Grace Grows

by Shelle Sumners

  He had nestled the tiny yellow roses in among the hydrangea and some curling ivy leaves and tied it all with opalescent blue ribbon. It was delicate, contained, perfect. An exquisite, living bracelet. He slid it on my wrist.

  “Ty. . . .” I looked up at him. Astonished.

  Gram is crackers

  It was dark out. I could hear Ty downstairs playing the piano. I looked at the clock. I had overnapped and now had ten minutes to get ready. I threw on the blue dress and some lip gloss and twisted my hair up.

  Ty was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. He was wearing a boxy, ill-fitting blue suit.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  “You, too.” I am a terrible liar.

  He looked sheepish. “Last time I wore this was for my granddad’s funeral six years ago.”

  I felt the slick fabric of his sleeve. “More blackmail material.”

  “Yeah, good thing I trust you.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “They left a few minutes ago.”

  When we got to the car he opened my door for me. He went around and got in and handed me my lovely corsage, cold from the fridge. I slipped it on my wrist and admired it as we were pulling out of the drive. “It is so weird that you can do this,” I said.

  “I had to help out in the shop weekdays after school. I didn’t get paid, but it was the best ‘real’ job I ever had.”

  “What did you do after you graduated?”

  “Moved out of my parents’ house. Went to work at the lumberyard.” “That doesn’t sound too exciting.”

  “Yeah. I went through a few other jobs, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Hospital orderly. I got fired from that one.”

  “How come?”

  “I was bringing a patient down to surgery and forgot to lift the rails on the gurney. Too busy writing a song in my head. He kinda fell off while we were wheeling him down the hall.”

  “He kinda fell off?”

  “I caught him, mostly. Then I worked at a funeral home. It’s harder to hurt those people.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “Whatever they needed me to.”

  “Do I want to know what that means?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Things got quiet, except for his fingers drumming a beat on the steering wheel. He was writing a song. “Do you need some paper and a pen?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He pulled the car over to the side of the road and I handed him the little spiral notebook I keep in Big Green.

  He scribbled for a while and tore the page out. “I’m gonna play this for you later, see what you think.”

  Ten minutes later we were parking at the Holiday Inn.

  “Anything I should know about your grandmother?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Like whose mom is she?”

  “My mom’s mom.”

  “And her name is?”

  “Rebecca Rachel Sinclair.”

  “And she’s eighty?”

  “Yeah, next week.”

  “And the idea here is to impress her with my giant brain.”

  “Exactly. I want you to know that I really appreciate you doing this, Grace.”

  “Oh, sure, no problem.”

  “I really think it’ll give Gram some peace of mind. She’s been worried about me.”

  “Of course, I’m happy to help.”

  “So, what are you gonna do to make her think you’re with me?”

  “With you. Um . . . well, I thought I’d start by standing beside you when you introduce me.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll hold your arm?”

  He looked dubious.

  “You know, in a proprietary way. Like I consider you mine. An ordinary friend wouldn’t hold your arm like that, would she?”

  “I guess not.” He didn’t sound too enthused.

  “Well, what do you want me to do, hump your leg?”

  He was delighted. “Grace, you never talk dirty!”

  “I’m sorry, that was crude.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Holding my arm is fine. And maybe look at me like you love me a time or two.”

  “Can you give me further direction about that?”

  He sighed. “Just do the best you can.”

  As we got out of the car, a woman walked toward us across the parking lot. I watched her unsmiling approach and resisted the urge to shrink back in awe. She was gorgeous. Tall, straight-backed, wearing a cream-colored wrap dress and heels. Her stunning red hair fell in smooth waves down her back. No discernible makeup, with eyes that were light-amber colored. Except for the dragonfly tattoo on her right ankle, she looked like she could be the elegant, cutthroat CEO of a Fortune 500 company.

  “Hey,” Ty said.

  “Hey, ugly.”

  “This is Grace.”

