She settled her fingertips atop his fluffy fur. He blinked awake and stretched. Then he meowed, focusing sleepy eyes on her face. Crystal couldn’t help but smile. “I’m leaving again, No Name. It must seem to you that I’m always gone, but I want to take some treats to my grandpa so he knows I’m thinking of him. When I get home, I’ll give you a really special treat, canned salmon. Yum, right?”
The kitten sprang to his feet and arched his back. Crystal knew she shouldn’t pet him, but he was only a baby and probably still missing his mama.
“You are too cute,” she told him as she ran her nails along his spine. He seemed to enjoy that, dropping at the front and lifting his rump, asking for a scratch at the base of his tail. Her heart melted. Then she straightened and turned away, determined not to let her guard down. He was a kitten she couldn’t love and didn’t want. Forgetting that, even for a second, wasn’t a good choice for her. And it definitely wasn’t a good one for him. Anytime she’d loved anything, it hadn’t ended well. “I’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder.
The drive to Tuck’s facility was short. But to Crystal, exhausted from lack of sleep and working all day, the winding roads outside Mystic Creek seemed endlessly long. She felt drowsy as she guided her car into a parking slot.
Marsha didn’t work on Saturdays. A young blonde named Sedona manned the front desk. Crystal waved hello as she cut across to the hall leading to Tuck’s apartment. At his door, she hesitated. She heard voices inside. Deciding Tuck was probably talking to a nurse, she poked her head inside and said, “It’s me! Okay if I come in?”
“Go ahead, honey.”
Crystal was surprised to see Tuck had company. An old man in a tan fishing jacket sat on the sofa. At his feet lay a fishing pole and a tackle box. His gray hair was mostly covered by a hat that matched his coat, and fishing hooks with lures and flies dangled from around the brim.
“This is my friend Burt,” Tuck said. “I invited him over for a glass of iced tea. We was just talkin’ about startin’ a poker night. You think you could bring me my foldin’ chairs?”
Crystal stowed the baked goods in the cupboard and set her purse on the drop-leaf table that stood against the left wall. With the leaves up, it would seat four, a perfect size for playing cards. “I’d be glad to bring them, Tuck, but I thought you refused to play poker if you can’t bet.”
“We’ll play in my apartment where the battle-ax has no say-so.”
“We hope she has no say-so,” Crystal corrected. “Pete Ramsey is still checking into that. And playing for money—well, I know it’s fun, but most of the people here don’t have very much.”
“Penny ante would be just as exciting,” Burt inserted. “Nobody loses a lot.”
Tuck nodded in agreement.
“I’ll bring you the folding chairs tomorrow if you don’t mind waiting,” Crystal said. “I’d bring them tonight, but I’m really tired and fading fast.”
Tuck frowned. “Why did you even come, then? I would have been happy with a phone call.”
“I have bear claws and maple bars from the Jake ’n’ Bake. I wanted you to have them for breakfast.”
Burt sat straighter. “Maple bars? I’m your best friend. Right, Tuck?”
Tuck laughed. “Only if she brought me two.”
* * *
On the drive home, Crystal fantasized about a long, hot bath to soothe her aching legs. Maybe wearing heels all day was a bad idea. Perhaps it came from spending so much time at the retirement center, but she felt old tonight—as if she’d blinked her eyes and aged ten years.
She parked in front of the fence. Staring at the house, she realized she felt empty. More to the point, her life felt empty. Maybe living here in Tuck’s home had shifted her priorities somehow, because it hit her like a bullet between the eyes that she had nothing—no husband, no home mortgage, and no kids. Rip and the kitten didn’t belong to her. She didn’t even have a boyfriend, and if she did, she wouldn’t allow the relationship to grow serious. She didn’t do serious and never would. Only how would that work in the end? In Tuck’s old age, he had her to care about him. But who would be there for her when she was eighty?
Her cell phone rang, and she jumped with a start. She fished in her purse for the device, saw an unfamiliar number on the screen, almost didn’t answer, but finally took the call.
