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Wind whistled into the big black van, whipping Tanner Richards’ hair across his forehead as he drove. Squinting at the gravel road through the brown strands drifting over his eyes, he hauled in a deep breath of pine-scented air. Five years ago he’d agonized over his decision to sell his accounting firm and move to Crystal Falls, Oregon. He’d given up a six-figure annual income with no assurance that he could even find a job in this area. Crazy, really. Looking back on it now, though, he was glad that he’d come. Being a deliveryman wasn’t as prestigious as working in his former chosen profession, but he made enough money to provide a good life for his kids, and he truly enjoyed the occupation. Having a rural route suited him. He was required to make fewer stops than he would have been in town, which equated to shorter workdays and more time in the evening to be with his children. And he’d made a lot of friends. Folks around here were more congenial than they were in larger towns.
As he rounded a curve in the country road, Tanner saw Tuck Malloy’s house. Sadness punched into him. For three years running, he’d often stopped there to visit at the end of his workday, and he’d enjoyed a lot of cold ones on the porch with his elderly friend. Now the windows reflected the darkness of an empty structure. A For Sale sign rode high on the front gate. It had appeared nearly a month ago.
Tanner had considered calling the Realtor to learn what had happened to the property owner after his calls to Tuck went unanswered, but he really didn’t want to know. Tuck had been a crusty old codger and eighty years young, as he’d been fond of saying. Unexpected things could happen to people that age. A heart attack, maybe, or a stroke. Tuck liked that piece of ground, and he would never have left voluntarily. He’d said so more than once. Tanner figured the old fellow was dead. Otherwise why would his place be up for sale?
Tanner pulled over and stopped outside the hurricane fence for a moment, a habit he had developed since the home had been vacated. He trailed his gaze over the front porch, now devoid of the comfortable Adirondack chairs where he had once sat with Tuck to chat. Recalling the old man’s recalcitrant dog, he smiled. Rip. Tanner hoped the blue heeler had found a good home. He’d been a handful and was probably difficult to place.
Damn, he missed them both. With a sigh Tanner eased the van back onto the road. He had only one more delivery before he could call it a day. Maybe he could mow the lawn and do some weeding before his kids got home. Tori, now eight, had dance class after school today, and Michael, eleven and getting gangly, had baseball practice. Since his wife’s death, Tanner had been a single dad, and not a day went by that he wasn’t grateful for his mom’s help. She got his kids off to the bus stop each morning and chauffeured them to most of their activities, which took a huge load of responsibility off his shoulders.
Tanner delivered the last parcel of the day. After he dropped the van off at Courier Express, he needed to pick up some groceries. Milk, for one thing. Tori wouldn’t eat breakfast without it. And if he didn’t get bread, he’d have no fixings for his lunch tomorrow.
His cell phone, which rode atop a sticky mat on the dash, chimed with a message notification. Tanner grabbed the device and glanced at the screen to make sure the text wasn’t from his mother. She never contacted him during work hours unless it was urgent. When he read the name of the sender, his hand froze on the steering wheel. Tuck Malloy? He almost went off the road into a ditch. How could that be? The old coot was dead. Wasn’t he?
Tanner pulled over onto a wide spot, shifted into PARK, and stared at his phone. The message was definitely from Tuck. They had exchanged cell numbers months ago, and Tuck had occasionally texted to ask Tanner to pick up items he needed from the store. It hadn’t been a bother for Tanner. There was a mom-and-pop grocery not that far away, and Tuck’s house was on the road he always took back to town.
He swiped the screen. A smile curved his lips as he read the message. “I fell off the damned porch. Busted my arm, some ribs, and had to get a hip replacement. Now I’m doing time in assisted living, and the bitch that runs the place won’t let me have my beer or chew. Can you buy me some of both and sneak it in to me? I’ll pay you back . ”
Tanner had been picturing the old fart in heaven, sitting on an Adirondack chair with a six-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a spittoon within easy reach. It was unsettling to think someone was dead and then receive a text from him.
He tapped out a response. “I don’t mind bringing you things. My kids have activities this afternoon, so I’m not pressed for time. But I don’t want to get in trouble for delivering forbidden substances . My job could be on the line.”