  She eyed me narrowly. As discreetly as possible, I shifted an inch or two closer to Ty.

  He laughed and reached out and tugged roughly on her hair. “Cut it out, Beck.”

  She smiled. The smile! On a girl. She was suddenly lovely, far less intimidating. “I’m Rebecca. The good twin.”

  I tried not to wince when she shook my hand. Maybe she didn’t know her own strength.

  She threw an arm around Ty’s shoulders. “So how about if I hear from you once in a while?”

  “How about if I hear from you?”

  “I’m not the one with the big fucking record deal. That I have to learn about from Mom.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “I guess you’ve been busy.” She slapped him roughly on the back and winked at me.

  “How’s school going?”

  “Straight As.” She looked at me. “What do you do, Grace?”

  “I’m an editor.”

  “Of books?”

  “Textbooks and reference, yes.”

  “No shit.” She looked at Ty and smiled. I saw that she had a slightly chipped front tooth that somehow only made her look more interesting.

  She looked at me. “Have you ever met our grandmother?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, you’re in for a real treat.”

  “Beck,” Ty said.

  “Well, why the hell would you bring someone here with you for that?”

  “She can take it.”

  I looked at Ty. What could I take?

  Jean came out of the party room to greet us. She looked so elegant, almost patrician in a flowered skirt and celadon twinset that matched her eyes. “Grace, you are so pretty! That blue is your color.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Gram’s waiting to meet you.”

  Ty looked around. “Where’s Dad?”

  She gestured toward the darkened room across the lobby. “At the bar.”

  “Can we go get a drink first?” Ty asked.

  “Hell no,” Rebecca said. “If I talked to her sober, you can, too.”

  “Oh, you guys. Be nice to Gram,” Jean said. “She’s old.”

  She led us to Gram and on the way across the room I remembered why I was there. I took hold of his forearm with both hands. He looked down at me, surprised. I raised my eyebrows. Remember?

  He smiled.

  Gram was a stoop-shouldered, busty, big-boned woman in a wheelchair, with bright apricot hair and thick, cat-eye glasses that magnified her blue eyes. She looked like a Far Side character.

  “Mama, look who’s here,” Jean said.

  Ty leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “Well,” she said. “You’re alive, I guess.”

  “I guess so,” he said.

  “Have you been practicing your scales?”

  “Yeah, Gram. A lot.”

  She looked me up and down. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Grace.” He set a hand on top of mine and squeezed reassuringly. “Hello, Mrs. Sinclair,” I said.

  “Grace,” she said. “You’re pretty, but short. And hanging on to my grandso
n like a barnacle.”

  “Grace is an editor in New York City, Gram.”

  She squinted at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “She helps write schoolbooks.”

  “Schoolbooks!” She looked at me. “About what?”

  “Well, uh, actually, I’ve just finished work on an encyclopedia.”

  “Encyclopedia!” Boy, for an old lady, she had a loud voice. And from her tone you’d think I’d said I was working on a new edition of Mein Kampf.

  “I bought you and your sister a set of those World Books one time,”

  she said accusingly. “Did you ever crack the cover of even one?”

  “Sure I did.”

  “When?”

  He thought about it. “In sixth grade, when I had to write a report about Cuba.”

  She snorted. “Goddamn waste of money.”

  “Now, Mama,” Jean said, taking pity on us. “Ty, why don’t you and Grace go get a soda? We’ll have our dinner in about a half hour.”

  “Okay!” Ty pulled me toward the bar. I was sweating. Ty looked a little drained, too.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “She’s dying. It’s made her kinda crazy and mean.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, what does she have? Cancer?”

  “I don’t know.” He shook his head grimly. “Something that’s taking way longer than it was supposed to.”

  “She has a lot of friends,” I said, looking at the many people around us. “Young and old.”

  “She used to be nice.”

  Nathan was getting up from the bar as we approached. He was dressy from the waist up, in a pressed white shirt and bolo tie. From the waist down he wore newish jeans and biker boots.

