Page 89 of The Lookback

“Oh.” I can hear the smug smile in her voice. “Well, that’s interesting.”

“Sure,” I say. “It is, but you needed something, right?”

“I hate to ask, since I’m guessing you’re with him now,” she says. “And it’s a long story, but I’m stuck at Gold Strike, because Maren’s car needed an oil change, and then I realized I hadn’t finished the packets for the corporate retreat, so instead of waiting, Eddy drove me over here.”

“Which is how Maren was able to swipe your car.”

“She did what?”

“Maren came by here,” I say. “That’s how she—you know.”

Amanda swears under her breath. “Well. Now I’m more angry than before, but I’m still so sorry she did that. I can’t believe she’s cutting school again and acting out, but I’m also a little glad. I mean, it’ll only help us with the case.”

I sigh. “You need me to pick up Emery, right?”

“Her play practice was canceled, but she didn’t find out until after she’d missed the bus. The director’s still sick. At this rate, they’ll have to cancel the show.”

“No problem,” I say. “I’ll go get her. But maybe tell her what Maren said when she came to visit me earlier.” I’m hoping she’ll pick up on my subtle reminder to tell the girls not to be an idiot around Tommy. In this particular case, Maren’s overshare worked out, but I’d rather she not spout off about anything else. “I’ll have Tommy with me.”

“Of course,” Amanda says. “I’ll remind her to keep her mouth shut.”

When I hang up, Tommy’s watching me with dancing eyes. “You are so beautiful.”

I roll my eyes and wave one hand at him. “Stop.”

“I mean it, Mandy. In all the years I’ve been alive, I never met anyone else as pretty as you. Never.” He stands. “So we’re off to pick up a granddaughter? Or is she a grandniece? I’m not sure what they call you.”

I try not to grimace. He’s thinking grandniece, because of their relation to Jed, my deceased husband. But in reality, Emery calls me grandmother because I’m the grandmother of her heart. Adoptive, not legitimate. “Emery’s a doll. You’ll love her.”

“And she’s in a play?”

“It’s one you know,” I say. “The Christmas Carol, actually. She’s Scrooge’s love interest back in days of Christmas past.”

Tommy’s eyes light up. “No one ever seems to do that one these days.”

“Christmas isn’t PC.” I sigh. “Most of what you and I were taught is now embarrassing, outdated, offensive, or all of the above. Or hadn’t you heard?”

“It’s a real shame.”

This time, we take my car. “I doubt anyone would even produceThe King and Ithese days.”

Tommy’s shaking his head as we pull out onto the main road. “I do think it’s a shame. So many great stories that have fallen out of fashion.”

“They’re doing what we did,” I say. “Trying to make the world a better place.”

“Sometimes it feels like a place I don’t even recognize.” His voice is soft, his eyes on the road. “But when I’m here with you, it all makes a little more sense.” He drops his hand on mine on the center console. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here. I’d live in a cardboard box if that’s where you wanted me to be.”

“I do think you might be happier in Montana,” I say. “There’s no rush, either way. We can talk about it.”

“Yes, we can talk,” he agrees.

Thank goodness. We pass Dolores Jenkins’ tiny house on the way to the school, and he asks about her. I tell him about her great love and then how she lost him, and how strange she’s gotten since.

“Humans aren’t supposed to be alone,” Tommy says. “We need other humans. They tell us when we’re being crazy. They help us remember what matters.” His hand squeezes mine.

“Amanda and her kids have done that for me. Before they moved here, I was turning into a caricature of a person.”

“That’s why,” he says, as I pull into the parking lot of the school. “That’s why I can’t stay in Montana. I want to be here with you and with your people. I want to spend every single moment I have left by your side.”

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