Tuck replied, “No trouble. Just put it inside a box and pretend it’s something I ordered. If I get caught, I’ll never tell who brought me the stuff . Sorry I can’t just call, but these nurses have sharp ears and I got no privacy.”
Tanner grinned. He trusted the old man not to reveal his name if it came down to that. And he truly did sympathize with Tuck’s feelings of deprivation. Just because a man was eighty shouldn’t mean he no longer had a right to indulge his habits. Staying at an assisted living facility was costly, and in Tanner’s estimation, the residents should be able to do whatever they liked in their apartments as long as their physicians didn’t object.
He texted, “Do you have your doctor’s permission to drink and chew?”
Tuck replied, “Well, he ain’t said I shouldn’t. I been drinking and chewing my whole life. I’m eighty. What can he say, that my pleasures might kill me?”
Tanner chuckled. He agreed to deliver the requested items and asked Tuck for the address. He was surprised to learn the facility was in Mystic Creek. Tanner didn’t cover that area, and it was a thirty-minute drive to get there. He mulled over the fact that he would be driving for more than an hour round-trip in a Courier Express van to run a personal errand. He’d also be using company fuel, which didn’t seem right, but he supposed he could top off the tank to make up for that. He could also adjust his time sheet so he wouldn’t be paid for an hour he hadn’t actually worked.
Whistling tunelessly, Tanner made the drive to Mystic Creek. He hadn’t yet gotten over this way. The curvy two-lane highway offered beautiful scenery, tree-covered mountain peaks, craggy buttes, and silvery flashes of a river beyond the stands of ponderosa pine. To his surprise, he saw a turnoff to Crystal Falls—the actual waterfall, not the town—and he made a mental note to bring the kids up sometime to see it. They’d get a kick out of that. Maybe they could spread a blanket on the riverbank and have a picnic.
Once in Mystic Creek, a quaint and well-kept little town, he found a grocery store on East Main called Flagg’s Market, where he purchased two six-packs of beer and a whole roll of Copenhagen for his elderly friend. In the van he always carried extra box flats. He assembled a medium-size one, stuck what he now thought of as the contraband into it, and taped the flaps closed. With a ballpoint pen, he wrote Tuck’s full name, the address, and the apartment number on a Courier Express mailing slip, which he affixed to the cardboard. Done. Now he’d just drive to the facility and make the delivery. The rest would be up to Tuck.
Mystic Creek Retirement Living was in a large brick building with two wings that angled out toward the front parking lot. The back of the facility bordered Mystic Creek, which bubbled and chattered cheerfully between banks lined with greenery, weeping willows, and pines. He suspected the residents spent a lot of time on the rear lawns, enjoying the sounds of rushing water and birdsong. If he were living there, that’s what he would do.
Striding across the parking area with the box in his arms, Tanner began to feel nervous. What if someone questioned him? Pausing outside the double glass doors, he took a calming breath and then pushed inside. A middle-aged woman with red hair sat at the front desk. She fixed her friendly-looking blue gaze on Tanner’s face and smiled.
“You’re new,” she observed. “Brian usually delivers our Courier Express packages.”
Tanner nodded. “Uh, yeah. Just helping out today. I’ve got a package for Tucker Malloy, apartment twenty-three.”
She pointed to a wide hallway to the left of the counter. “About halfway down on the right.”
Tanner circled her workstation and moved past her. When he reached Tuck’s room, he knocked on the door and called, “Delivery. Courier Express.”
He heard a shuffling sound, and seconds later, Tuck opened the door, flashing a broad grin. “Come in, come in,” he said in a booming voice. “Must be those shoes and pants I ordered.”
Tanner winked at his old friend as he made his way through the doorway. As he set the box on the living room floor, he noticed that Tuck held a walking cane in his left hand. After closing the door, he walked with a limp as he crossed the tiny kitchen. Tanner guessed the old fellow’s hip still pained him. Otherwise he looked the same, tall and lean with slightly stooped shoulders. His blue eyes held the same merry twinkle. Deep smile creases bracketed his mouth. His hair, still thick, was mostly silver, but a few streaks of brown remained to indicate its original color.