  “Good timing,” he said to Ty. “I need you to help me carry in Gram’s gift from the van.”

  “Do you mind waiting here a minute?” Ty asked me.

  “Not at all.”

  They left and I sat on a barstool. The bartender brought me a glass of wine. I gulped most of it immediately and felt the warmth spread. Getting a little drunk seemed like a good idea. It would fortify me for the next cultural exchange.

  A blond man came and sat next to me. He was good-looking, clean-cut, and his suit was nice. He ordered a whiskey.

  “Hi.” He smiled.

  “Hello.”

  “You here for Rebecca Sinclair?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met, are you a relative?”

  “No, I’m here with Tyler Wilkie, her grandson.”

  “Oh, really?” He looked around. “Where is Ty?”

  “He went outside with his dad to get her birthday present.”

  “Oh.” He examined me rather warmly. “Are you and Ty . . .?”

  I wanted to be truthful but not undermine the plan to impress.

  “Together? Yes.” I was here with him, after all.

  “Hm.” He drank his whiskey. “You don’t seem like his type.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re a bit demure.”

  Demure?

  “I’m Dennis Sinclair.” He offered me his hand. “Did you come with him from New York?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  He smiled. “Culture shock, eh?”

  “It’s different,” I allowed.

  It turned out he was Ty’s first cousin, brother of the heroic Elaine, Ty’s prom date. He was doing his medical residency in Philly. I finished my wine and ordered another.

  “Okay,” Dennis said. “I have one burning question.”

  I smiled politely. “Go ahead.”

  “What is a woman like you doing with Ty? He was a bright kid in high school—awkward, but no dummy. He could have made something of himself. But he never went to college, he’s had a string of nothing jobs, and spent the last ten years hanging out in bars.”

  I had the charitable thought that maybe he was only mean when he was drinking. “Well, he’s a musician, you know.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And all that bar time is starting to pay off.”

  “Is it?” Dennis smiled.

  I felt like punching his smirky face. “I guess you haven’t heard, he just signed a major record deal. He’s actually a huge success.”

  Ty appeared behind us, and Dennis changed personalities. He stood up and shook hands heartily. “Hey, man,” Dennis said. “Good to see you.”

  “I think it’s time to go in for dinner,” Ty said.

  “Okay, let’s go!” I hopped off my stool, happy to get away.

  “Your cousin is a jerk,” I said to Ty when we reached the lobby.

  “He’s a shithead, I could’ve told you that.” He drew me aside at the party room doorway. “Did he touch you?”

  “Only with his roaming eyes. And he called you an under-achiever!” Ty smiled.

  “He has no idea how hard you’ve worked, or what you’ve accomplished.” “Should we go back in so you can kick his sorry ass?”

  “Don’t you care?”

  “He can call me whatever he wants, the pissant. Come on.”

  We were seated at the equivalent of the children’s table. Ty, Rebecca, Elaine and husband, Dennis, Elaine’s twins, who actually were children—well, preteen girls—and Nathan. I did a double take when I saw him. There was an empty chair at the main table.

  “Why aren’t you sitting with Jean?” I leaned down and asked.

  “The old lady puts me off my food,” he muttered.

  I sat between Ty and Elaine, who greeted me warmly. She was a beautiful woman. Very beautiful, with blond hair and sky-blue eyes and a great smile.

  “Are you taking good care of Tyler?” she asked.

  “I’m trying to!” I said.

  “He’s special,” she said. “Always has been. His mom tells me good things are happening with his music. We all knew it was gonna go that way, if he’d just take it out of eastern PA.”

  The little girl cousins thought he was special, too, even in his bad suit. They smiled at him and giggled and paid very little attention to their chicken almandine.

  I asked Elaine about the prom date.

  “Oh, he was so cute. So gangly and awkward, with that sweet smile. He had a terrible problem with his speech. You wouldn’t know it at all now.”

