Page 24

CHAPTER TWENTY

brOOKS

P ulling into the parking lot of Sunnybrook Assisted Living, I killed the engine and glanced at Harlow.

“This is not what I expected.” She leaned forward in her seat and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.

I laughed. “They have a farmers’ market every weekend. It’s an ongoing joke with Marty, he thinks I only come for the pies.”

“How is he doing?”

“Slowing down, but personality-wise, he’s as spunky as ever.”

She’s only been back for a couple of weeks, and I was already getting used to having her around. Marty, on the other hand, had probably been waiting for this moment forever.

“Ready?” I asked, grabbing the umbrella from the back in case it started raining again, and stepped out of my truck.

She nodded while watching the two old ladies bickering over who had the best hand-knitted blankets.

We stepped up to the courtyard, which had been transformed into a bustling market. The folding tables were covered with baked goods, crafts, a few CBD oils, and homemade pot gummies.

“Oh, my God. That lady has a cannabis stand.”

“Yep, and Ms. Romano sells out fast, so if you’re looking for any oils or creams, you better hurry over there.”

She laughed. “Is it always like this?”

We weaved through the crowd as a man in a wheelchair whizzed past us, holding a big jar of raspberry jam.

“These residents can get a little wild. Last month, a fight broke out during bingo. Mr. Spears accused Pastor Daniel of cheating.”

She snorted. “Who won?”

“I think it was Pastor Daniel. He used to be a marine. Pretty sure he could kick my ass if he wanted to.”

We made our way through all the baked goods and knitwear until we reached the end of the sidewalk. Marty’s stand was on the corner. His table was stacked with wooden frames, wall shelves, and miscellaneous engraved items.

When he looked up and saw the beautiful woman at my side, his entire face lit up.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Harlow Bennett. Get over here and give an old man a hug, will ya?”

She laughed as he tossed the newspaper aside. He wrapped her in a tight hug. “Hey, Marty, you haven’t changed a bit.”

He held her out at arm’s length. His eyes filled with warmth. He was clearly happy to see her. “You look the same, only prettier.”

Harlow blushed. My grandfather was on a roll. “You’re looking great, Marty.”

He puffed his chest out. “I know, right? Not too shabby for an old guy, huh?”

I shook my head and clasped him on the shoulder. “How are you doing, Grandpa?”

He knocked my hand away and scowled beneath his white mustache. “I told you not to call me that in public.”

Harlow inspected the table and picked up one of the wooden frames. “Did you make all these?”

“Damn right, I did. You want that one, sweetie, you can have it.”

Harlow ran her fingers over the frame. “Thank you, but I insist on paying you.” He waved his hands in the air. “You will do no such thing. You are about to become family. Think of it as an engagement present.”

I leaned back on my heels. I should have known we couldn’t surprise him. “Who told you?”

“I have connections everywhere.” He grabbed Harlow’s hand to see the ring better.

“You really thought you could keep that kind of scoop under wraps? This town isn’t that big.

News travels fast. Especially good news.

” He winked. My grandfather was clearly happy about the news.

It made me feel slightly guilty for lying to him, but then I remembered that was the plan.

“We were hoping to surprise you, that’s all.” Harlow beamed up at me.

“So, what in the world made you decide to come back and marry my idiot grandson? I thought you had more sense than that.”

I groaned. “We talked about this, remember? You promised to be on your best behavior.”

Marty squinted his eyes. “You talked, and I pretended to listen.”

Harlow smiled warmly. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“That’s what keeps me young.” He settled back in his chair. “So, tell me about the wedding.”

I threw an arm around her shoulder. “We haven’t set a date yet.”

“Why the hell not?”

I scrubbed a hand down my face. “We are working on it, okay? And when we settle on something. You’ll be the first to know.”

“Make sure you do. I’ve had some of the ladies in the cafeteria asking me when the wedding is. They are all fighting over who I’ll take as my date. Unless you can give me a plus two or three?”

Guess we knew where Hayes got his rep from. I shook my head as he and Harlow got caught up.

While they talked, I took a few minutes to study him. His sense of humor was still intact, but his energy level wasn’t there today. He’s always been a tough old man who insisted on doing everything himself, especially when he shouldn’t.

I watched him sink into his chair and noticed he seemed more tired than usual.

His skin was pale, and the lines on his weathered face were more pronounced.

I also noticed his hands were shaking more than the last time.

It was hard to believe this was the same man who taught me how to build a shed in the backyard, work with my hands, and be a man.

He looked up when he caught me staring. “What?”

I crossed my arms. “You seem tired.”

“And you look like a man who doesn’t know how to use a damn razor.”

Instead of coming up with a snappy retort, I changed the subject, sensing he wasn’t in the mood to talk about his illness. Harlow, being Harlow, picked up on it. I could see the question and curiosity in her eyes. I gave her a subtle shake of my head, telling her I would explain later.

My grandfather didn’t like talking about anything too serious.

He didn’t want people fussing over him. I let him guide the conversation away from what was really going on with him.

Even when he tried his best to act like everything was okay, I could tell he was fighting like hell to keep his energy up.

We sat and talked for the next thirty minutes. A handful of customers stopped by Marty’s stand, so Harlow and I excused ourselves to browse the market.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with him?” she asked, picking up a scented candle and bringing it to her nose.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked up at the gray sky. It looked like the rain would start back up again soon. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

After grabbing a coffee and a box of cinnamon rolls, we stepped up to Betty Sherman’s table. She and my grandfather went at it on a daily basis. The rumor going around was that she used to be a con artist, swindling old men out of their money. Marty never trusted her.