“Hi, it’s Tanner.”
The deep resonance of his voice ran through her like warm honey. “Hi. How did you get my number?” Why did I ask him that? “I don’t mean that I mind you having it, or anything.”
“I asked Tuck. I’m calling to see if you’d like to do something tonight. Dinner out. Maybe watch a flick afterward. Both my kids are at another sleepover. My mom went out with a girlfriend. I have the whole evening free, which doesn’t happen often. In fact, it happens so rarely I feel lost.”
Crystal didn’t feel quite as tired or lonely as she had a moment ago. “Your town or mine?”
“Since I suspect you worked today, I’ll drive there. Afterward I won’t be as drowsy.”
“Dressy or casual?”
“My wallet can cover only casual.”
She appreciated his honesty. She’d dated too many men who pretended to be rolling in dough and actually weren’t. “That’s good. I won’t have to wear heels.”
“Absolutely not. Go for comfort.”
“Time?”
“About thirty minutes, if that works for you.”
“Awesome.”
Crystal had just ended the call when her phone rang again. She saw that it was Peter Ramsey, Tuck’s new attorney. “Hello?”
“Hi, Crystal. It’s Pete, and I’ve got some good news. Oregon law definitely allows alcohol consumption in assisted living facilities. Some places refuse to serve it due to risks and liabilities, and Ms. Flintlock may be within her rights to ban drinking in any public area. But Tuck has a right to keep alcohol in his private residence and have drinks if he pleases. In Oregon’s description of resident law for facilities, it says a person is free ‘to exercise individual rights that do not infringe upon the rights or safety of others.’ Flintlock is overstepping her bounds by trying to control what he does inside his apartment. The facility physician emailed me two scripts—one for the dog to visit if kept on a leash in all community areas, and another allowing Tuck to drink alcohol and have chewing tobacco. If he spits on the community floor, he’s done. If he gets drunk and causes trouble, he’s done. But otherwise he can do whatever he wants in his apartment.”
Crystal relaxed against the car seat. “Wow, I’m impressed! I didn’t know attorneys worked on Saturdays.”
He chuckled. “Normally I don’t. But this case caught my attention. My uncle is of an age to start thinking about assisted living.”
“I’m very grateful. Can you forward me copies of those scripts?”
“I already did. But I don’t think you’ll need them. I called Ms. Flintlock and told her Tuck now has orders from his doctor to drink, chew, and spend time with his dog. She’s an old witch, isn’t she? Not happy. I couldn’t see her expression, but I heard the fury in her voice. If she retaliates against Tuck in any way, call me. It’s against the law for her to do that, and I won’t hesitate to slap her with a lawsuit.”
* * *
Tanner arrived five minutes early. Crystal’s stomach jumped with nervousness when she opened the door. The man was handsome in a uniform, but he was downright gorgeous in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki slacks. She stepped back to invite him inside. He scanned the kitchen and living area with those incredibly blue eyes.
“Wow. It’s awesome in here. I expected it to be dated. Instead it’s cute-quaint but all new. Is cute-quaint even a proper description?”
Crystal held up her hands. “I hired decorators. Cute-quaint works for me.” She turned a full circle, trying to see the house through his eyes. “It is cute and q
uaint. I can’t take credit, though. The prior owners remodeled it.”
He stepped farther into the living room. “I like that they stuck with the farmhouse theme and didn’t try to modernize it too much.”
“Me, too. But it does have all the conveniences. They just did everything tastefully, getting fixtures and appliances that reflect another era.”
Tanner focused on Rip, who’d come home minutes earlier, staggered to his bed, and now slept sprawled on his back. “What’s up with him?” He held up a dog biscuit. “I came armed.”
“No need in regular clothes. It’s your uniform he hates. As for what’s up with him, I think he’s suffering from exhaustion. He ran off again. Gone half the day. When he does that, he sleeps for hours to recover.”
