The sales counter finally appeared in the back of the house and two patrons waited in front of it, one engaging with the store owner. After five more minutes passed, Tyler took his turn with the older gentleman in a red apron.
“Sorry for your wait. It’s been excessively busy today. How can I help you?”
Tyler removed the watch from his wrist and placed it on the counter. “I wanted to see if my grandfather’s watch should be insured. A friend said she recognized the brand.”
The dealer slid glasses over his eyes and studied every inch of the watch with a magnifying lens. “Yes. This is a 1957 Jaeger LeCoultre automatic. Stainless steel, and in fairly good condition.” He studied the backside of the watch again. “I’d have to do a formal appraisal for the insurance company, but on quick inspection, I’d say it values between $1,800 and $1,900.”
“You’re kidding?” Caroline had said as much, but Tyler assumed she was being optimistic. He thought of the box of watches in the storage shed. Hundreds of them. “My grandfather had more. Most were much older, some even pocket watches.”
“Sounds like your granddad was a collector.” He handed the watch back to Tyler. “Anything else for me?”
Two more people were in line, but Tyler didn’t move. “What about books and um, fishing tackle gear. He had tons. Even Dr. Suess.”
The old man’s eyes lit up. “First edition?”
“I have no idea. There are boxes of them.”
“Son, if those are first edition, you’re talking over a grand a book.”
The room began to spin. He’d counted twenty the other day.
When Tyler didn’t respond, but stood opened mouthed before him, the man chuckled and patted his shirt pocket, pulling a small card from the cavity. “Tell you what. When you’re ready, give me a call. I usually need a few days’ notice. But if I have some time, I’ll come out and take a look at all you have. I’m so curious, I won’t even charge you for the trip.”
“Thank you.” Tyler slid the card into his wallet quickly, the ink feeling suspiciously like poison. Not just because it meant another part of his life would be defined by a price tag, but also because it made him question too many things.
Harold’s words flashed through his mind: “Always challenge the obvious, use discernment against integrity holes, never hesitate to dig when facts come in to question.”
Who was his grandfather?
How did he afford all this stuff?
What message was he trying to send him?
Once outside, Tyler fisted his phone, needing something to take the burden off his chest. Beck’s number hovered under his finger. He was always the one Tyler went to when he needed help or advice. But nothing was the way it used to be.
Norman was his blood. Dustin his only family. Tyler had to believe there was a logical reason behind what he’d just learned.
Refusing to question himself, Tyler scrolled down, pressed call and waited.
Dustin answered quickly. “Hey. I was just about to call you.”
“You were?”
“Must be some weird telepathic brother thing.”
The word struck him. It was the first time Dustin had said it without censure. “Yeah maybe.”
“So, what’s up?”
“I’m not really sure.” That was the problem. He knew so little about his grandfather and his life that nothing made sense. “Did you ever find Norman’s collections to be odd?”
Dustin’s voice lowered. “What do you mean?”
It hurt to even say it. “Did Norman talk to you about his antiques? Where he bought them?
“I just found out he was my grandfather a few months ago. His junk was the last thing on my mind.”
Fair point. “I don’t think it’s junk.” Tyler paced toward a shade tree on the edge of the parking lot. The sky was cloudless and the pressing heat only added to his burden. “There was a watch mixed in his night stand box. I put it on and a friend of mine said I should have it appraised. Turns out, it’s worth a couple grand.”
“You went to an appraiser?” There was a shift in his voice. Sharper. Almost angry.
Tyler brushed it off. “Yeah, and that’s not all. I mentioned a few of the other things I’ve unpacked and the guy thinks Norman might have been sitting on a small fortune.”
The line went silent and Tyler strained to hear even his intake of breath.
“Dustin? You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Now his tone was full on Armageddon. “If you’d just planned to sell off his possessions, why even offer to let me look through the boxes? Norm may not mean more than a slip of paper to you, but he meant something to me.”
“Whoa. Who said anything about selling?”
“Why else would you get it appraised?”
“For insurance purposes.” Dustin snorted and Tyler shoved his hand in his hair and pulled. This conversation wasn’t going how he wanted it to. “Okay yeah, so maybe I’m also curious why he has boxes of random collections, none of which he seemed to value that much considering the condition they were packed in. I mean, a $2,000 watch just thrown in a drawer? You’re not the least bit curious what he was doing?”
“No, I’m not,” he spit back. “What it does is show me is that you’ve done more than just grow up in Bentwood. You’ve become exactly like everyone I’ve ever met from there.” A resigned sigh echoed through the phone. “I thought we could do this together. That our common interest was a chance to connect not only with him, but with each other. I guess I misunderstood the other day at dinner.”
“You didn—”
“I gotta go.” He hung up before Tyler could finish his sentence and didn’t answer when he tried to call him back.
Tyler closed his eyes until the voicemail ended. “Dustin, hey, it’s Ty. Please answer your phone. You and I want the same thing. This information just threw me is all.” He was so stupid, thinking about Harold with his warnings and analytical judgment. What did he know about the average man? Nothing. “You’re right. I’ve been in this world too long. I won’t get anything else appraised, not until you’ve had a chance to come look at it. Call me back. Please.”