“It’s good to see you,” Tanner told him. “When your place went up for sale, I tried to call you several times and left you voice mails. Then I couldn’t get through anymore. I figured you’d passed away and your phone had been retired to a drawer.”
“Hell, no. I’m too ornery to kick the bucket just yet. Not to say it’s an outlandish thing for you to think. At eighty, I don’t buy green bananas anymore. They’re a risky investment.”
Tanner laughed. Tuck bent to open the box, plucked a can of beer from one six-pack yoke, and offered it up. With regret, Tanner declined. “I can’t stay, Tuck. My kids will be getting home in a couple of hours.”
Tuck straightened slowly, as if stiffness had settled into his spine. On his right arm he wore a red elbow-high cast that extended down over the back of his hand to his knuckles and encircled his thumb. “That’s a shame. I miss our bullshit sessions.”
“Me, too,” Tanner confessed. “I’ll try to come back for a visit when I have more time.” He bent to lift the six-packs from the box. “Where you planning to hide these?”
“In my boots and coat pockets. My beer’ll be warm, but that’s better’n nothin’.”
Tanner carried the twelve-ounce containers to the closet, opened the doors, and began slipping cans into the old man’s footwear. Tuck hobbled in with the roll of Copenhagen, which Tanner broke open before stuffing the rounds into shirt and jacket pockets. He couldn’t help but grin when everything was hidden. With a wink at Tuck, he whispered, “They’ll never know.”
“Damn, I hope not,” Tuck said. “My Pabst Blue Ribbon helps me relax at night. Without it I toss and turn. When I complain, the damned administrator just scowls at me and says to ask my doctor for sleeping pills. Like that’d be any better for my health? Hell, no. I like my beer.”
Tanner stared at him. “What are you going to do with the empties?”
Tuck winked. “They got a resident laundry room down the hall with two tall trash cans. I’ll sneak ’em down there and bury ’em real deep under other garbage.”
“I see no harm in you enjoying your beer of an evening unless your doctor has forbidden it,” Tanner said. “You’d tell me if that were the case. Right?”
“Wouldn’t have asked you if he had. I don’t have a death wish. I just want my damn beers and chew. The doc knows I have three beers a night and he never said nothin’. Of course, it’s a different fella here. Their Dr. Fancy Pants might not make allowances for a man’s personal pleasures.”
“That sucks.” Tanner had never stopped to consider how many liberties people could lose when they grew old. “But it’s temporary. Right? Once you’ve healed, you can live somewhere else again.” Tanner remembered the real estate sign on Tuck’s front gate. “You do get to leave here, I hope.”
“The doctors are sayin’ that I shouldn’t live alone again.” He shrugged. “At my age, that’s how it goes, with other people decidin’ what’s best for you.”
“I’m sorry to hear you can’t live alone anymore.” Tanner sincerely meant that. “Maybe you can make arrangements for some kind of in-home care. If you can afford that, of course.”
“I’m workin’ on it. I got plenty of money saved back, so I had Crystal get me another house here in Mystic Creek. She found a nice little place on ten acres just outside town. It’s a short drive from her salon, and she’s already livin’ there. The house was made over for an old lady in a wheelchair, but she passed away. Crystal thinks it’ll suit my needs, and she’s willin’ to stay there to look after me.”
Tanner nodded. “That sounds ideal. Ten acres isn’t quite as much land as you had in Crystal Falls, but at least you’ll still have elbow room.” For most of his life, Tuck had been a rancher. Tanner doubted he would be happy living inside the city limits on a small lot. “You’re blessed to have a granddaughter who loves you so much.”
“I am, for certain. She’s a sweet girl.”
“Where’s Bolt? At the new place?”
“Nope. Crystal has enough to do without fussin’ over a horse. I had her find a place to board him. When I’m able, I’ll bring him home and take care of him.”
Tanner walked back into the living room, stabbing his fingers under his belt to neaten the tuck of his brown uniform shirt. “I sure wish I could stay for a while, but I’ve got to run.”
“I understand. It’ll soon be suppertime, and you’ve got kiddos to feed. Next time we’ll enjoy a beer together and get caught up. You drive safe on that curlicue highway gettin’ home. You’re all your kids have left.”
