He showed up five minutes later, moving a little slower than she’d seen so far. She stood up, kissed him on his cheek, and then watched him slide into the booth as if he hurt everywhere. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m old.” He flashed a grin.
She didn’t return it because his mirth didn’t go all the way to his eyes. “Grandpa—”
The waitress came by with a smile and a coffeepot.
“Bless you,” her grandpa said, and the woman, three decades younger than him, gave him a wink.
“Hey, sexy. Your usual?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you, doll.”
The waitress turned and headed back to the bakery display.
“What’s your usual?” Jane asked him.
“Two Danish pastries.”
“What? No. Are you kidding me? Look, I’m sure you’re on a specific diet, right? One that I know damn well can’t possibly allow for two Danish pastries.”
He waved this off. “I’m like an old phone battery, Sugar Plum. Even when I charge myself overnight for twelve hours, by nine A.M, I’m already drained to forty percent. I need the sugar boost.”
Jane gestured for the waitress. “Could we get two of your healthy start breakfasts? Hold the pastries?”
The waitress looked at Grandpa, popping her gum. “I like this one,” she told him.
“Yeah, me too,” Grandpa said. “But she’s a little bossy.”
“You could use some of that in your life.” This time the waitress winked at Jane.
Soon as she was gone, Jane turned on her grandpa. “Do you really always eat Danishes for breakfast?”
“Unless you’re here, yeah.”
She was baffled. “But you had another heart attack.”
“Yes. Had. And I’m not planning on having another unless you’re going to keep yelling at me.”
She sighed. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t eat whatever you want anymore—that ship sailed. You have to give up the crap food.”
He reached over and covered her hand in his. “You know I’m going to bite it and go to the farm someday no matter what I eat, right?”
“Yes, but not any time soon, right?”
He shrugged and dropped the eye contact. “No one knows. That’s why it’s called life.”
She hesitated. “Something’s off,” she said quietly. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Grandpa. You swear?”
He lifted a hand. “I solemnly swear. I’m fine, relax. And better yet, let me relax, okay? I’ve lived a long life, I deserve some joy.”
She stared at him. For whatever reason, she couldn’t get a bead on him this morning. She felt certain he was holding something back, but short of pushing him, which she knew would yield her nothing, she didn’t know what else to do. “Can you find joy in something other than Danishes?”
At that, he looked into her eyes again. “I can,” he said with quiet, warm conviction. “I have.”
She felt the threat of tears in the back of her throat and gave him a smile. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, Sugar Plum. To the moon and back.”
An hour later she was at work, running her butt off as usual. Halfway through her shift, she got a rare lull in patients. She eyed the screen in front of her, where she sat typing her reports. Then she looked around.