Tyler disconnected the call in agony. He’d already ruined things, just a week in.
The phone buzzed in his grip and he didn’t bother to look at the screen. “Dustin?”
“No, I’m sorry. Is Mr. Mitchell there? This is Carrie from Yellowtree and I have you down as an emergency contact.”
It took a few seconds for Tyler’s mind to stop spinning and piece her words together. Yellowtree, Journey, her grandmother. A mix of adrenaline and pure fear clouded out any other thought in his mind.
“Yes, I’m sorry. This is Tyler. Is there a problem?”
“Mrs. Hawthorne is having one of her episodes and we can’t get her to calm down. Her granddaughter has instructed us not to use a sedative, but I’m afraid if this continues, we’re going to have to override that request.”
“No. Just wait.” The last time they dosed her grandmother, it took a week to get her out of bed again. “I’ll be right there. Five minutes.”
She reluctantly agreed and Tyler raced to his car, the building behind him and his earlier phone call forgotten.
He made it to the nursing home in eight minutes and rushed up the stairs to the lobby. Carrie must have recognized him, because she waved him through without making him sign the guest registry.
Despite this facility being one of the best in the state, Tyler still caught the lingering scent of urine intermixed with chlorine as he walked down the carpeted hall. An orderly cart sat abandoned outside Mrs. Hawthorne’s room and he could hear her vicious accusations from three doors down.
“I am not a prisoner!” she screamed. “I am Victoria Hawthorne. My husband owns this building and I will not be bullied.”
Tyler increased his pace and rushed through the opening. They had her sandwiched between two large nurse’s aides, her arms locked down in their vice grips, but still the old c
at twisted and tried to swing like she was sixteen years old. Her spunk made him smile, but his sudden presence made her eyes go narrow.
“Who are you? Wait, I’ve seen you before. You’re, you’re…” she faded off, her memory a constant curse to her.
“I’m Tyler. You asked me to come spend the afternoon with you, remember?”
She shrunk back, fought them harder. “No, no. I don’t know you.”
His mind searched for a solution. He’d only seen her this way once before and Journey had asked him to wait in the hall. He flew through the memory, what she said, what she did, till finally…
Tyler eased closer, each step careful, and began to hum a melody. The same melody Victoria used to sing to Journey when she was a little girl. Edelweiss.
He butchered a few of the notes, but they seemed to resonate. Victoria began to still, her arms no longer trying to thrash those next to her. Carefully, her lips began to move, soundlessly, as she mouthed the words along with him.
Tyler stopped humming. “There’s a beautiful rose garden down the hall. I would love to take you there.”
Teary eyed, Victoria nodded, now completely compliant. The aides let go of her arms and allowed Tyler to tuck her aged hand in the crook of his elbow. She wasn’t fully coherent, but that was okay. Her subconscious must have told her she could trust him, and a crack was all he needed.
Victoria was tall and thin like Journey, her shoulder almost reaching his. They also walked the same, straight backed with a stride that floated more than stepped. But where Journey was soft hearted, Victoria was a fireball, though he knew Journey loved that about her. She loved it about April, too.
They passed the nurses’ station, and Carrie placed a hand on her heart. Tyler nodded in response, but kept his focus on each step Victoria took. She was still shaking, still vulnerable.
“I’m sorry they upset you,” Tyler said as they approached the garden area.
“A man came today. He said something about trouble. I don’t know. I tried to leave, to help, but they wouldn’t let me. They locked the doors on me.” Her forehead furrowed as if she knew she were forgetting important pieces of the story.
“It’s all okay now. I fixed the trouble.” Tyler had no idea what memory she was locked into, but those seemed like the right words.
She let out a relieved sigh, and clasped her right hand over the wedding band around her left finger. Fearing theft, Journey had secured the four-carat engagement ring in a safety deposit box, but allowed her grandma to keep that one precious memento. Covered in diamonds, the ring was still worth thousands, but its value went far beyond money, and Journey agreed the risk was worth the daily joy it brought to her grandmother.
They reached the wall of windows overlooking the garden, the roses fully visual in their springtime bloom. Victoria was in no state to walk safely outside, so Tyler led her to a bench in the corner. “Will you sit with me?” he asked gently.
“You’re such a nice young man. Are you entangled?”
He swallowed a laugh. “Entangled?”
“Well, I don’t know what you call it these days. Engaged. Spoken for. You know what I mean.”
He took her hand and squeezed. “Yes, I know what you mean. And no, I’m not entangled.”
“Well, good. There is a lovely girl who comes in to paint with us every week. I could give you her phone number. I’d just have to ask her for it.”
“If she’s as lovely as you say, I’m sure she’s taken care of.”
“Maybe.” Victoria squinted her eyes, always searching for that elusive puzzle piece. “Did I ever tell you the story of how Ronny proposed to me?”
Tyler helped lower her onto the bench, then took the seat next to her. “No, you haven’t, but I’d love to hear it now.”
She began reciting every detail. How they met, how they fought against disapproving parents, how she knew he was her one and only.
A love story for the ages. And part of him wished it was his.
