Jane lost the battle with her tears, as did her grandpa. They moved toward each other and held on tight for a long moment while she grappled with her emotions.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “And the answer doesn’t have to be yes.”
“That’s good, because I’m not sure how I am.” She sniffed and gave a slow shake of her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can accept your not being sure. It’s better than a flat-out no.” He looked out the window. “Do you want to talk about that handsome young fellow waiting out in the cold?”
Nope. Definitely not. She shook her head.
“Sugar Plum.” He removed his fogged-up glasses to wipe them on his sweater. “It’s twenty-two degrees outside.”
And she was wearing his jacket and hat . . . “I can’t stay.”
He nodded his acceptance of that. “Maybe next time then, you’ll let him come in.”
Was there going to be a next time? She hadn’t been sure, but now she was feeling maybe having a next time might be good. “Maybe.”
He smiled, still looking emotional. And tired. And damn, older than she wanted him to be.
“When?” he asked. “I want to write it down because if my memory gets any worse, I could plan my own surprise party.”
“Maybe we could have dinner one night after work.”
“You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there,” he said.
She nodded and then put her contact info into his phone, which made him beam so happily it gave her a hard pang. “I’m going to go before Family Feud comes on, which you used to always watch after your stretching routine. You still do that, right?”
“Yes. It’s a doctor requirement now, ever since . . .” He broke off. “Er . . .”
“Since your heart attack?”
Her grandpa winced guiltily. “You know about that?”
“Yes. Your cronies are all on Facebook. They posted pics visiting you in the hospital.”
Her grandpa looked pained. “I told them the interweb is a terrible place, and I want no part of it. I need to call Facebook and have them delete all the pictures and burn the negatives.”
“Yeah, that’s not how it actually works—”
“All the negatives!”
Because his eyes were twinkling, she smiled. But she still wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “I assume you’re eating well? Getting some walking in when it’s not icy?”
“I’m fine,” he said, waving all that off. “It’s my damn TV that isn’t. My friend Doug’s grandson is selling TVs now, and he convinced me to upgrade my system. But the buttons are too small on the remote and I can’t figure out how to do anything. I’m stuck on some sappy movie channel. I mean, what are the chances of that? I couldn’t get stuck on, say, ESPN?”
Jane walked into the living room and looked his system over. “It’s voice activated. We could set it up so you can just talk to your remote.”
“Talk to my remote?” He shook his head like she’d just said he could visit Mars.
“Almost as crazy as the Santa Claus story,” she said dryly.
He had the good grace to laugh. “I just wanted you to believe in something good.”
Her heart squeezed hard enough to hurt, but she concentrated on setting up his system and . . . failed. “Okay, I’m going to have to call in tech support,” she finally admitted.
“It’s a little late . . .”