Tanner paused at the door. An urge came over him to hug the old fart goodbye. He wasn’t sure when he’d come to care so much about Tuck, but after believing him to be dead for nearly a month, he found the feelings were there inside him. The old man had some crazy notions that Tanner didn’t agree with, and sometimes he told stories so far-fetched that no sane person could believe them. But he also had a big heart, an indomitable spirit, and a way of looking at life that brought everything into perspective for Tanner sometimes. Still, Tanner wasn’t sure the older man would appreciate being hugged.
“I’ll be seeing you,” he said.
Then he let himself out and softly closed the door.
* * *
Crystal Malloy’s feet ached as if she’d run barefoot on concrete for eight hours. When she glanced in the styling mirror and saw her reflection, she yearned to wash her long red hair. Pink spray-on highlights had been a poor choice. The clash of color was nauseating, and she looked awful. But she had no time to spare for herself. She hadn’t even found time to eat lunch or visit the bathroom.
Prom night. It was normally her favorite spring event, the school year’s grand finale that always filled her salon to the brim with customers. She had girls sitting double in the chairs lining one wall and all four stations were filled with more teenagers. They wanted updos, wash-out streaks, metallic highlights, straight hair, curly hair, or crimped hair. And all of them wanted their makeup done.
The sulfuric smell of permanent-wave solution burned Crystal’s nostrils, her skin felt sticky from the clouds of hair spray inside the building, and her nerves were shot. Her technicians had been trained never to overbook appointments, so half these kids must have been walk-ins. With only four stations, how would they get to all of them? There were drawbacks to owning the most popular salon in town.
Relax, she told herself. Just roll with it. By six thirty, they’ll all look gorgeous and be going home to put on their gowns. Only, she was so tired. It had been a long day, and everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. At noon she’d gotten a call from a neighbor that Rip, her grandfather’s dog, was running loose again. In order to find the animal, she’d had to hand over a tint job to Shannon Monroe, a tall, slender brunette who’d had a cancellation and was able to finish the customer’s hair. Then, after two hours of driving the gravel roads surrounding Tuck’s new house, she had missed two more appointments and she still hadn’t found the dog. Where was he? Had he been struck by a car? Her grandfather loved that heeler like no tomorrow and would be inconsolable if anything happened to him. Even worse, Rip’s escapes were becoming a daily occurrence. How could she make a living when she spent half of what should have been her workdays looking for a runaway canine? Locking him up inside the house was out. He was destructive when he was confined indoors alone.
Glancing around the salon, Crystal remembered a time when this place had been only a dream. Instead of being in a foul mood, she should have felt proud of her accomplishments and thankful that she’d met her goals. The shop was high-end and classy. The hair and nail techs were dressed in designer uniforms. The waiting room was packed with paying customers who hoped to look beautiful when they left. Soft Hawaiian music played on the sound system, enabling people to imagine they were in a tropical paradise. The thought made Crystal smile. Mystic Creek was anything but tropical. City plows sometimes left berms of winter snow in the middle of the street that were higher than her head.
The phone rang just as Crystal had finished applying temporary color to a strand of a girl’s blond hair. “I can’t get it! Does anyone have a hand free?”
Nadine Judge, a half-Cherokee woman with thick black hair and almond-shaped brown eyes, yelled back, “I’ll get it!” Then Crystal heard her say, “I’m sorry. Is this an emergency, Patricia? She’s really busy.” Then, in a louder voice, she cried, “You’ve got to take it, Crystal. It’s Patricia from the assisted living facility. Tuck has done something wrong, and she’s threatening to evict him.”
Pain bulleted into Crystal’s temples. For a dizzying moment, bright spots danced before her eyes. When her vision cleared, she grabbed a piece of foil, laid a still-wet strand of her young client’s lavender hair on it, and said, “Sorry, Megan. I’ll be right back.”
Crystal walked over to the front desk. Nadine cupped her hand over the mouthpiece and said in a stage whisper, “God, she can’t kick him out! You don’t even have neighbors near the house who can check on him during the day, and according to what you’ve said, he’s still not steady on his feet.”