Chapter 20
The entire trip to Yellowtree took on a slow-motion quality. The building felt too far, the chance of getting to her grandma in time slipping away with each ticking second. Her phone had been on silent for only an hour. Just while she showed art films to her freshman class.
Heart beating loud in her ears, Journey rushed past an aide pushing a wheelchair, straight to the nurses’ station. “I’m here. Where is she? Do you know what set her off this time?” Please say you didn’t drug her. Please, please say I’m not too late.
“I’m sorry, Journey, when we couldn’t get ahold of you, we contacted your next emergency contact.”
Journey’s pulse plummeted. She hadn’t updated the paperwork. Ty was still listed.
“He took her to the rose room, and she is doing much better. Talking. I even heard Victoria cackle.” Carrie winked. “Better watch out or your nana might just make a play for your man.”
There was a part of her that couldn’t move. He came? “So you didn’t drug her?”
“We didn’t have to. Tyler calmed her down right away. He’s been sitting with her for nearly thirty minutes now.” She patted Journey’s trembling hand. “That one’s a keeper.”
Too grateful to feel anything but relief, Journey thanked the woman and walked toward her grandmother’s favorite spot, her steps slowing as she heard their mutual laughter. Their backs were to her, their gazes firmly transfixed on the reds and pinks through the tall window. Tyler pointed at something and must have made another joke because her grandmother laughed, full bodied like she used to before the disease stole her away.
Tears choking her, Journey closed her eyes and wished away the sadness. But instead of relief, she was assaulted with memories of springtime and blankets and picnics. Memories of her favorite place on earth—the hill behind the Kinder’s house where the grass was littered with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes.
Memories of Ty, propped up on an elbow, watching her. He always watched her. Like she was a gift he didn’t deserve.
That day, he’d picked her a fistful of bluebonnets, even though Beck had told him he’d go to jail for picking one. He’d said her smile was worth any incarceration. Then he’d taken her hand and promised to give her bluebonnets every spring.
This was the first year he hadn’t kept that promise.
Her eyes slowly opened, reality returning like it always did after a dream.
Tyler turned his head, hesitating when he spotted her. He whispered something to her grandmother, lightly squeezed her shoulder and stood from the bench. Hands shoved into his pockets, he made his way over.
As long as she’d known him, Ty kept his hair trimmed, but lately strands of brown hair slightly covered his forehead. The look was charming. The type of style that teased and begged to be swept away.
A wave of sadness rolled through her. She used to be able to touch him without thought or premeditation. Now she had no idea what was allowed or appropriate.
“Hey,” he said and moved slightly closer.
The motion was all the invitation she needed. Barreling forward, she wrapped her arms around him and tucked her face into his chest. “Thank you. Thank you so much for doing this.” She pressed closer, smelled the wonderful, familiar scent of the aftershave he’d used since high school.
“Of course.” His deep voice vibrated against her temple as his fingertips grazed a trail up her arm. Heat and marvelous goose bumps. “I know what it’s been like between us lately, but I’d never not show up when you needed me.”
His caress along with those words caused every part of her to weep. This was why she’d loved him for so long, why she always would. He was the only man in her life who’d consistently come through, again and again.
He ran a hand down the back of her head. “How have you been?”
“Busy,” she said to his shirt. “I have ten students entering pieces in the art festival, so it’s meant a lot of after hours. Last Friday I was there till nearly ten.”
His ch
est vibrated with a chuckle. “I’m really happy to hear that.” She didn’t know what he found so amusing but didn’t care either. She just wanted to freeze time.
Minutes passed, while they stood there, unmoving, holding each other. Too soon, Ty eased her away from him, but his fingers kept contact, rolling down her arms until they held her hands. He’d always had a fascination with her fingernails, though they were the most unflattering thing on her body.
Once again, he studied them. “You cut off all your nails.”
“Yeah, it’s easier that way, you know, to hold the brushes.” Her students weren’t the only ones in a flurry of color and canvases. She couldn’t get enough. Not of the tangy smell, or the cramp she’d get in her lower back, or even the way her eyes blurred after hours of focused concentration.
Awkwardness settled in the space between them. There was a time when long silences weren’t a problem. Back when they weren’t laced with confusion and insecurity.
“Well, thank you again.”
“Any time.” He glanced behind him. “You know I’ve always loved Victoria.” She did know. Ty respected her nana’s candor even when it was directed at him. His gaze strayed back to hers. “And thank you for the other night, with Dustin. You were the only one who bothered to be nice to him.”
“He’s your brother, Ty.” And really, when it came down to it, that’s all that mattered. She’d get used to Dustin’s intrusive questions and need to invade her personal space. Heck, they all had their own set of vices. “Have you talked to him lately?”
Ty’s face fell as if she’d punched him. “Yeah, earlier.” He studied the ground, kicked his toe against the waxed linoleum. When he lifted his head, the pain she’d seen earlier was gone. “Are you free? I mean, do you want to get some coffee or something?”
“I’d love to, but…” Stricken by how torn she was, Journey glanced at her grandma, still impassively staring out the window. “I really need to stay with her.”
Until I Knew Myself (Bentwood Book 1) Page 14
