She circles back, rewriting her script from earlier. “IfI lose”—her eyes roll like the notion is preposterous—“we play again.”
“In that case,” I say as I push the door open, “after you.”
We run into my grandfather in the tiny kitchen where he stands shamelessly eating cranberry sauce straight from the can. I’d explain his obsession with the canned dessert but Hannah’s comfortable smile is acceptance enough.
“Pops, this is Hannah. Hannah, Pops.”
She offers a shy wave. He doesn’t acknowledge it, just gives her a momentary perusal before tossing the fork in the sink and putting the half-empty can in the fridge.
“Name’s Norm. You in some sort of trouble?” he asks.
An apology presses against the back of my teeth, but I hold it in.
Hannah doesn’t miss a beat. “I wouldn’t say ‘trouble.’ More like I just needed to disappear for a little bit.”
He eyes her without a word and an unruffled expression. I’m used to the silence, but I’m hyper aware she isn’t. So I take the opening to push past the awkwardness by helping Hannah out of my jacket and hanging it on the coat rack along with the backpack.
I’m about to ask if she wants to see the view from the dock when Pops chimes in like there was no break in the conversation at all. “Well, this here is a good place to disappear.”
“Now, Norm, that sounds a lot like what someone with a black duffel bag would say.” Hannah makes a show of looking around the house.
The hand over my mouth covers my chuckle. Pops’ confusion is clear, but he moves along as if he doesn’t care enough to make sense ofher comment. He turns to me. Before he can say anything, Hannah speaks up again, serious this time. “I’m sorry for your loss, Norm.”
A single curt nod is his only reply. His eyes ping to me. “Cash?”
Unfazed, Hannah takes the dismissal in stride and heads to the living room.
I pull the envelope from my back pocket. “Still no checkbook?”
Shaking his head, he swipes the money and tosses it in the drawer behind him. “I’m sure Maggie socked it away somewhere at the city house. It’ll turn up. Told the guy I’d pay in cash anyway.”
We had a small service for Nana a couple days ago out by the dock. Friends, new and old, took turns speaking of the woman who never met a stranger. Friends from the decades she spent working as a civilian nurse at the military hospital on Fort Carson where Pops was stationed when they were younger, and then Boulder, where they settled after he left the service and she took a position at a local dialysis clinic. New friends she’d made over the past almost eighteen years since her retirement when she swapped nursing for spending time at the VFW in the name of dragging Pops along with her. All of their sentiments had one thing in common: Nana carried love wherever she went.
I shared a few of my favorite memories before Pops and I scattered her ashes in the water.
While guests lingered outside after the memorial, I found Pops rummaging around the cabin for the checkbook, claiming he needed to pay the cremation service. The payment wasn’t due for a few days, but I suspect he wanted to avoid all the tiresome platitudes.
If it weren’t for the missing checkbook, I wouldn’t have made a trip to the bank earlier. Never would have been on that sidewalk. The showstopper currently eyeing the flag above the mantle never would have barreled into my life.
“If she needs to stay the night, she can use the camper,” Pops says quiet enough for only me to hear.
Hannah has no intention of returning to the hotel or wherever the hell else tonight, she’s made that abundantly clear. But I can’t imagine she envisioned sleeping in a rundown hitch trailer. And yet, here we are.
I reluctantly nod along as my grandfather prattles on. “Keys arehanging by the door. Generator should have enough fuel to last till morning.” He pats my shoulder and heads for the bedroom.
He doesn’t get far before Hannah stops him. “Rumor has it you’re something of a chess pro, Norm.” She dips her head toward the chessboard on the table beside her. “Care to play?”
Pops holds her stare. Hannah lifts her brows. He folds his arms.
For long seconds, it’s just one stubborn will colliding with another in an intellectual game of chicken until…“Let me get my glasses.”
Pops retreats to his room, and I divide a look between his back and the elated smile on Hannah’s face. Hands clasped under her chin, she buzzes with excitement. The eyes, the curve of her mouth, the scrunch of her nose—all of it, infectious.
I help her get the board ready while we wait for Pops. This board has seen better days, but it’s been a witness to my grandparents’ entire life together. He’ll never get rid of it and neither will I.
“It worked,” she whispers, voice jubilant as she sets the white pieces and I set the black ones.
“You asked for it,” I retort playfully. When I try to meet her gaze, I find her subdued stare pinned over my shoulder.