some help. But I can’t afford to pay him much right now.”
“I don’t want you to pay him at all.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want that boy having any money in his pocket. The longer he’s broke, the longer he’ll stay put.”
“I see.”
“When it’s time to pay him . . . I’ll let you know.”
“What will I tell him?”
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll handle everything.” She finished the last of her coffee. “I’ll tell him that I’m his manager. If a boy can’t trust his grandmother, who can he trust?”
“Good point.”
“So . . . if I can get him up—and that might be like raising the dead—I’ll get some food into him and send him over here.”
“Great.” He stood up and rinsed the plate, then handed it back to her. “And thanks for breakfast. I can’t remember when I’ve had a better one.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re a sweet boy, Garrison. I sure have missed you.”
A couple hours passed before Elliott showed up at the back door—wearing low-slung pants, a ripped T-shirt, a knitted black ski cap, and a suspicious dark scowl. He looked around the kitchen with narrowed eyes. “Just what am I supposed to do anyway?”
Garrison reintroduced himself to the sulky boy, then explained his basic plans for fixing up the house. “I’ve made a long list.” He nodded to the fridge.
“This is all about cats.”
“The other list. Anyway, right now I need you to help me in getting the living room ready to paint. I want to take thedrapes down and mask off the woodwork. After that, you can attack the bathroom.” Garrison pulled a fresh particle mask out of a drawer and slipped it on.
“What’s that?” Elliott frowned. “We working with toxic stuff or something?”
“No. I just have cat allergies. I take meds, but the masks help too.” He jangled another one. “You can wear one if you want, but they get pretty stuffy.”
Elliott shook his head then rambled into the living room where the two of them started to remove the dusty drapes and drapery rods. Next Garrison showed Elliott how to mask off the wood, explaining how it was important to get it straight and seal it tight and smooth. Elliott acted nonchalant, but when he started doing it, he took the time to do it right. Garrison could tell this kid was smart. Okay, maybe he wasn’t smart when it came to life choices, but he had brains.
“Nice work,” he told Elliott when they finished prepping the living room.
Elliott just shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Actually, it’s a big deal to me,” Garrison corrected. “A lot of guys wouldn’t do it half as well. I can tell you’re intelligent.”
Elliott’s eyes seemed to light up and then he frowned again. “You mean for a black kid?”
Garrison laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Just take a compliment for what it’s worth, okay?”
He shrugged again. “Okay.”
“Now if you could go tape off the bathroom beneath the staircase”—he pointed to the door—“just like you did in here, I’d appreciate it.”
As Elliott meandered toward the bathroom, Garrison noticed a strange car in front of the house. A pair of women emerged and he felt a surge of happiness to realize that one of them was Cara. The other was a petite blonde woman. “Come in,” he called as he opened the front door.
Cara quickly introduced him to Sabrina. “As it turns out, she is interested in getting a cat,” she told him. “I hope you don’t mind that we popped in.”
“Not at all. I’d offer you a chair, but you can see there’s a shortage.”
“We just came to see the cats,” Sabrina said.
“Harry in particular,” Cara added.
Garrison went for the bag of cat treats, rattling the plastic and calling until both Harry and Oreo magically appeared. Harry, as usual, rubbed against his legs, looking up with adoring green eyes. Garrison bent down to scratch his head and chin. “Just two boys left,” he told Sabrina, “but if
“I don’t want you to pay him at all.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t want that boy having any money in his pocket. The longer he’s broke, the longer he’ll stay put.”
“I see.”
“When it’s time to pay him . . . I’ll let you know.”
“What will I tell him?”
“Don’t you worry about that. I’ll handle everything.” She finished the last of her coffee. “I’ll tell him that I’m his manager. If a boy can’t trust his grandmother, who can he trust?”
“Good point.”
“So . . . if I can get him up—and that might be like raising the dead—I’ll get some food into him and send him over here.”
“Great.” He stood up and rinsed the plate, then handed it back to her. “And thanks for breakfast. I can’t remember when I’ve had a better one.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re a sweet boy, Garrison. I sure have missed you.”
A couple hours passed before Elliott showed up at the back door—wearing low-slung pants, a ripped T-shirt, a knitted black ski cap, and a suspicious dark scowl. He looked around the kitchen with narrowed eyes. “Just what am I supposed to do anyway?”
Garrison reintroduced himself to the sulky boy, then explained his basic plans for fixing up the house. “I’ve made a long list.” He nodded to the fridge.
“This is all about cats.”
“The other list. Anyway, right now I need you to help me in getting the living room ready to paint. I want to take thedrapes down and mask off the woodwork. After that, you can attack the bathroom.” Garrison pulled a fresh particle mask out of a drawer and slipped it on.
“What’s that?” Elliott frowned. “We working with toxic stuff or something?”
“No. I just have cat allergies. I take meds, but the masks help too.” He jangled another one. “You can wear one if you want, but they get pretty stuffy.”
Elliott shook his head then rambled into the living room where the two of them started to remove the dusty drapes and drapery rods. Next Garrison showed Elliott how to mask off the wood, explaining how it was important to get it straight and seal it tight and smooth. Elliott acted nonchalant, but when he started doing it, he took the time to do it right. Garrison could tell this kid was smart. Okay, maybe he wasn’t smart when it came to life choices, but he had brains.
“Nice work,” he told Elliott when they finished prepping the living room.
Elliott just shrugged. “No big deal.”
“Actually, it’s a big deal to me,” Garrison corrected. “A lot of guys wouldn’t do it half as well. I can tell you’re intelligent.”
Elliott’s eyes seemed to light up and then he frowned again. “You mean for a black kid?”
Garrison laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. Just take a compliment for what it’s worth, okay?”
He shrugged again. “Okay.”
“Now if you could go tape off the bathroom beneath the staircase”—he pointed to the door—“just like you did in here, I’d appreciate it.”
As Elliott meandered toward the bathroom, Garrison noticed a strange car in front of the house. A pair of women emerged and he felt a surge of happiness to realize that one of them was Cara. The other was a petite blonde woman. “Come in,” he called as he opened the front door.
Cara quickly introduced him to Sabrina. “As it turns out, she is interested in getting a cat,” she told him. “I hope you don’t mind that we popped in.”
“Not at all. I’d offer you a chair, but you can see there’s a shortage.”
“We just came to see the cats,” Sabrina said.
“Harry in particular,” Cara added.
Garrison went for the bag of cat treats, rattling the plastic and calling until both Harry and Oreo magically appeared. Harry, as usual, rubbed against his legs, looking up with adoring green eyes. Garrison bent down to scratch his head and chin. “Just two boys left,” he told Sabrina, “but if
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