Crystal didn’t need anyone to outline the reasons she couldn’t take her grandfather home yet. She tried to smile at Nadine and knew she failed miserably. She took the phone and pressed it to her ear. “This is Crystal.”
“Hello, Crystal. This is Patricia Flintlock. Again. Your grandfather has really done it this time.”
Crystal clenched her teeth and counted to five. She didn’t have time to go clear to ten. “Hi, Patricia. I know Tuck is having a hard time adjusting to his new surroundings, but surely he’s done nothing so bad that he should be evicted.”
“Think again.” Patricia didn’t handle a position of authority well. As administrator of the assisted living center, she reigned like a female Hitler. “I have rules in this facility, and they’re nonnegotiable.”
The pain in Crystal’s temples stabbed deeper. “What rule has Tuck broken?”
“Make that rules . We caught him drinking beer and chewing tobacco in his apartment. I will not countenance drunkenness in my building, and chewing tobacco is messy and thoroughly disgusting. I won’t have it, I’m telling you!”
Crystal had to bite her tongue. She’d gone to live with Tuck when she was eleven; she was now thirty-two, and in all those years she’d never seen her grandfather drunk. “How could Tuck get his hands on beer and chew? He can’t drive yet, and even if he could, his truck is at the house.”
“Well, now,” Patricia replied in a snarky tone, “that’s a good question, and the only answer I can think of is that you brought it to him. I know you’re aware of the facility rules. Your flagrant disregard of them is infuriating, to say the least.”
Crystal struggled to control her temper. “That’s a preposterous accusation. You know Tuck isn’t recovered enough to come home. I haven’t even found a daytime caregiver for him yet. Why would I take him beer and tobacco when I’m fully aware that you might evict him from the only place he has to stay right now?”
“Another good question. Tuck is new to Mystic Creek. Nobody but you comes to visit him. Do you expect me to believe those substances appeared out of thin air?”
“I expect you to believe me when I tell you straight-out that I did not supply my grandfather with beer and chew.”
“You complained early on about the rules here being too strict.”
“But I agreed to abide by them,” Crystal argued. “And I have. I don’t know how Tuck got his hands on beer, but I can assure you I’ll find out and it’ll never happen again.”
“You need to come to the facility. We’ll discuss the matter further. Your grandfather is upset and yelling obscenities. If you don’t get him calmed down, I’m calling the police.”
Crystal scanned the crowded salon. She couldn’t leave her techs to deal with all this by themselves. But she knew the facility administrator meant what she said. She’d evict Tuck without hesitation. “It’s prom night, Patricia, one of my busiest days of the year. I’ve got a girl half-finished at my station. I can’t drop everything and leave her with only one side of her head streaked.”
“We all have our problems. Mine is an angry old man who is disturbing other residents.”
Crystal started to reply, but Patricia hung up before she could. She stared stupidly at the phone and then returned it to the charging base.
“What did Tuck do this time?” Nadine, putting the finishing touches on a girl’s layered bob, flashed a worried look over her shoulder. “What’ll you do if she kicks him out?”
Crystal jerked off her salon jacket, a dark brown tunic-length garment patterned with palm fronds. “They caught him with beer and chewing tobacco. Patricia says he’s yelling obscenities and being disruptive.”
“Patricia Flintlock is an uptight pain in the butt,” Nadine retorted. “Why can’t Tuck have a couple of beers? Better question, what is her definition of an obscenity?”
Crystal tossed the jacket in the laundry basket. “Regardless, I have to drive over there and get Tuck settled down. Then I need to defuse the situation so he doesn’t get kicked out.” Glancing toward her station, she said, “I’m sorry for abandoning all of you, but I see no way around it.”
Jules Wilson, a slightly plump blonde with twinkly blue eyes, said, “I can finish Megan. You have an emergency on your hands. And, Crystal, recommend to Patricia that she come to see me. I’ll color her hair and accidently make it green.”
Crystal grabbed her purse and left the building. The moment she stepped out onto the back porch, she dragged in a deep breath of fresh air and took a moment to appreciate the sunlight angling through the pine boughs to splash the needle-covered ground with butter yellow. Everything will be okay, she assured herself. Patricia will get over her snit, and Tuck will start behaving himself. All I need is a couple more weeks to make arrangements. Then I’ll be able to take care of him .
