Page 11 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer (Goose Run #1)

MILLER

T he Sunny Fields Assisted Living Community in Brodnax was a depressing reminder of why I never wanted to go into probate law.

It was pleasant and well-kept and clearly miles better than some of the old people’s homes I’d heard about, but something about the carpeted hallways, the poster board with the weekly group activities in reception, and the faint smell of Bengay and green apple disinfectant made me want to hightail it out of there.

Danny must have caught my expression because he winked and said, “Not your speed, counselor?”

“No, not really.” Although honestly, there was nothing not to like. I just hated to be reminded that one day in the distant future it might be me shuffling along these hallways. What was it they called that? The arrogance of youth?

Danny seemed as cheerful as always as we walked through the place, smiling and saying hello to the people we passed. Even to the old guy who ran over his foot in a wheelchair. “Mr. Wilson, how are things going?”

“In my day, we used to take our hats off inside,” the old man grumbled.

Danny just laughed and tugged his cap off. “Thanks for the reminder. I’d forgotten I was wearing it.”

He tugged his foot back before Mr. Wilson could reverse.

“The problem with young people today is they got no respect!” Mr. Wilson exclaimed.

Before Danny could reply, a door opened farther down the hallway, and a woman called, “Barney Wilson, are you harassing my grandson just because I whipped your ass at poker last night?”

“I’m out twenty bucks and you’re a shark,” Mr. Wilson called back and rolled down the hallway muttering to himself.

Danny’s face lit up as the woman stepped into the hallway, and she took several rapid strides and pulled him into a bear hug.

She didn’t look how I’d expected a resident of this place to look.

I’d seen greeters at Walmart who were older and more frail than this woman.

She must have been in her early seventies, but she could have passed for a decade younger.

She was short, plump, and had red hair so vibrant it could only have come out of a bottle of dye.

She was wearing jeans and a faded Jefferson Starship T-shirt and had tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of her shirt.

I saw echoes of Danny when she smiled, and I liked her immediately.

She let go of Danny and turned to me, raising one eyebrow and looking me up and down, not hiding her interest. “Who’s your friend, Danny?”

“Remember I said we were having problems with Harlan and I was bringing a lawyer to talk about it?” Danny said.

“Of course I remember. I meant what’s his name ,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“This is Miller,” Danny said.

I extended a hand. “Miller Clarke. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she asked, and apparently the glint in Danny’s eye was hereditary. “I’m Mary Hall, but you can call me Jane. Everyone does.”

“Uh, Mary Jane?” I asked.

She laughed and pointed at her shirt. “No, honey, it’s from a song.” Then she winked. “Although Mary Jane works too.”

“Jesus, Grandma,” Danny said, but he was smiling. He caught my gaze. “It’s a Jefferson Starship song, and it’s her favorite.”

“Your grandfather used to play it on his 8-track,” she added. “We’d drive all around town with it just blasting out of the speakers.”

Definitely not the elderly grandmother I’d been expecting.

She looked me up and down again and said, “So, how does a woman like me get a handsome young thing like you into her rooms?”

“ Grandma ,” Danny said, but he was openly laughing now.

“To talk business is all I meant,” she said, and there it was again, that gleam in her eye that matched the one in her grandson’s the other night when he’d told me I could do whatever the fuck I wanted with him…

and now was not the time to be thinking about that.

I shifted from foot to foot and reminded myself sternly that I was working.

Jane led the way to her rooms, and again, they were nothing like I was expecting.

Instead of a small, dull room, Jane lived in a bright, self-contained apartment.

The walls of the living room were painted a cheerful soft yellow and there was a colorful print hanging above the couch that I was pretty sure was a Frida Kahlo.

The couch itself was a deep navy and looked comfy enough that you could sink into it for days.

There wasn’t a lace doily in sight, but there was a bottle of gin and a cocktail shaker on the counter of her small kitchenette, a bunch of poker chips scattered across the small dining table, and a hint of a certain herbal aroma hanging in the air.

The apartment, and the woman, were nothing like I’d been imagining.

Jane sat down at the small dining table and patted the seat next to her. “Come sit down, Miller, and tell me why I need a lawyer. Danny has power of attorney, but I’m guessing this isn’t something he can deal with on his own.”

“Well, it’s not that he can’t,” I said, “but I’d prefer to make sure you’re on the same page.

And I’m guessing that power of attorney is designed to come into effect if you’re unable to make decisions on your own behalf.

