Deconstructed

I pulled back the curtain for Bay 6 and found my grandmother wearing a floral tunic and green leggings. On her feet were the slippers I had bought her a few years ago. Kitty-cat whiskers jutted out to each side. She looked pale in the bright overhead light, a yellow cast to her age-dotted skin. Never had she seemed old to me, but at that moment she sure as hell looked fragile. “Gran.”

“Sugar, you gotta get me out of here. I’m making gumbo for Johnny’s birthday tomorrow. I have two fryers in the pot that need to be deboned.”

I almost laughed. Almost. Because this was the woman I knew and loved. No time to take care of herself, too busy managing everyone else’s lives. “I think that can wait. We need to make sure you’re okay before you go home.”

“I asked for you because I thought you would understand that there ain’t a dang thing wrong with me. Just a little episode. I’ve had them before, and they’re no big deal, but the whole family is coming over tomorrow. I gotta make some soda bread and still need to bake a sheet cake.”

“Totally understandable, but if you were having a stroke or could still be having a stroke, that might interfere with your ability to ice Johnny’s birthday cake. If you are in the clear, after they do the tests, then I will go home with you and make that buttercream frosting everyone loves and help you debone the chicken. Deal?”

She waved her hand in a disgusted manner. “Tell them to get Ed Earl. He likes cake. He’ll help me fly this coop.”

“Oh, come on, Gran, even Ed Earl is going to make you get checked out. Cake or no cake. But I can call Jimbo back.”

“No, Jimbo is an idiot,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “But I guess he’s my idiot. Fine. I’ll do whatever tests they want. But you have to come help me with the cooking. I’m getting old and arthritic, and my kitchen has missed you.”

A flash of guilt struck me, as she intended it to. It had been some time since I had sat with her at the kitchen table, sipped coffee, and spent time listening to old stories or clipping coupons from the Sunday paper. I hadn’t been to any family dinners or get-togethers, barring her birthday celebration a few weeks back. Now, looking at her so small in that hospital bed, scared of what she might learn, brashly demanding she was fine, I knew that as much as I had to let go of my anger toward Ed Earl, I also had to hold tight to what truly mattered.

My family was irritating, half-wild, backward assed, and sometimes, yeah, criminal, but they’d never stopped wanting me there with them. In keeping myself away because of Ed Earl’s betrayal, I hadn’t just hurt Gran and the rest of the clan; I had hurt myself. Because I had denied myself two years of feeling something, even if it was anger. And what did I have to show for those lost years in terms of relationships? I had been alone, determined to tear away every piece of my past. But Cricket had reminded me days ago—there were pieces of myself I needed to keep, and my family was one of those things. Pretending them away wasn’t going to make me a better person.

“Can I get you something while we wait on the results? Are you hungry?” I asked my grandmother.

“Well, I could pick at somethin’. Maybe some of those little powdered doughnuts they sell in those machines. Or a honey bun.” My grandmother lifted a cup of ice water and sipped. “Oh, and bring me a Dr Pepper. You know I hate water.”

Over my dead body. She’d just about died. Okay, not died, but if they were indeed TIAs, then they had happened for a reason. They were warning signs, and Gran was going to need to pay better attention to her health. “I’ll see what I can find.”

I slipped out of the bay and headed back toward the waiting area. As I passed the nurses’ desk, I said, “I’ll be right back.”

I entered the waiting area and was surprised to find Cricket, Griffin, and Juke—all the players in our “Blue Moon Sting,” as Cricket had called it. The woman did, indeed, love a theme. “Hey, what are y’all doing here?”

“We came to check on you . . . and your grandmother. How is she?” Cricket asked.

I felt a bit stunned that she had come all the way here on a day that was, well, important. Griff and Juke weren’t as surprising—Gran was their relative, after all. “They’re running tests but don’t seem to think she’s in danger at present. I was about to get her a snack.”

Ed Earl moved toward us, Jimbo lagging behind. His eyes moved over Cricket, who looked a bit messy but in a sexy way. Over the last few weeks, Cricket seemed to have abandoned the priss for the sass. She looked good mussed up. My uncle looked intrigued by my boss. “I can get Mama something to eat. And who’s this?”

Cricket gave him the look one might give a cockroach that had crawled onto a counter. “Who are you?”

He tried out a charming smile, which looked like he had a stomachache. “I’m Ed Earl, darling. And who might you be?”

“Oh,” Cricket said, turning away from him and training her gaze on me.

Damn. She had that society direct-cut thing down.

Ed Earl looked confused, which almost made me laugh. I glanced back at him. “Gran said she wanted a honey bun. You can get that, but it’s probably her last one for a while. The TIAs she had are like a warning buzzer going off. Gran needs to start paying better attention to what she eats and doing more walking.”

Ed Earl lifted his eyebrows, and I knew he knew what the whole family knew—we were about to battle the woman who cooked with bacon grease and kept jelly beans next to her recliner. But he did as I asked, his sidekick Jimbo following him down the squeaky-clean hall toward the room that had vending machines.

“Well, I’m glad she’s going to be okay,” Cricket said.

“As far as we know,” I amended, glancing down to where Ed Earl and Jimbo had disappeared. “So? How did everything go?”

Juke smiled. “Well, she got the signature. It may not stand up in a court of law, but the bank in the Caymans won’t know that. She should be able to recover her part, at least. May have to go down there to do it. Not sure.”

“Look, I did not lie to Scott; I just didn’t tell him what the paper was. If he didn’t read them before he signed, that’s his mistake and his problem.” Cricket crossed her arms and looked a little perturbed at Juke. Juke looked a bit like he faced a prostate exam. Griff just looked like he always did. Like he might grind someone’s bones to make his bread.

“Yeah. Right,” Juke said, withdrawing his phone. “So I think we can make that appointment with the investigators from the SEC and Justice Department. You can give them the information they need to arrest Donner and Scott, and maybe that will do a lot to help you in regard to the divorce and the recovery of the untainted money. I did some poking around. Even if they freeze your joint accounts, you can petition a judge to release your lawfully gained funds. Might be a hill to climb, but you might be able to get at it.”

Cricket lifted a shoulder. “I don’t care as much about the money as I do winning against Scott. He doesn’t think I’m smart or motivated enough to best him. I want him to know that he’s wrong.”

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