*
I ride over to the Silver Sands midmorning. I’m not ready to face Zumi yet. Maybe spending a few hours with other people will get me out of my head. I’m still feeling off balance, but I don’t need to be a genius at work. Officially I’m a gofer—here to fetch things, clean up messes, do odd jobs—though Judith says she mostly pays me for what she calls “Mel’s Magic.” I think this means me being everyone’s granddaughter who visits almost every day.
Mr. Terrance Knight smiles when I walk into the Beachfront Lounge. I recognize the question on his face. The Hanniganimal is definitely not Up, but it looks like he needs this. The whole room feels cloudy and in need of sunshine. I put on my bright smile.
“What’s it gonna be?” Mr. Terrance Knight asks me as he carefully lowers himself onto the piano bench. “Your favorite?”
“What about your favorite?”
“How about the room’s favorite?” Mr. Terrance Knight begins to play. I smile when I recognize the song, and we come in together …
“I am dreaming, Dear, of you … day … by … day … Dreaming when the skies are blue … When … they’re … gray … When the silv’ry moon-light gleams … Still I wander on, in dreams … In a land of love, it seems … Just … with … you …”
Much of the room joins in …
“Let me call you ‘Sweetheart’… I’m in love … with … you … Let me hear you whisper that you love … me … too … Keep the love light glowing … in your eyes … so … true … Let me call you ‘Sweetheart’… I’m in love … with … you …”
Everyone lets Mr. Terrance Knight and me sing the verses alone and they only sing the chorus. When we finish, we bow to the usual applause.
I gear up for another—I rarely get away with less than three—but Mr. Terrance Knight struggles to his feet and shuffles toward the window table where a couple other residents are playing cribbage. As he passes me, he gives me a look and nods toward the hallway. Standing there is the guy who chased me away from Ms. Li yesterday. Last night I learned he’s her grandson, David. He’s leaning against the wall like he’s been there awhile.
All those hours getting to know Ms. Li, we only talked about him a little. She said he was very close to his uncle Miles, her son whose heart stopped beating the previous weekend. She also said David was unhappy she moved to the Silver Sands instead of his house, but he understood her not wanting to be alone most of the time with everyone away at work and school.
He pushes off and walks over. I wonder if he’s going to snap at me again. It’s okay if he does—working here frequently makes me a target of misdirected emotions—I know it’s not personal. I just try to warm everything up, even when I’m not feeling particularly warm myself. It’s my job.
“Wow,” he says in a neutral tone. He’s doing this thing where his face is kind of sour except his eyes are open and relaxed, just like Ms. Li’s.
“Wow?” I say.
“As in, wow, you sing.”
I shrug. “Only because I love hearing Mr. Terrance Knight sing, and he won’t unless I join him.”
“Ah,” he says, as if this explains something.
He glances around, and then he leans forward, like he’s about to tell me something awkward. I feel a shot of adrenaline—is there toilet paper hanging out of my scrubs? Or worse?
He whispers, “You’re a terrible singer.”
I bark out a laugh. I hear a bit of Hurricane Joan in it.
“No, please, don’t hold back! If people aren’t honest with me, I’ll never get any better!”
David says somberly, “Glad to help.”
It’s true I’m a bad singer, but I can tell he’s just teasing. His straight face didn’t make it easy, though. I might not have realized it had I not just spent hours with his grandmother, getting a comprehensive lesson on the Li sense of humor, which clearly they share.
“Ms. Li tells me you’re a full David, not Davey or Dave anymore.” I stick out my right hand. “I’m Mel Hannigan.” I twist my other hand around to point at my name tag. “Yes, that’s my real name. No, it’s not a nickname.”
“So … you really want to shake my hand?” He says. Then, in a stuffy voice, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I drop my hand, embarrassed. Then I see his eyes crinkle …
“Oh, I get it.” I nod wisely. “You don’t like touching girls. That’s okay. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot there.”
He smiles. Then his eyebrows drop down a notch. “My grandmother says you played cards with her way past midnight. Thank you.”
“It was fun,” I say. “She’s a shark. Good thing we weren’t playing for money. I’m afraid to play poker with her.”
“Yes, definitely be afraid of that,” he says. “Anyway, I wanted to say thanks … and … I’m sorry I was a jerk yesterday.”
“I’m sorry about your uncle.”