by Peggy Jaeger
Well, maybe a few where she was actually dressed, not in her jammies, and her hair was coiled around her head instead of over her shoulder.
Eagle-sharp periwinkle-blue eyes zeroed in on the man behind me. “And who might this handsome lad be? You don’t usually bring along a beau when you come to visit me, darlin’ girl. And especially when I’m not lookin’ me finest.”
The tops of Frayne’s cheeks turned an adorable pink under Nanny’s hearty scrutiny. The smile he graced her with, though, was pure male delight.
I made the introductions.
“I have to disagree, Mrs. Heaven,” he told her, the skin around his eyes wrinkling and laughter dancing in their depths when he took her withered hand in his. “You look very fetching.”
“Ach, now.” Nanny waved a dismissive hand at him, her own eyes twinkling at the flirtation in his voice. “ ’Tis a good eye physician you need. I’ve one I can recommend. And it’s Scallopini now, darlin’ boy. Like the dish, minus the veal. Robert Heaven was me third husband. God rest his soul.” She made the sign of the Cross.
“Nanny, Mr. Frayne is writing a book about Josiah Heaven.”
“A book about the Reverend? Why, who would want t’be readin’ about that old crackpot, I ask ya?”
“You’d be surprised, Mrs. Heaven,” Frayne said. “I mean, Scallopini.”
“I imagine I would at that, then, since you’re here. So. What do ya need with an old woman like me?”
I settled Nanny into the reclining chair she’d been able to bring from home and indicated the other chair in the room for Frayne, while I sat on the edge of her turned-down bed.
I let Frayne take the lead in the questioning.
“I’m doing research on the Reverend at the museum, and I noticed something odd when I began tracing the descendants’ files. There’s nothing I can find catalogued in the archives about Robert Heaven from after his college graduation until his marriage and then his death,” Frayne told her. “I find it odd nothing of note was ever saved by someone about him, when every other family member has literally reams of documents and files associated with them.”
“Does seem odd, aye?” Nanny said. “Robert had a very full life before we married. Attended college. Yale. Ran his own company for a number of years. Stayed a bachelor until his late fifties, married to his company, most who knew him said. Then we met, and as the kids say these days, the rest is history.”
Frayne’s smile was soft and, I had to admit, charming.
“Together almost twenty years before he went to his maker with a smile on his lips and a full stomach, seeing as we’d just dined at the annual Jingle Bell Ball. Good years. Good times.”
“You don’t happen to still have any of his possessions or personal items, do you? Or anything from his family archives? I realize he’s been gone for some time, but if you know of anything, or anywhere I can go to find something, anything, to help in my research, I’d be in your debt.”
The twinkle in Nanny’s eyes brightened. “Well, now, darlin’ boy, it’s more careful you should be sayin’ those words to the likes of me. We Irish take the grantin’ of favors and the payin’ up o’ debts very seriously, you know.”
Frayne must have recognized the devilish gleam in her gaze. My grandmother was many things, with flirt holding the number one position, harmless imp the second. And as a word of caution—never play poker with her.
His mouth split into a grin rivaling Nanny’s. “I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with the perfect recompense, Mrs. Scallopini. Like the dish, minus the veal.”
Her girlish laughter warmed my heart. “Ach, you’re a darlin’ man, you are. The charm of the devil himself.”
“Oh, Mrs. S. I didn’t know you had company.”
Seldrine Compton entered, carrying a tray with a pot of Nanny’s evening tea and a scone from Maureen. My sister sent a supply every few days to the Arms to be doled out to Nanny and her cronies at their asking.
“It’s okay, child.”
“I’m sorry, Cathy.” Seldrine placed the tray on the table next to Nanny’s chair, then rolled it in front of her so my grandmother could reach it. “I don’t mean to interrupt.” When she stood upright again, her eyes flicked to Frayne, and her cheeks turned the color of ripe strawberries in summer.
