When we got home, Dad hung the American flag and got started with the block party preparations while I sat on the porch worrying about poor Mr. Upton and aimlessly watching Mr. Ng set up the Slip ’N Slide for the neighborhood kids.
“Dad, can I take the Prius? I want to run over to the hospital to check on Mr. Upton.”
“That’s a nice idea. Go for it.”
I wrapped some of Grandma Hosseini’s sugar cookies in waxed paper, tied them with a ribbon, and walked past Mom, who had changed into a red dress with blue stars like she had every year since the Iranian Revolution scattered her family around the world.
It was surreal to be back at the hospital, this time as a visitor. The overly air-conditioned lobby reminded me of being wheeled out wrapped in a head bandage.
When I got to the room, I grabbed a squirt of hand sanitizer from the wall dispenser and gently knocked on the half-open door. Sissy stuck her head out.
“Sadie, hello. What a nice surprise.”
“Hi, Sissy. I was just at the luncheon, and I wanted to check on Mr. Upton. I was worried about him. I hope it’s okay I’m here.”
“Of course. He’ll be thrilled.” She leaned toward me and whispered, “He’s on a lot of meds, so he’s a little loopy.”
The room was identical to my hospital room: the same watery pastel curtains, the same antiseptic smell, the same pink barf bucket.
“Stewy, look who’s here.” Sissy picked up a needlepoint of a bright blue cross. “Here, let me turn up his hearing aids.” She leaned over and gently manipulated Mr. Upton’s hearing aids.
Mr. Upton squinted his eyes. His face lit up when I moved closer to his bedside.
“Hi, Mr. Upton. I brought you some cookies,” I said loudly.
“Sadie Sullivan, our hero,” he said in a weak voice. “Come sit on the bed here. Give me the scoop.” Two delicate tubes hung out of his nose. “Don’t be shy. You can’t catch heart failure, I don’t think. Can you catch heart failure, Sissy?”
Sissy laughed. “Nope. Broken hearts maybe, but not heart failure.”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Thank you so much for nominating me, Mr. Upton. It meant a lot to me and my family.”
“That was a no-brainer. You’re a special kid.” He nodded toward the wrapped package of cookies. “How about a cookie?”
“Stewy, you’re on a liquid diet,” Sissy said, not looking up from her needlepoint.
“Oh, pshaw. I’m ninety-seven. My ticker is just about out of juice. If I want a cookie, I’m eating a cookie. Open that up.”
Sissy rolled her eyes but smiled, and I put a cookie in Mr. Upton’s frail hand. He couldn’t quite find his mouth, so I guided his hand to his lips. He bit and chewed slowly. “That’s a damn good cookie.”
He stared up at my face as he ate, studying me like he studied the peaches and snap peas.
“Sissy, go take a break. I want to visit with Sadie.”
“Actually,” I said, “I should probably go soon. I just came to say thank you and see how you’re feeling.”
He coughed for what seemed like a full minute and held his hand up. “No, don’t go. I need to talk to you.” He grabbed my arm. In private, he mouthed.
I glanced back at Sissy, who was still focused on her needlepoint, and wondered if he was going to unload some horrible secret about her.
“Hey, Sissy, I’m not in a big rush if you want to go for a walk. Seriously. It’s fine.”
She looked up. “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’d love some coffee. Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m good.” My stomach churned.
“You better not ask her to smuggle in chewing tobacco, Stewy. I’m on to you,” she said on her way out the door.
Mr. Upton stared at me. His eyes widened. “You’ve been the one all along.”
“Uh. What one, Mr. Upton?”
“Listen, go to the locker over there and get my wallet out of my pants.”
“Oh, Mr. Upton, I hope you’re not trying to give me money. I really don’t need any money.” I thought about my grandpa Hosseini before he died, always handing me twenty-dollar bills.
“I’m not giving you money. I’m too damn cheap for that.” He laughed. “I need to get something from my wallet.”
It felt like I was doing something Sissy wouldn’t approve of.
I opened the locker, felt around Mr. Upton’s deep pants pocket, and brought him his thick, weathered wallet.
“Here, give it to me.” He stuck his finger deep inside an inner pocket and pulled out an old brass key.
“This is for you.” He shoved the key in my face. “Now give me another one of those cookies.”
I put another cookie in his hand, and he took a bite. “What is this key for, Mr. Upton?”
He stared at me for a second, chewing slowly.
“Everything…” He stopped. “Everything I have, the whole fortune, is blood money.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s disgusting.”
“Um. What do you mean?”
“I mean my father was a vile man. He was a hardened criminal disguised as a dapper gentleman. He was a lizard. Even had lizard eyes.”
I nodded. I was used to my grandmothers going off on tangents. “What kind of criminal?”
“Oh, my father did things I can’t say in the company of a young lady. He was a bootlegger and a gambler. He preyed on wealthy widows, used his good looks and charm to woo them, and then robbed them blind with his lizard claws. Left them sobbing in the streets.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. I could sense his urgency, his need to confess.
“And prostitution. He was involved in that, too,” he whispered.
“Wow. That’s awful, Mr. Upton. Did you have a… What about your mom?”
“She died when I was five, bless her heart.” He stared up at the ceiling, his lips covered in crumbs. I reached over and wiped his mouth with a tissue.
“All the money I have came from his evil deeds. And I took it and played with it, instead of finding a way to make it right somehow.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mr. Upton. Whatever your dad did.”
“No. But I could have done something big with that money, something noble and good. I mean, I gave to charities, was active in the Rotary and such, but I always wanted to find some real way to redeem his evil acts and never did figure out how. I almost felt paralyzed by the whole damn thing.”
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what to say.
“Sadie, you’re a special kid. I saw that firsthand. You’re not a wimp like I was.”
Again. Didn’t know what to say.
“You’re an angel.”
I tried to distract him with another cookie, but he turned away.
“Listen.” He lifted a finger and pointed his long yellow fingernail at the key I was holding. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Sure, Mr. Upton.”
“I’m about ready to die.”
“Don’t say that. You’re not going to die.”
He held his finger up again. “I need you to do what I could never do, and find a way to make it right again. Find a way to redeem the lizard’s evil deeds.”
“Uh. Mr. Upton, I can’t—” But he ignored me, continuing on.
“There’s an old suitcase buried under a tool table in the shed near my house. Inside, you’ll find things he left behind.”
My curiosity got the better of me. “What things?”