Which”—I took another look around the room—“seems to me like it’s not an issue. ”

“Danny, sweetheart, go make us some coffee.” Jane laughed. “Are you wondering why I’m living here with all these old fuddy duddies?”

“That crossed my mind, yes.”

“Well, firstly, they’re not all like Barney Wilson,” she said. “There’s a fellow over in the east wing who’s still got his original hips and teeth, and I’ve got my eye on him!”

“Grandma!”

Jane laughed. “Honestly? I like living here. I don’t have to drive to get to the stores, and there’s a cafeteria right here on site, and a swimming pool that’s heated in the winter.

Some of my friends had already moved here too.

It’s like living on a cruise ship, except you don’t get seasick and there’s no godawful karaoke every night. ”

“Just on Wednesdays,” Danny called from the kitchenette.

“The girls and I go out bar hopping on Wednesdays,” Jane confirmed. “There’s a bus that collects us at eleven.” She leaned closer to me and said in an undertone, “Besides, the boys needed some independence. I’m only a phone call away, though.”

The boys?

“Danny is your only grandson, though, right?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Just Danny and his older sister, Emma-Lee. She’s a nurse in Richmond. The other boys are my bonus grandsons. Oh, speaking of!” She turned in her seat. “What’s happened to the hot water system?”

Danny froze in place. “Why?” he said cautiously.

“Because I thought my luck had changed yesterday when I walked into my bathroom and there was a naked young man in my shower, but it was only Cash. He jumped like a scalded cat!” She raised her eyebrows.

“After I’d peeled him off the ceiling, I asked why he was using my shower, and he said there was some issue with the hot water at the house. ”

“No, he didn’t.”

Jane sighed. “Fine. He said, ‘Hot water’s fucked,’ if you want to be completely accurate. And I knew I wouldn’t get more out of him than that, because it’s Cash.”

Danny came over and set down a tray with a coffee pot and three mugs and sat down, propping his elbows on the table.

“I’ll get it fixed. I’m just waiting for payday is all.

” Danny’s brow creased and he eyed Jane.

“You didn’t say anything about Cash showering here, did you? I don’t want him to get into trouble.”

“What do you take me for? I’m no snitch. Not when it’s one of my boys.” She rapped her knuckles against the table. “I’ll call a plumber today.”

“Grandma, I got it,” Danny said. “Wilder’s Uncle Steve is gonna come have a look on the weekend.”

“Steve the roofer?” Jane asked. “What the hell does he know about hot water systems?”

“He knows stuff, and if he doesn’t, he’ll know a guy.”

“I know a guy too, honey. He’s called a plumber. And where are the rest of you showering in the meantime?”

“It’s summer. Cold is fine.”

Jane raised her eyebrows. “And what about when Grace comes to stay? Tell me that sweet little girl’s not making do with a washcloth.”

I shifted in my seat, an unwilling spectator to this family argument, as well-intentioned as it was.

Danny didn’t say anything, and Jane nodded to herself. “I’ll send the plumber.”

Danny sighed. “Can you afford that?”

“Better than you can,” Jane said. “And anyway, you and Wilder save me plenty with the repairs that he can do around the place, but remember what we agreed?”

“If there’s water or electricity involved, we hire a professional,” Danny recited in the weary tones of someone who’d said a thing a thousand times before.

“Exactly,” Jane said.

She caught my confused expression and said, “My husband was a fine man, God rest his soul, and he was good at a lot of things, but home repairs wasn’t one of them. I made the rule after I had enough of his nonsense.”

It was strange. One thing I hated about small-town law was the way people just talked .

I was their lawyer, not their friend. But Jane was so warm and cheerful that not only did I not care about how we hadn’t gotten anywhere even close to the point yet, I actually wanted to know more.

What home improvement disasters had her husband screwed up so royally that she’d had to institute that rule?

Had he almost fried his family, or flooded them?

And why, in every scenario that I imagined, did he look a lot like Marty O’Brien?

“Now,” Jane said, pouring a coffee and sliding it in front of me, “tell me what Harlan’s done and what you’re going to do to fix it.”

It was Danny who said, “It’s the tree out front.” He swallowed. “He’s cut it down.”

“He what ?” Any trace of Jane’s good humor vanished. “That asshole!”

“Apparently, Mr. Whittaker took matters into his own hands, along with a chainsaw,” I said. “He felled the tree before anyone could stop him. I’m sorry.”