* * *
After making the fifteen-minute drive, Crystal reached the assisted living center at five thirty. The sun clung to the horizon in the western sky over snowcapped peaks, and she knew dusk would soon blanket the valley. It had taken Crystal a long while to grow accustomed to the early sunsets that occurred in an area surrounded by mountains. Twilight lasted for hours. But now she appreciated the cool summer evenings and the ever-present breezes.
Dropping her keys into her purse, she slipped out of her Chevy Equinox. Flower-bed tulips had sprung up under the drive-through portico, but the petals hadn’t opened yet. Even so, the closed blossoms lent color to the evergreen landscaping.
The sound of Tuck yelling obscenities didn’t greet her when she entered the facility. The heels of her shoes clicked against the creamy tile floor as she walked to the front desk. Marsha, a friendly redhead who’d recently divorced her husband, manned the desk for most of the weeknight shifts. She seemed to like her job, but Crystal knew she didn’t care for her boss. Marsha was a regular at the salon and complained nonstop about Patricia while her gray roots were touched up.
“The dragon is in her cave,” she said. “Enter with caution. She’s breathing fire tonight.”
Crystal sighed. “Can she really evict an old man who has nowhere else to go?”
Marsha shrugged. “Legally? It beats me. But I wouldn’t put it past her. And just so you know, Tuck didn’t yell obscenities like she says. He cussed a lot, but he said nothing I haven’t said myself many a time. At its worst, I don’t think of my language as being obscene.”
“I appreciate the information.”
Crystal had visited the dragon’s cave frequently and needed no direction. She turned to cross the community area, which was also tiled in cream squares, and furnished with brown sofas and chairs. She tapped on the door tagged with a brass plaque that read, ADMINISTRATOR, PATRICIA FLINTLOCK.
“You may enter,” the woman called out.
Crystal might have laughed if her mood hadn’t been so sour. Did the woman think she was a military commander? She stepped into the office, a small space sparsely appointed with only a desk, two chairs, and a file cabinet. Creamy walls blended with the floor, giving Crystal the feeling she’d just been dunked into a tub of milk.
Patricia’s steel gray hair was cut in a jaw-length pageboy and lacquered so heavily that a high wind wouldn’t disturb a strand. It looked like a metal helmet sitting on her head. Her unfriendly hazel eyes peered at Crystal through narrowed lids. Her mouth was drawn into a grim line. Her cheeks had lost the war with gravity and slipped downward to give her face a jowly appearance. If she wore a trace of cosmetics, it wasn’t apparent.
She straightened the collar of her gray shirtwaist dress. “Please, take a seat.”
Thinking the woman would have made a formidable high school principal, Crystal sat down. “I haven’t heard a peep coming from Tuck’s residence,” she observed. “I assume he stopped yelling.”
“Only after he called me a power-mongering, menopausal bitch.”
Trust Tuck to be accurate as well as profane. Crystal cleared her throat. “He’s normally a mellow man. This has been a difficult time for him and has brought a lot of changes into his life.”
“We all must adjust to old age and the changes that come with it.”
“That doesn’t mean all of us can do it gracefully. My grandfather has been independent until now, and suddenly he’s surrounded by attendants who monitor his every move and tell him what to do. Surely you can understand that it’s difficult for him.”
“Where are you going with this?”
Crystal crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap. “I’m hoping to convince you Tuck deserves another chance. I’ll have a talk with him, and I assure you this will never happen again.”
Patricia’s eyes narrowed even more. “There is the matter of who brought him the forbidden substances. You’ve yet to name a single person who might have done it, which leaves you as the only suspect.”
Crystal’s mouth went chalky. “You can’t seriously believe I would jeopardize my grandfather’s residency here. I have nowhere else to place him within a reasonable driving distance. Round-trips to see him in Crystal Falls would eat up over an hour of each day, not to mention the length of my visits and the cost of gas.”
“Until I’m convinced you didn’t sneak beer and tobacco into this building, your grandfather’s right to be here is in jeopardy.”