I could relate to her response. All that adorable rangy male essence stuffed into a ratty pullover and snug jeans would have the same effect on any girl with a pulse and a functioning pair of eyes.
Frayne’s smile left his face, the good humor in his eyes lifting.
Seldrine averted her gaze and settled on me.
“You doing okay?”
Her vigorous head bob told me she understood what I was asking. “I’ll come back when your company’s gone, Mrs. S, for the tray. Can I get you anything else right now?”
“No, darlin’. I’m good. You run along, and I’ll see ya in a bit.”
With another head bob for Nanny and me, she ignored Frayne altogether and left.
“That poor child has had more misery in her young life than should be borne in a lifetime. Right when it looks like she’s making strides and moving forward, the miserable excuse she has for a husband shoots her back a few paces.” Her head shook from side to side as she clucked her tongue. “It’s proud of you I am, Number One. You’re helping her get her life back together. She deserves it. As do those babies o’ hers. It’s times like this”—she reached over and grabbed my hand—“I’m happy you followed in your father’s footsteps instead of me own.”
She turned to Frayne and said, “The lass coulda been more famous than me. Plays the piano like no one’s business, she does.” She winked and added, “Gets it from her dear ol’ gran.”
I’ve got to admit hearing this from a woman I loved without measure went a long way in making my day. From the corner of my eye, I caught the surprised lift of Frayne’s eyebrows. It took everything in me not to leap from my position on the bed, grab his shoulders, shake him, and declare, “See? Not all lawyers are horrible, greedy soul-suckers like you think they are.”
Of course, I didn’t.
But I sure wanted to.
“Now.” Nanny turned her attention back to Frayne. “I don’t know anything specific about any documents or whatnot Robert may have had, but the man was a pack rat, a real hoarder if truth be told. And the messiest human being I’d ever met. Never put anything away once he’d taken it from wherever it was stored. A real chairdrobe and floordrobe, was he.”
“Excuse me, what?” Frayne’s gaze swung from Nanny to me.
Since I have a black belt in Nanny-isms, I translated. “Chairdrobe is what Nanny calls someone who piles their clothes on a chair instead of putting them away in a drawer or hanging them in the closet.”
“Me dear departed granddaughter Eileen was a horrible offender as a teenager,” Nanny said.
“So, going with the description”—Frayne cocked his head at me—“a floordrobe is…”
“Someone who tosses clothes and belongings on the floor in the same fashion.”
Nanny sipped her tea. “Horrible habits, both. ’Twas the cause of many an argument between us. O’ course, the makin’ up was worth the yelling.”
I rolled my eyes, and when I caught Frayne’s stare, he was trying to suppress laughter behind his hand.
“When Robert died,” Nanny continued, “I packed up a bunch o’ boxes he’d had sitting in the basement collectin’ dust and mold and put them into storage. They’re with the rest of the things I couldn’t bring here with me because I’ve got such limited space.”
“They’re in a storage unit?” I asked.
“Aye, lass. Do me a favor and reach into me table there. See the little clutch? Give it over.”
I handed her the item she asked for.
“This is the key to the locker. Or lockers, I should be saying, as I’ve got three.”
I tried not to blanch. Nanny was nothing if not eagle eyed.
“I know you’re thinking who�
��s the hoarder here, lass, but the truth of the matter is I’ve lived for ninety-three years, traveled the world, and been married four times. I’ve got baggage.” Her gaze slid to Frayne, and her lips twitched. “In both the figurative and literal senses, to be sure.”
Truer words, alas, were never spoken.
“Do you have any idea which unit Robert’s boxes are in?” I asked.
Nanny sighed, loud and long. “I’m sorry, lass, I don’t. When he died and then I married Vincenzo, Mr. Scallopini”—she clarified for Frayne—“and then he passed—God rest his soul—after a short time together, I simply locked the door of me house and moved in with your parents in me time o’ grief. You were married and off on your own by then. ’Twas your father’s idea to get rid of everything. He wanted to call in a dumpster company like 1-800-Toss-Me-Crap and chuck it all into the rubbish. We had a big to-do about it. In the end, he saw reason and let me keep me life’s possessions.”