  She went on to tell me about her part-time work as a beauty pageant consultant. She traveled around the state giving beauty and image direction to future Miss Scrantons and Miss Delaware Water Gaps.

  Rebecca was across the table, next to the tweens. It felt like she watched me through most of the meal. Nathan, too.

  I listened to Elaine with one ear and to my left I heard Dennis treat Ty to a detailed narrative of his years in medical school. Then he started grilling Ty about his time in New York. He wanted details about the record deal. Then he asked if Ty still had lots of girls hanging around him. Groupies.

  “There are women who come to hear me play,” Ty allowed.

  “Are you getting pussy, like, all the time?” Drunken Dennis asked.

  Ty leaned toward Dennis and said something too quiet for me to hear. Dennis looked at me and barked an obnoxious laugh. “Sorry, man.”

  Jean dinged on her glass with a spoon and made a toast to her mother. A surprising number of other people followed, speaking of Rebecca Sinclair’s lifetime of generosity and friendship.

  Gram was encouraged to speak. “Well. I have never seen such a to-do over nothing. I don’t know why a person can’t get old without everyone commenting on it.”

  A birthday gift was then presented—a large, flat-screen TV—and birthday cake was served from the buffet table. At which time I excused myself to go powder my nose.

  I came out of the stall to find Rebecca lounging on the ladies’ room love seat, elegant, long legs crossed, pinning me with her hawklike eyes.

  “Oh, hey,” I said, trying not to break into a sweat. Trying to look unflustered as I washed and dried my hands.

  “So,” she said, “how long hav
e you been fucking my brother?”

  “I don’t—I haven’t—”

  “Now Grace,” she smiled, all gorgeous animosity, “don’t bullshit me. My mom told me you’re his girlfriend.”

  “She has misunderstood the situation!”

  The brutal smile faded. “You’re not sleeping with him?”

  I shook my head.

  “No shit.” She studied me as if I was an intriguing new species of female. “Just haven’t gotten around to it yet?”

  “We’re friends. That’s all.”

  There was a tiny shooting star just above her collarbone. She saw me looking at it. “You have any tats?”

  I shook my head.

  She stood and opened the bathroom door for me. “You want one, while you’re here? Something small and pretty? There’s a guy in town who does the best hummingbirds I’ve ever seen. My treat.”

  “Thank you, maybe another time.” Part of me would have liked to take her up on her generous offer, but I was going to leave this world the way I came in—a pale, unmarked page.

  Ty was still stuck listening to Dennis. Elaine and family were gone. Nathan had drifted back to the bar.

  “Hey, Beck, why don’t you sit here next to me?” Dennis invited.

  “Because then I’d have to talk to you. I’m going for coffee. You want some, Grace?”

  “Please.”

  “Damn,” Dennis said, watching her walk away. “She is the same big bitch she always was.”

  I saw Ty’s jaw tighten and his fingers drum on his leg, only I don’t think he was writing a song. Poor guy, he’d been listening to Dennis patiently for over an hour now.

  “Well,” Dennis said, in a let’s wrap this up, I have important things to do tone, “it’s good to hear you’re making progress, Ty. We’ve all been worried that you weren’t going to live up to your potential.”

  It was the last straw. I put an arm around Ty’s shoulders and whispered loudly in his ear, “Take me home. Now. I want you.”

  He looked at me with one eyebrow faintly quirked. I brushed his hair back. Kissed him on the cheek. The brow went up another notch. He smiled and set an arm around me and gave me a squeeze.

  “Seems like you guys are pretty serious,” Dennis said.

  “My God,” I blurted, “you have no idea. I adore this man. Frankly, Dick, I worship him. I—”

  “Dennis.”

  “Dennis. Sorry. I’ve had some wine, so I hope I don’t say too much. I don’t even know how to describe it.” I smiled fondly at Ty, who was watching me with interest. “But I’ll try. And I’ll be frank with you, since you’re family. Ty is a god in bed. Right now I can’t wait to get him home. He has the biggest—”