he finally said. “What exactly will it entail?”
“I know. You think it’s awful, right?”
“I’m the wrong guy to ask. The only reality television I watch is the surf report.”
“I think it’s pretty straightforward,” Jessie said, pausing to steal a sip from her tea. “Cameras will follow us around in the store a couple of days a week. And if we have any special events or anything, they’ll be there for that. Why?”
He didn’t seem ready to answer, and the clerk at the counter caught his eye. “Lunch is served,” he said. “Be right back.”
Jessie watched him saunter to the front and grab two white lattice trays, thank the clerk, and drop a couple more napkins on them before heading back to the table.
Once he returned to his chair, she told him, “Anyway, it’s not all set in stone or anything yet. But it looks pretty good. It could bring a lot of attention to the store.”
“Mm,” he muttered with a nod.
“Oh, and I set up dinner with Francesca and Rochelle at the restaurant tomorrow night. Will that work for you?”
“Sure.”
She tasted a spoonful of her soup, then watched him take a bite out of a large sandwich on thick multi-grain bread.
“Danny, is something wrong?”
He looked into her eyes for a moment before responding. “No. It’s all good.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. Unconvincingly.
Chewing, soft slurping, and the routine noises of lunch were all that broke up several minutes of silence between them. Just about the time Jessie considered wadding up a napkin and hurling it at him, she caught Danny’s eye for a moment.
“You talked to your grandfather at all?” he asked, darting his attention back to his sandwich.
“This morning. Miss Maizie was making him some oatmeal, and he wasn’t at all happy about it.”
Danny chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He wanted to go for eggs and grits, no doubt.”
“Of course,” she replied with a nod. “But Miss Maizie is making him have oatmeal at least two times a week. He’s maintaining his power by insisting she put some maple syrup over it, no two ways about it.”
“How’s he feeling?”
“Tired. I can hear it in his voice.”
“What do you think about paying him a visit?” he suggested. “Maybe for just a couple of days?”
Jessie hesitated. She wanted to see Grampy again in the worst way—as many times as possible, in fact, before the inevitable happened—but breaking away just as the store started getting its feet back on the ground made it a difficult proposition.
“Let me talk to Amber and see if she can help me work it out.”
He tipped his head slightly as if changing gears. “Or how about I go down on my own for a couple of days, and then we can maneuver something a little longer next month after you have some time to plan for it?”
Jessie left the spoon to rest inside the soup bowl and angled back against the chair. “Really? You’d do that?”
“I’d love the chance to spend some time with him,” he told her. “Maybe I can get some more information from his doctor as well. That would be helpful, right? It’s not like we’re getting any details directly from your granddad, are we?”
She chuckled. “No. We’re not.”
“I’ll call and have a chat with him this afternoon. See if he’s up for a visit.”
Jessie wiped the corner of her mouth with her napkin before springing to her feet and rounding the table. She slid her arms around Danny’s neck and clutched him, kissing the top of his head several times.
“You are a dream,” she whispered.
As the revelation hit her, she released him and returned to her chair. “And speaking of dreamy . . . did you know Rafe and Amber went out last night?”
“Went out? Why? What happened?”
“Nothing bad,” she exclaimed. “They went out together. On a date.”
Danny’s eyes narrowed, and he bore a hole straight into her. “A date.”
She nodded. “Yes.” She took a bite from her sandwich before confirming, “On a date.”
“Are you joking?”
“No. The day Jack came to the store, Amber said she thought Rafe was dreamy. He seemed to think the same thing, I think.”
“Yeah, he asked me about her.”
“He did? What did he say?”
“So you can repeat it to Amber?”
“Of course,” she cried.
“Tell you what, I’ll write it down and slip you a note after study hall,” he joked. “Then you can pass it to Amber at the beach after the last bell rings.”
“Oh, hush. So he likes her, too?”
“He does.”
“That is so cool, isn’t it?”
“Totes cool,” he cracked with his best Surfer Dude inflection, and Jessie giggled. He shrugged and admitted, “Allie speak.”
Aaron Riggs’s daughter. It sounded like her, actually. “How’s Allie doing?”
“She’s an erupting volcano of unstoppable youth. Anyway . . . you want some more tea?”
“No. I have to get back. We’re finishing last week’s receipts and then Courtney’s bringing the baby over, and we’re going to talk about this reality show idea.”
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner,” he said. “What time should I pick you up?”
“Seven. At the apartment.”
“That works.”
***
Comin’ up on nine decades o’ life makes a man purdy smart ’bout some things. Like when a boy calls and says he feels like a visit, experience tells it’s gonna be one of two things: Girl trouble or messenger boy.
“You lookin’ to take news back to Jessie ’bout her old Grampy?” I says to Danny when he calls to ask if he might come South fer a spell.
“Yes, sir,” he says back. An honest boy. I like ’at.
