then.”
“It’s a date.” When her grandmother said they would eat at eight, dinner would be on the table at precisely that time. Martha and Felix were punctual to a fault. Emma pulled her car into the driveway and went into the house through the back door. Her grandfather was sitting at the table in the bay window that formed a small alcove at the far end of the kitchen. Her grandmother’s rock garden, all ready for winter’s long sleep, was framed by large trees and a view of the hills above town.
“Morning, Granddad,” Emma said, giving him a kiss on top of the head. “Want some company on your rounds today?”
“I don’t do rounds, but I am heading out to check on Ed Taylor and maybe have coffee at the diner with another couple of old geezers. Think you can handle that?”
She slid onto the chair beside him and read the headlines in the paper over his shoulder. There was a school bond issue coming up for a vote in a few days, and pictures of the new rest rooms at the village park. The paper came out only once a week and had long ago given up reporting anything but births, deaths and school sports, along with town council news. “Yeah, I think I’m up to that. Need a lift?”
“Nope. Going to ride my bike. Might be the last nice day we get. You can use your grandmother’s bike, if you want to tag along. She doesn’t get much use of it these days.”
“I can’t talk you into a nice drive?” Emma put on her most cajoling smile, the one she’d used to get her way with him as a kid.
“Nope. Can’t harangue my patients on good cardiovascular habits and then not practice what I preach.”
“The things I put myself through to spend time with my grandfather,” Emma grumbled.
Felix gave a nod of satisfaction. “Be good for you. And just ’cause half the ride’s up hill, don’t think you’re going to get away with not telling me what in Sam hill’s going on with you and the Tubb boy.”
* * *
E MMA SCATTERED GRAIN to the fat pullets in the fenced-in run and watched her grandfather and Ed Taylor talk from the corner of her eye. Ed was tall and stooped and terribly thin. Emma didn’t think he looked well, at all. From the way her grandfather was shaking his finger under Ed’s nose, she suspected he was voicing the same opinion.
Finally Felix threw up his arms and shoved some bottles of pill samples into Ed’s reluctant hands. He snapped the lid of his old-fashioned black bag shut, settled it firmly in the basket of his ancient and highly prized Schwinn Corvette and pedaled over to where Emma was standing.
“Let’s go,” he said, his brow creased in a frown. “That damned stubborn fool won’t listen to a word I say. He’s not taking care of himself and not getting enough to eat, but he’s too damned bullheaded to get any help from the county or his daughter. Something’s wrong there, too. She’s always been good as gold at helping the old coot out, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her in months.”
Her grandfather’s gruff exterior hid a heart of gold, but he would deny it to the end and act even more cantankerous and bad-tempered if she insisted it was true. He’d developed his tough outer shell, Emma was convinced, to protect himself from feeling too much of his patients’ pain over the years, and it was second nature to him now. Her grandmother had seen through the ploy from the beginning and, Emma suspected, so had most of his patients over a half century of practice.
They rode in silence toward the village. The sun had climbed higher into the sky, but the morning was still pleasantly cool. Long wisps of clouds arched across the sky from low on the horizon—the weather change Maureen had spoken of. A cold front was coming to blow away the last of the warm Indian summer weather and usher in the beginning of a long, cold New England winter.
There was almost no traffic on the side road they were traveling. A few grasshoppers chirped in the dry grass that edged the
“It’s a date.” When her grandmother said they would eat at eight, dinner would be on the table at precisely that time. Martha and Felix were punctual to a fault. Emma pulled her car into the driveway and went into the house through the back door. Her grandfather was sitting at the table in the bay window that formed a small alcove at the far end of the kitchen. Her grandmother’s rock garden, all ready for winter’s long sleep, was framed by large trees and a view of the hills above town.
“Morning, Granddad,” Emma said, giving him a kiss on top of the head. “Want some company on your rounds today?”
“I don’t do rounds, but I am heading out to check on Ed Taylor and maybe have coffee at the diner with another couple of old geezers. Think you can handle that?”
She slid onto the chair beside him and read the headlines in the paper over his shoulder. There was a school bond issue coming up for a vote in a few days, and pictures of the new rest rooms at the village park. The paper came out only once a week and had long ago given up reporting anything but births, deaths and school sports, along with town council news. “Yeah, I think I’m up to that. Need a lift?”
“Nope. Going to ride my bike. Might be the last nice day we get. You can use your grandmother’s bike, if you want to tag along. She doesn’t get much use of it these days.”
“I can’t talk you into a nice drive?” Emma put on her most cajoling smile, the one she’d used to get her way with him as a kid.
“Nope. Can’t harangue my patients on good cardiovascular habits and then not practice what I preach.”
“The things I put myself through to spend time with my grandfather,” Emma grumbled.
Felix gave a nod of satisfaction. “Be good for you. And just ’cause half the ride’s up hill, don’t think you’re going to get away with not telling me what in Sam hill’s going on with you and the Tubb boy.”
* * *
E MMA SCATTERED GRAIN to the fat pullets in the fenced-in run and watched her grandfather and Ed Taylor talk from the corner of her eye. Ed was tall and stooped and terribly thin. Emma didn’t think he looked well, at all. From the way her grandfather was shaking his finger under Ed’s nose, she suspected he was voicing the same opinion.
Finally Felix threw up his arms and shoved some bottles of pill samples into Ed’s reluctant hands. He snapped the lid of his old-fashioned black bag shut, settled it firmly in the basket of his ancient and highly prized Schwinn Corvette and pedaled over to where Emma was standing.
“Let’s go,” he said, his brow creased in a frown. “That damned stubborn fool won’t listen to a word I say. He’s not taking care of himself and not getting enough to eat, but he’s too damned bullheaded to get any help from the county or his daughter. Something’s wrong there, too. She’s always been good as gold at helping the old coot out, but I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her in months.”
Her grandfather’s gruff exterior hid a heart of gold, but he would deny it to the end and act even more cantankerous and bad-tempered if she insisted it was true. He’d developed his tough outer shell, Emma was convinced, to protect himself from feeling too much of his patients’ pain over the years, and it was second nature to him now. Her grandmother had seen through the ploy from the beginning and, Emma suspected, so had most of his patients over a half century of practice.
They rode in silence toward the village. The sun had climbed higher into the sky, but the morning was still pleasantly cool. Long wisps of clouds arched across the sky from low on the horizon—the weather change Maureen had spoken of. A cold front was coming to blow away the last of the warm Indian summer weather and usher in the beginning of a long, cold New England winter.
There was almost no traffic on the side road they were traveling. A few grasshoppers chirped in the dry grass that edged the
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