More likely he simply gave in because arguing with his mother always gave him stomach pains.
“Rented the storage lockers, and in a weekend, we moved everythin’ into them. I’ve been meanin’ for years to go and straighten things, look through the piles, and sort it all. Ah, but life has a way of changin’ the plans we make, doesn’t it?”
She has the gift of stating the obvious, does my grandmother.
“So, I’ll give these to you two, and you can rummage ’round and try to find Robert’s things. The boxes’ll be labeled with his name. Don’t be askin’ me where to find them, though. You’ll have to sift through everything yourselves.”
The thought of digging around and hunting through eight decades of my grandmother’s life—and no doubt, junk—wasn’t exactly appealing. On any level. The excited gleam in Frayne’s eyes, though, told me the situation was more than pleasing to him. As a historical writer, he probably lived for the moment he could delve into a person’s past, root through their actual belongings, and perhaps unearth heretofore unknown aspects of their lives.
In the purest sense, he was a biographical archeologist.
Nanny handed the keys to me. “You’ve got me permission to take anything you find pertinent to what you’re doing,” she told Frayne. “Give it to the historical society for their collection. I’ve no need of any of it. Anything lookin’ like junk, take to the dump. That includes”—she peered at me—“me own things.”
“Oh, Nanny, I don’t want the responsibility of choosing what to keep of yours and what to throw away. That’s not right.”
“You hold me power of attorney, don’t ya, lass?”
“I do, but—”
“Well, then use the power I gave ya and make some decisions. Anything you feel has sentimental value, go ahead and keep. The rest, well, if I’ve no use for it now, I’m not gonna. I’ve a thought there may be some good furniture pieces mixed in with all the other stuff Number Four might find useful for the inn. Other than that, nothing else means much to me. I’ve got everything I need here, and I’m probably not gonna be movin’ again afore I leave this earth.”
My heart grew heavy at her words, and a little ping of sorrow riffled through me. “What have you always told me about never saying never?” I reached across the table and took one of her hands in mine.
She laid down her teacup and slid her free hand over mine, cocooning it between them. “You’re more than a half century younger than I am, darlin’ girl. Those words make sense at your age. I’ve lived long enough to know it’s better to roll with what life tosses at ya instead of trying to dodge and weave.”
She squeezed my hand and grinned. “Now, off with the two of ya. I want me evenin’ snack, and I’ve got a new romance book I’m in the middle of on me e-reader I want to get back to. It’s just started to get to all the sexy-time parts.”
She winked at Frayne. When his cheeks went dark again, I knew in my heart Nanny had meant for them to.
“Give us a goodnight hug and kiss, Number One, and be off home yourself. George’ll be waiting.”
I did as asked and then kissed her on both cheeks.
“Mrs. Scallopini, it’s been a delight,” Frayne said, extending his hand to her. “Thank you for your help. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
Nanny might look frail, but in truth she was strong as a workhorse, her hands especially. A lifetime of playing piano professionally had made them that way. She tugged Frayne to her and said, “In this family, we hug.”
I didn’t know who was more shocked, Frayne or me, when his arms circled around her and held on tight for a few seconds.
When he pulled back, both of them had grins on their faces.
“Oh…” Nanny turned her attention back to me. “Before ya leave, tell me. Did ya call Olivia Joyner?”
Heat danced up my neck. “Um, yeah.”
“Good.” She smiled. “You’re in your prime, you are, but getting younger you’re not.”
That heat turned into a furnace blast. “No worries, Nanny.”
Just as we were leaving the room, I spotted Seldrine in the corridor. “Wait up,” I called out. To Frayne, I said, “Give me a second.”
“You all done with your visit?” she asked, snaking a quick look down the hallway at Frayne.