The kitten emerged from Crystal’s bedroom and proceeded to rub against Tanner’s ankles. “Who’s this?” He picked up the feline and studied his face. “Please tell me you named him Freckles.”
Crystal laughed. “I haven’t named him. As soon as the shelter has room, he’ll go there to find a forever home.”
“You don’t like cats?”
“I don’t dislike them. I’m just not cut out to be a pet owner.”
“Hmm. How is Rip handling his presence? Tuck told me he hates cats.”
“At first I worried Rip might hurt him. But he seems to have grudgingly accepted him. I don’t need to keep them separated, anyway, which makes it easier.”
Tanner cupped the kitten against his shirt. “So what do you call him? Kitty?”
“Mostly No Name.” It was her way of reminding herself the cat wouldn’t be staying. “A permanent name should be chosen by his forever person.”
She grabbed her purse from the table. Tanner glanced at her bare arms. “Do you have a wrap? It’ll get cool if a breeze comes up.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” Crystal hurried to her room, opened the closet, and grabbed a white shawl. As she returned to the front of the house, she said, “All ready. But I do have a request that may change our plans for the evening just a little.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to stop by Flagg’s Market and buy Tuck some contraband, two six-packs of beer and another roll of Copenhagen. He made a new friend and I don’t want Tuck to run out. It won’t cut into our evening too much if I stop by to deliver it. If you don’t mind, that is.”
“The last time I took Tuck beer and chew, I almost got fired.”
She couldn’t contain a startled laugh. “You won’t get in trouble this time.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a folded email printout. Handing it over, she said, “Prescriptions from the facility physician for substances deemed by Patricia Flintlock to be forbidden.”
Tanner shuffled through the scripts; then he held Crystal’s gaze. Her attraction to him sizzled just beneath her skin. “How did you pull this off? And will the administrator take this lying down?”
It took her a moment to find her voice. “Patricia has no choice but to allow it. I hired Tuck an attorney, who contacted the facility physician and asked for the prescriptions. He says Tuck can do whatever he pleases in the privacy of his apartment. Oregon law.”
Tanner’s bronzed face creased into a broad grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You’re amazing, and Tuck is lucky to have you. I wasn’t stuck on watching a movie, anyway. Let’s go shopping, make a delivery, and then get something to eat.”
* * *
Tanner drove a Chevrolet extended-cab pickup with after-factory running boards that allowed Crystal to climb inside with little effort. The interior, boasting buttery leather seats and dash contours, was as comfortable as her car, but it was peppered with kid paraphernalia. Tanner bent to grab a little girl’s shoe from the floorboard and threw it on the backseat. A boy’s baseball mitt followed.
“Sorry. I should have tidied up before you got in.”
Crystal realized he was nervous. That warmed her heart. Maybe that meant she wasn’t alone in feeling the buzz of attraction between them.
“Don’t fuss,” she said. “Tuck says my car looks like a moving van. I travel prepared for anything. If I go somewhere dressed up, I can be ready for a mountain hike in five minutes flat. I can also give emergency haircuts.”
He sighed. “I’m really not a messy person. It’s just that my kids shed, kind of like dogs. Snack wrappers. Hair clips. Dolls. Soccer cleats. Fast-food bags.” He sent her a sideways glance. “Mostly I cook. But sometimes on Saturdays when I’m juggling dance recitals or dental appointments with baseball games, I take the easy way out.”
“Please, just relax. I didn’t bring my white gloves.”
He leaned his head back against the rectangular rest, sighed, and stared at the ceiling. “I’m really blowing this. I’m sorry. I haven’t been on a date since I lost my wife.”
Crystal’s heart squeezed. He was so handsome. She found it difficult to see him as an ordinary guy who felt unsure of himself.
“You must miss her horribly.” The moment she said it, she wished she hadn’t. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. Of course you do.”
“Not so much anymore.” He keyed the ignition, and the truck engine rumbled. “Strike that. Of course I miss her, but it no longer casts a shadow over my world. It’s been over six years. I still think of her. But at some point, you start to heal from the pain. My life with her ended abruptly, and I’m ready now to start a new one. Does that make any sense?”
