“I go by Joe,” he said to Tess. “My friends call me Joe.”
“Joe it is,” Tess said.
“How about getting some lunch at the brewpub downtown?” Wyatt asked. “We’ll bust you out of this joint for the afternoon.”
Joe’s face lit up. “Wonderful!”
Wyatt found his grandfather’s coat and boots and helped bundle him up as though he were a little boy. As Tess took in the sight, she found there was indeed a childlike innocence on the old man’s face. An almost vulnerable look of excitement and joy in his eyes. It made her own sting with tears. She turned and quickly brushed them away.
“Where’s my hat?” Joe asked.
Wyatt reached into the closet and found a wool herringbone cap that reminded Tess of something you might have seen on a Scottish golf course a century ago.
Joe popped it on his head and grinned. “All set!” he said. “Let’s go!”
“Do you want your walker, Pop?” Wyatt asked.
Joe waved his hand. “I’ve got you next to me. Don’t need that old thing.” He turned to Tess and said in a stage whisper, “The ladies will think I’m old if I use a walker.”
Tess chuckled.
Wyatt locked the door behind them, and Joe took his arm. The hallway was long, but the old man’s pace was surprisingly swift for someone in his nineties. When they got to the front desk, he smiled brightly at the woman sitting behind it.
“There she is!” he said to her.
“Where are you off to, Joe?” she said with a big smile on her face. Tess got the feeling that was how most people reacted to Wyatt’s grandfather. His positive energy was infectious.
“These two kids are taking me to lunch,” Joe said. The pride in his voice tugged at Tess’s heartstrings. “At the brewpub downtown!”
“I love that place,” the woman said. “They have great burgers.”
“I’ll sign him out, Connie,” Wyatt said.
She nodded, sliding a clipboard toward him. “And in, when you get back,” she said. “You know the drill by now, but every now and then people forget to sign in, and the staff has to go looking for a resident.”
“You don’t want anybody MIA,” Wyatt said, raising his eyebrows.
“No, indeed,” Connie said. “Have a nice lunch, Joe!”
Joe waved at Connie as Wyatt trotted off to the parking lot. Tess waited with Joe inside the vestibule. He watched intently as Wyatt made his way to the car.
“Here he comes,” Joe said. “He’s coming right now.”
“He sure is,” Tess said, patting Joe’s arm.
After Wyatt pulled up to the door, Tess helped Joe into the front seat and hopped into the back. The same arrangement happened in reverse when they reached the restaurant, just a couple of blocks away. Tess helped Joe out of the car and then stayed with him while Wyatt parked the car. It takes a village, she thought.
Inside, Tess saw that the pub looked like it might have been transported from old-world England. A huge wooden bar dominated the room with an intricately carved bar back, bottles gleaming on shelves above it. Booths with black-leather seats lined the walls, and heavy wooden tables and chairs with the same black leather sat in the center of the room.
Tess couldn’t remember ever having been there—with so many great restaurants in Wharton, she had never made the trip. She settled Joe at one of the tables, easier to get into and out of a chair rather than a booth, and hung up his coat, along with her own, on the close-by hook on the wall.
When Wyatt joined them, Joe asked, “Can I have a beer?”
“Hell yes, you can have a beer, Pop.” Wyatt grinned at him. “Two, if you want.”
Their server appeared and they ordered their lunches—split-pea soup for Joe, a burger for Wyatt, a French dip for Tess. When their drinks arrived, Joe held his aloft.
“Happy days,” he said.
“Happy days,” Wyatt said, clinking glasses with his grandfather and Tess.
What a beautiful toast, Tess thought. It said it all, everything important, in two little words.
Joe turned to Tess. “Speaking of beer, did I ever tell you about the time I broke my leg and wound up in the hospital here in Salmon Bay and my best friend smuggled some beer into my room?”
“No!” Tess said. She leaned forward and put her elbow on the table, resting her chin on one palm. “What happened?”
Joe went on to relate how he had been playing high school football back in the 1940s and broke his leg after getting tackled on the field. He was taken to the hospital just down the street from where they now sat, which was run by nuns at that time. He remembered everything—how his best friend came to the hospital with a six-pack, and how one of the nuns discovered it.