“Long,” Tess said. “I didn’t sleep much. I took Storm for a walk early this morning, and as a bonus, I ran into Jim just as his baker was arriving with the croissants.”
“Rene makes the best this side of Quebec,” Wyatt said.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that I have eaten two this morning.”
“Now you’re just bragging.”
Tess chuckled. This man was easy to talk to. “Are you still up for a visit with your grandpa today?”
“Absolutely,” Wyatt said. “But I just want you to go in knowing that . . . well, he has some memory issues. Not Alzheimer’s, exactly, but he’s got some mild dementia for sure.”
“That’s okay,” Tess said. “I’m not expecting much. But he was living in Wharton at the time Sebastian was here. They were contemporaries and certainly knew each other in such a small town. He might have a perspective, a view of that time that my dad doesn’t.”
“I know you’re wondering about the woman, too. The one in the portrait.”
The words caught in Tess’s throat, not wanting to be said aloud. But she forced it. “Your grandfather would know if anyone went missing or died in Wharton back then. Any woman. I mean, I could research this online, but without having a specific year or name or . . .”
“I get it,” Wyatt said. “A firsthand memory would be the place to start.”
That’s right, Tess thought. But why was her stomach in knots? Why didn’t she want to know what Wyatt’s grandfather might tell her?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The ride to Salmon Bay was uneventful compared to Tess’s last drive on that road. Plows had cleared the snow, and the salt they sprayed to melt the ice had done its job. The car was rolling on dry pavement.
The Salmon Bayview complex was adjacent to the hospital and included apartments for active seniors who needed no help, those who needed some help throughout the day with things like medicines and bathing, and those who needed more help than that, including round-the-clock care. The idea was to allow seniors to stay in their apartments for the duration and let the care come to them as they needed it. A great concept, Tess thought, wondering if her own parents would benefit from such a setup someday soon.
It was just before eleven thirty when Wyatt pulled his truck into the parking lot. They thought taking his grandfather to lunch in one of the three restaurants in the complex would be a relaxed setting for their conversation.
Before they got out of the car, Wyatt turned to Tess. “I just want to make sure you’re not expecting too much,” he said. “I told you he has dementia. It’s really not too bad yet. But sometimes, he gets mixed up about things.”
“I understand that,” she said, reaching over and taking Wyatt’s hand. “I’m just grateful you were willing to do this. If he doesn’t have any insights or information for us, that’s okay. We’ll have had a nice lunch together.”
Wyatt eyed her. “It depends on your definition of nice. Be warned that you’re not going to get the best lunch you have ever had. Do not, I repeat, do not get the tuna sandwich. I’m not sure if there’s any actual tuna in it, or if it’s just tuna-flavored mayo on bread.”
Tess chuckled. “These sorts of places aren’t known for their culinary prowess,” she said. “But why? These folks should be getting the best food, if you ask me.”
“You know,” Wyatt said, “we could bust him out of here for lunch and take him to the brewpub on the main street. He’d love that.”
“I would, too.”
They walked through the doors, and Wyatt led her through the hallways to his grandfather’s room. When a quick knock didn’t get any answer, he tried the knob. It was unlocked. He pushed open the door, and they found his grandfather sitting on the couch, dressed in a crisp striped shirt that was buttoned up to the neck, a maroon cardigan, and tan slacks. His sparse hair was neatly combed, and his face was bright and alert.
“Wyatt, my boy!” he said, pushing himself up from the couch. A walker was nearby, but he didn’t use it. “Hello! Come in, come in! Who is this enchanting girl you’ve brought to my door?”
He shuffled his way toward Tess and reached out for her hand. She gave it to him, and he brought it to his lips.
“Welcome, dear lady,” he said, his eyes shining. Tess actually blushed. What a flirt.
“Pop, this is Amethyst Bell,” Wyatt said. “She goes by Tess. And Tess, this is my grandfather, Joseph Wharton.”