“Absolute sense.” Crystal understood better than he knew. When you lost someone, the memory of that person remained with you, but the pain did eventually lessen and fade. For most people, anyway. Crystal’s pain and sense of loss seemed to be stuck to her heart with superglue. “I’m glad you’ve healed enough to move on.”
“Forward,” he corrected. “To me, ‘moving on’ implies that I’m leaving my memories of her behind.”
The trip to the market went quickly, and in what seemed like no time at all, Tanner parked his truck in front of the facility. “So, should we keep the beer and chew hidden in bags?” he asked.
“No. Don’t misunderstand. I dislike confrontation and try to avoid it, so the coward in me wants to hide everything. But another part of me knows Patricia thrives on confrontation. Sooner or later, she’ll find out, and I don’t want Tuck to deal with her alone. She is one nasty piece of work.”
Tanner opened the rear door on the driver’s side and drew the beer and tobacco from the sacks. Standing at his elbow, Crystal said, “I’ll carry one six-pack, or everything if you prefer. I know you may feel nervous.”
He flashed her a crooked grin. “Actually, no. I’m off duty and driving my own rig, and nothing we’re taking inside is illegal.”
Crystal did feel nervous. She wanted to believe Patricia would simply accept that she’d lost this round, but judging by past experience, she knew that was wishful thinking.
“Maybe she won’t be here this late,” Tanner suggested.
“Patricia seems to be married to her job. If I come in the evening, she’s here. If I come early in the morning, she’s here. I’m starting to think she may live at the facility. Maybe that’s one of her job perks, free room and board.”
Crystal’s prediction proved to be accurate. When she and Tanner walked into the building, Patricia Flintlock stood at the front desk. Apparently, she had been haranguing Sedona. When she noticed what Crystal and Tanner were carrying, she broke off midsentence and flushed the color of a red poppy. Turning toward them, she stiffened her shoulders.
“Get that out of my building.”
Crystal braced herself for battle. “Actually, Patricia, this is merely passing through the community area, where you have jurisdiction, to my grandfather’s private residence, where, according to Oregon law, he is entitled to exercise his individual rights.”
“I said get it out!” she yelled.
“Make me.” The instant those words passed Crystal’s lips, she felt like a four-year-old. It was a childish thing for one adult to say to another one. “Please, call the cops. While you do that, I’ll call Tuck’s attorney. We’ll see how far your authority here extends.”
Patricia covered the distance between them with long, angry strides. She was a large woman with a strong build, but Crystal was tall enough to look down at her and refused to feel intimidated. “Get out!” the older woman cried. “You are henceforth banned from this facility!”
At any other time, Crystal might have let the woman bully her into leaving. But she was here for Tuck, and for Tuck, she would stay. The receptionist, now behind Patricia, was looking at Crystal with astonished respect. Crystal could have sworn the younger woman winked.
“Um, I don’t think so. Oregon law also protects Tuck’s right to have visitors of his choosing. Unless I do something wrong—like deface property, use illegal substances, disturb the peace, or something else frowned upon in any regular neighborhood—you can’t curtail my visits here. My grandfather pays rent for his apartment, and therefore it is regarded by the state as his private residence.”
“You are disturbing the peace!” Patricia accused.
“No,” Crystal replied. “I haven’t even raised my voice. You have.”
The administrator was still flushed. For an instant Crystal feared she might keel over from the heart attack Marsha had wished upon her. “This isn’t over,” she cried. “I’m calling the facility legal team. Your grandfather will be out on the street as of tomorrow.”
Crystal handed Tanner the six-pack of beer she carried and put her hands on her hips. Meeting the administrator’s gaze, she said, “That isn’t going to happen, either. It’s illegal. Without due process and warning, you can’t evict an old man. If you try, I’ll sue you and the corporation you work for, and trust me, Ms. Flintlock, I’ll win.”
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