Harlow picked up a knitted scarf. “This is so pretty. How much is this?”

Betty beamed. “Well, you're in luck, sweetheart. That piece is on sale for twenty-five dollars.”

I scoffed. “Betty, I’ve seen you sell those for ten.”

Hell, she even tried to give me one for free one time.

She shrugged. “Supply and demand, kid. Your girl here has good taste.”

Harlow reached into her purse, but I beat her to it. I handed Betty thirty bucks. “Keep the change.”

“You are such a sweet boy.” She stuffed the money into her fanny pouch with a satisfied grin.

Marty came over and sidled up next to Harlow. “You’re not over here scamming my future granddaughter, now are you, Betty?”

“Oh, Marty, don’t be ridiculous. I only had to charge a little bit extra because of inflation. My yarn costs me almost a whole dollar more.”

Marty pulled on his suspenders. “Inflation, my foot. You’ve been swindling people since Gerald Ford was president.”

Betty gave him a smile that didn’t even come close to looking sweet. Then she pulled out a wad of bills and started fanning her face with them. “That scarf took me hours to make. You don’t expect me to give my stuff away for free, do you?”

“Your stuff is garbage. I wouldn’t pay more than five bucks.”

She huffed. “You have horrible taste. Don’t you ever wonder why no one wants the ugly crap you try to sell?”

“All right, you two.” I settled my hand on Marty’s shoulder and started steering him away from Betty’s table. “I think we should start moving on down the line. There is an apple pie calling my name.”

Marty wagged his wrinkled finger at Betty one last time. “I’m watching you.”

As we walked away, Harlow dropped her scarf around her neck. “That was entertaining.”

Marty grinned. “Stick with me, darlin’. This place is better than Netflix. Why don’t we head inside? I need to take my meds.”

Marty’s voice sounded tired despite the brave front he was putting on.

We made our way down the hall, past bulletin boards filled with the week’s events. I opened Marty’s door, letting him shuffle in first, then stepped to the side for Harlow.

Marty’s space was simple. It had a bed, two small recliners, a TV that only seemed to play game shows and the news, and a small kitchenette. The walls were covered in photos.

Harlow hesitated for a second before settling into the chair next to my grandfather. I stood by the window with my hands shoved in my pockets.

He took his meds and kicked the stand out on the recliner to get comfortable.

He sighed and looked between the two of us. “It took you both long enough.”

I looked at Harlow and smirked. “I had to make sure she wasn’t going to run off this time.”

She smiled but there was nothing sweet about it. “And I needed to give you enough time to grow a brain.”

He grabbed the blanket off the back and laid it along his legs. He grinned up at Harlow. “I always liked you, you know.”

Harlow laughed. “I always liked you, too.”

Marty faced her. “I’m just glad you decided to come back before I ended up in the grave.”

“Hey,” I said. “Let’s not go there, okay?”

My grandpa leaned his head against the recliner. I saw Harlow watch him. I could tell she was just noticing how thin and weak he was.

He closed his eyes briefly. “You never want to talk about it, Brooks. You want to keep pretending that I’m not sick. My time on this earth is coming to an end, and no amount of avoiding it is going to change that.”

She turned to me, eyes narrowing slightly. “What is he talking about?”

Grandpa cracked an eye open. “You haven’t told her?”

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, feeling like a total ass. “I was planning on it.”

Harlow’s gaze bounced between us. “Tell me what?”

He sighed. “I have cancer.”

I clenched my jaw and swallowed down the lump in my throat. I hated that word. Hearing it always hit me hard.

Harlow’s back stiffened. Her eyes filled with worry. You could tell she was trying to hide how much that news upset her. “What kind of cancer?”

“Lung cancer,” he answered before I could.

She blinked rapidly. “How bad is it?”

“Stage four.” His voice was softer now.

Her lips parted as she sat there staring at him. “I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“Because I didn’t want you to find out like this,” I told her, shooting my grandpa a glare.

For the first time since we got here, there were no jokes or teasing—just cold, hard truths.

He ran a hand over his knee. “I hope I live long enough to see the two of you get married.”

I looked away, but I could feel her staring at me from the corner of my eye. Harlow was smart as a whip. She was no doubt connecting the dots. Did she realize that was one of the reasons why I asked her to marry me?

She knew how much I looked up to him. It was no secret that I would do anything to make him happy. Even making sure we got engaged before he died.

“Are they doing anything to treat the cancer?” she asked, adjusting the blanket over his body.

He gripped the arms of his chair. “The treatments are rough. Worse than I thought they would be. Being hooked up to those machines only makes me feel worse.”

I forced a breath through my nose. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling good?”

He leaned forward. “Because I know you don’t want to hear it, and I don’t want my family worrying about me. I’m fighting, doing the best I can. I don’t want to be treated any differently.”

Harlow leaned over and rested her hand on his arm. “You need to keep fighting. You have a wedding to go to.”

His eyes were misty as he stared at her. “I’m going to do my best to be there.”

Harlow swallowed tightly; I could tell she was fighting back emotion. “You better be there, because we are saving you a front row seat.”

The affection between them was as clear as day. He held her hand like he didn’t want to let go. “You remind me of my wife.”

She smiled. “That’s quite the compliment. I heard so much about her. I wish I had the chance to meet her.”

My grandma passed away when I was ten. I don’t remember much about her other than she was just as stubborn as he was.

I sat back and watched them. The way she leaned in and made him laugh, and the way he looked at her like she was already family. Something stirred in my chest.

I needed the wedding to happen before he died.

Not just for him, but for me, too.

She was it for me. She always had been.

My only problem would be convincing her to stay this time.