Crystal knew the woman meant it. Whether it was reasonable or not, she wouldn’t hesitate to kick Tuck out. “I’ll talk with Tuck. Maybe he’ll tell me how he got the stuff.”
“Good luck. He won’t want to reveal his source. I’m sure he hopes to get more.”
Crystal stood and collected her purse. “After my talk with Tuck, I’ll be back to discuss this further.”
Patricia inclined her head like a queen who’d just granted a lowly attendant permission to leave. Crystal wished she could put the woman in her place, but for Tuck’s sake, she had to keep her mouth shut.
As she passed Marsha’s station, the receptionist asked, “Did she breathe fire and singe your eyebrows?”
Crystal winked. “I held her at bay with the fire extinguisher.”
She walked down the hall to Tuck’s apartment, rapped on the door, and then cracked it open to poke her head inside. “You decent, Tuck? It’s me, Crystal.”
“At least you gave me a warnin’. Come on in, but don’t start yammerin’ at me.”
Crystal walked through the tiny kitchen into his adjoining living room. Tuck sat in a brown recliner that she’d brought from his home in Crystal Falls. The faux-suede sofa and burl coffee table had also come from there. She set her purse on the glossy wood and folded her arms at her waist.
“When you stand like that, I know I’m in for a scold. But before you start, that woman tells outright lies.”
She loved this old man. He had taken her in when her life at home had been miserable beyond bearing, and he’d helped her make a fresh start. In all the years since, he’d never once let her down. No matter what it took, she’d never let him down, either. “She says you called her a power-mongering, menopausal bitch. Was that a lie?”
“Nope. I said that, and I stand behind it. It’s the God’s honest truth.”
A smile tugged at Crystal’s lips. With a sigh, she sat near him on the sofa. “Oh, Tuck, what am I going to do with you? Patricia is an extremely unpleasant and rigid person, but in order for you to stay here, we have to get along with her.”
“Honey, I don’t want to stay here. I’m workin’ hard to get stronger and countin’ the days until I can leave. I’m gettin’ better every day.”
“I know you are. But the doctors want you to remain here for two more months. They say the daily physical therapy sessions are crucial to a full recovery.”
“I ain’t stayin’ in this hellhole that long,” Tuck retorted. “I got no privacy or freedom to do as I like.”
“I understand, and I’m doing everything I can to get you out of here sooner. I can take you in for physical therapy. We’ll make it all work somehow. Just give me a little more time to make arrangements.”
“I don’t wanna die in this place.”
Crystal picked at a fleck of lint on her dark brown slacks. She hated it when Tuck talked about dying. It made her stomach hurt. “I won’t let that happen. But you’re still not steady on your feet. It’s hard for you to get up and down with only one good arm. What if you fell? I can’t leave you alone yet.”
He sighed. “I think I’d be okay. I ain’t some invalid who can’t do nothin’.”
Searching for words, Crystal smoothed the sofa arm. She couldn’t allow Tuck’s pride to rule the day. In his younger years, he’d worked from dawn until well after dark, and he’d refused to ask for help unless there’d been no way around it. If she tried to picture a man among men, she saw her grandfather. He would never admit now that he needed supervision. But, regardless, it was her job to see that he got it. “Can you work with me? Give me two more weeks?”
“That ain’t so long. I reckon I can stand almost anything for two weeks.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Patricia thinks I brought you the beer and tobacco. If I can’t convince her otherwise, she says she’ll evict you. Please tell me who brought those things to you.”
Tuck shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
Crystal met his gaze. “I won’t get the person in trouble, Tuck. I just need to pacify Patricia by telling her who did it.”
He snorted. “It won’t be up to you! That woman don’t care who she hurts.”
Crystal couldn’t argue with that point. She’d never met anyone like Patricia Flintlock. “Until I can take you home, you have to cooperate and follow the rules so you can stay here.”
“Like I’m five years old? I did nothin’ wrong. Drinkin’ beer and chewin’ snuff ain’t a crime. You should’ve been here! When a nurse saw I had beer in a coffee mug, she acted like Jack the Ripper had invaded the buildin’. Next thing I knew, the alpha bitch came in with two more women, and they started tearin’ the place apart. When they came across cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon in my shoes and boots, they acted like they’d found that crack Coca-Cola stuff!”