“Yeah. Look, I know you’re working, but I never got the chance to tell you how proud I am of you before I dropped you off this morning.”
“Proud? Of what? I made a mess of everything, Cathy. I could lose my kids, my house—”
I took her hand in mine. “You won’t, which is why I’m proud of you. You’re a strong woman, much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Asa Dupont knows you want what’s best for your family, and he’s betting on you doing whatever you have to in order to ensure it happens.”
“But you heard Grouty. He thinks I’m unfit, and he’s gonna try and prove it.”
“Then you have to prove him wrong. On all counts. Keep going to school, keep working, abide by the judge’s rules, and keep attending those daily meetings. You’ll show everyone this was a blip, an aberration, something not to be repeated.”
Her gaze flicked down the hallway and then back to me. “He a friend of yours?”
The question took me by surprise as did the distrust I saw flying in her expression when she glared at him.
“Not a friend, no. Not even a client.” I explained why Frayne was in town. “What’s the matter?” I asked when she stole another worried glance his way.
“Just be careful is all. Look, I gotta get evening care started. I got three baths to do. I’ll be ready when you pick me up in the morning, don’t worry.”
“I’m not. See you at eight.”
I walked back toward Frayne who was trying—and failing—to look nonchalant as he leaned against the hallway wall, his hands slung in his pockets.
I didn’t say anything about Seldrine, and neither did he.
“I’m sorry for keeping you from your family. I know you want to get home, but can you take a few minutes for us to schedule when to go the storage facility? Obviously, I’m free anytime. You’ve got work and family responsibilities.”
The breath I blew past my lips echoed in the sterile, vacant hallway. “I do.” I pulled my phone from my purse and called up the calendar app. “Tomorrow’s schedule is light, and I’ve got no court appearances. When would you like to start?”
“What’s the earliest you’re available?”
His anticipation was palpable.
“Is ten okay? I’ve got a client at nine. I should be done by ten, ten fifteen at the latest. Does that work for you?”
He told me it did. I gave him directions from the inn to the storage facility and said he should be able to find it without any problems.
“I can always plug the address into the GPS system in the car if I need to,” he said.
I wanted to thank him for being kind to my grandmother and not pushing when she couldn’t tell him anything other than she had. I could imagine a less conscientious man would have g
rilled and prodded her for any memory or bit of information he could elicit.
“You were very patient with my grandmother,” I said before we came to the Arms’ front doors. “Thank you.”
His shrug was careless. “She’s a lovely woman, and she’s helping me.”
I thought it was more and said so. “Were you close to your own grandmothers?”
“Not especially. One was in a nursing home for most of my childhood, and the other died before I was born.”
“My grandmother has been a fixture in my life since the day I was born. In all my sisters’ lives. It’s a blessing we still have her at her age, relatively healthy and still mentally sound.” A laugh jumped from me. “Well, the last part is debatable among my sisters and me at times, but you know what I mean.”
Frayne peered at me from under the fringe of his eyelashes. It annoyed me I couldn’t read what was behind his intense look.
“Family is very important to you, isn’t it?”
“It’s everything.”
I knew now what lay behind the pained, sorrowful expression living in his eyes and the desire to comfort him, console him on his loss was great within me. But I knew he didn’t like me, or rather my profession, and I was pretty sure if I offered him any words of solace or support, he’d shoot me down for my efforts and I’d look foolish for the attempt.
“Well,” he said, zipping up his jacket, “I won’t keep you any longer. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He held the door open for me, and the slap of frigid, windy air was like a thousand little ice shards stabbing my face. I’d donned my hat and gloves and wound my scarf around my neck and chin when we’d been in the vestibule. Frayne had neither hat nor gloves.
I shot a quick glance at him as he got into his car. He didn’t look cold, so maybe he had a body furnace like Maureen. In the dead of winter, she wore flip-flops and was never cold. The passing thought I’d like to snuggle up against someone with heat to spare made me a little uneasy and a tiny bit turned on.
