to do, being that this was her house and all.
But it was Joe’s house, too. The man was dying, and it was absolutely ridiculous that he was crammed into that sad, dark little room.
It’d be nice, too, having Paulie do something nice for Bryce’s father. She’d been here five minutes after Colleen made the call. They’d moved the coffee table and two big comfy chairs into the storage room and brought out the hospital bed. There was still a couch and chair, and the big TV, and best of all, the view of the pretty yard, of trees and sky and birds and whatever wildlife might wander in.
Much better than four walls.
Savannah had wandered the house like a little thief, lifting whatever she thought might brighten Joe’s spirits—a picture of him and Bryce from years ago, a Yankees sign from Bryce’s apartment downstairs, some throw pillows from one of the empty bedrooms, a blue glass sun catcher from the dining room.
“Who’s this?” the girl asked now, coming back in with another framed photo. “Is that Joe?”