Crystal’s brain snagged on that. Then she realized he was talking about illegal drugs he’d heard about on the news. “I know it can be difficult here,” she tried.
“ Difficult? You ever had someone go through your cupboards and drawers? One gal reached under my mattress and found my Playboy magazines!”
“You read Playboy ?”
“I don’t read ’em. What man in his right mind reads ’em? I buy ’em to look at the girls. And she was gonna throw ’em away! How is that right? I pay for ’em. They’re mine.”
Crystal held up a hand. “It isn’t right, Tuck. This whole mess frustrates me, too. You’re entitled to your privacy, even here.”
“As far as that goes, I got a right to drink beer and chew snuff if I’ve a mind.”
“Yes, you do. Patricia is unreasonably strict.”
“Then get me outta here! It’s like doin’ time in prison.”
Crystal pushed up from the sofa and began to pace. “I will, Tuck. Only two more weeks. That’s all I’m asking.”
“I’ll give you that, but not a day more. Then I’m leavin’ whether you like it or not. I’ll take care of my own damned self.”
“I’ll be here to help you pack,” she assured him. “And I’ll have men hired to move you home. No more rules, Tuck. No more nosy women to violate your rights. But for now, we have to play along and keep peace with Patricia. In order to do that, I need the name of the person who brought you the beer and chew.”
“How do you know I didn’t just order the stuff?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?” A wave of relief washed over her. “I can show her the order to prove a third party wasn’t involved. That should settle her down.”
Crystal grabbed his phone from the arm of his chair. Tuck tried to take it back, but in her eagerness to find the evidence she needed, she avoided his reach. She tapped the screen of the cell and began searching the communication data. She saw nothing to indicate Tuck had ordered anything recently, but she did find a message thread with an individual named Tanner. Her heart sank as she met her grandfather’s fiery gaze.
“You didn’t order anything.”
“Of course not!” Tuck puffed air into his wrinkled cheeks. “You can’t order beer and chew online.”
Crystal thought a person probably could, but she wasn’t about to disabuse her grandfather of that notion. “So this Tanner person brought you the forbidden stuff.”
“He’s my friend. I promised he wouldn’t get in trouble!”
“I have no intention of getting him in trouble. He just did you a favor. He meant no harm.” She took a calming breath. “Is that his first or last name? And who is he?”
Tuck sat back in his recliner and clenched his teeth. She knew by his expression that he wouldn’t divulge a full name under threat of death. Feeling defeated, she scanned the room. In one corner sat a box. She walked over, lifted it by a flap, and studied the mailing label. “You’ve had a recent delivery from Courier Express.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Tuck said. “That’s old, a movin’ box you left here.”
Crystal had fleetingly hoped her grandfather actually had ordered the contraband, but his quick denial negated that possibility. Otherwise he would have just said the delivery company had brought him his purchases. This definitely wasn’t a moving box. She’d long since flattened all of them and stored them in a closet at the farmhouse. “What’s your friend’s full name, Tuck?”
“I ain’t talkin’.” Anger flickered in his eyes. “Those bitches can waterboard me, and I still won’t sing.”
“Fine.” She returned the cell phone to the arm of his recliner. “I’ll handle it from here.”
“How? You don’t got his name.”
“With a simple phone call to Courier Express, I’ll have his name. I can prove to Patricia that I didn’t aid and abet you in breaking her stupid rules.” She tried to smile. “It’ll be better this way, Tuck. You don’t have to betray your friend, and I can get the situation under control with Patricia.”
“Don’t you dare do that,” Tuck said softly. “If you get Tanner in trouble, I may never forgive you. I mean it.”
Crystal collected her purse. “Trust me just a little. I know your friend did nothing wrong, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t get in trouble. All I want is to pacify Patricia so you don’t get evicted before I can take proper care of you.”
She turned to leave. Tuck yelled, “Crystal Lynn Malloy, if you tell anyone his name, I’ll be mad enough to chew nails and spit out screws! I mean it!”