Page 67 of Just Beachy

“I’m a cop. Protecting people is my job. It doesn’t make me a control freak. It makes me well prepared.” He flashes me a smile.

When Luke and I walk outside with our arms around Grand (she refused to be seen in a wheelchair), a fleet of news vans are waiting. Cameras track our every move while reporters beg for statements, and on-camera talent and their producers try to convince us to stop for interviews.

With Luke as our escort, we walk as quickly as Grand can move. When we make it through the gauntlet to the Treasure Island squad car, Luke gently places Grand in the back seat and fastens the seat belt around her. I slide in beside her. When Luke slams the car door shut and climbs into the front passenger seat, I realize that Grand and I look as if we’ve just been arrested.

When we reach Grand’s town house, Luke jumps out, helps Grand out of the back seat, and escorts us to her front door. “I’ve arranged for a few of my friends to stand guard at Grand’s until things quiet down. They’ll hold the media back and keep an eye on things in general. I’ll be over to check on you as soon as I can get away. But call or text me immediately if anything feels the least bit off.”

We both nod obediently. Then we each give Luke a hug and our thanks. When I’m finally able to let go, I follow Grand inside and send a silent thank-you to Cassie Everheart for all the things she taught me.

Thirty-Two

“So,” I say to Grandas soon as we’re inside her town house with the front door locked behind us. “You need to tell me whereThe Madonnais. And you need to do it right now.”

“But—”

“No, no buts. Clearly, it’s hidden somewhere that no one, including me, could figure out.”

“I was just trying to protect you.”

“Well, I think that ship has sailed. Is it here in Florida? Or at your place in Atlanta? Or in some kind of safe-deposit box? Does it even exist at all?”

Grand sighs. Her shoulders sag. For a moment I almost feel guilty for pressing her on this after all she’s just been through. But not knowing whereThe Madonnawas hidden proved to be just as dangerous as knowing, maybe even more so.

“Seriously, Grand. You know the media is already all over this. There’s no way Mom isn’t aware of what happened. If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to call her and ask her to fly down immediately to deal with you herself.”

This time her sigh is far more heartfelt.

“I mean it, Grand. No amount of sighing is going to stop me from telling her how much we need her. In fact, I think we should call her right this minute to find out how quickly she can get on a flight down.” I pick up my cell phone to prove that I’m serious.

“No. There’s no need for that. And I don’t need to tell you when I canshowyou.” She motions me to follow her up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she leads me to her dresser. Carefully she pulls open the middle drawer, which is filled with bras and what can only be called “granny panties.”

“But this is your underwear drawer.”

“Exactly.” She pulls out her underclothes and sets them on top of the dresser. “I figured even thieves would be reluctant to handle an old woman’s underclothes. Then she reaches into the empty drawer, removes what turns out to be a false bottom, and pulls out a rolled-up canvas, which she places face up on the bedspread, securing the corners with bed pillows.

When I look down intoThe Madonna’s face, my grandmother’s eyes, young and mischievous, stare up at me. A soft smile tugs at her lips. Anyone who knew my grandmother at this age would have recognized her. In thebottom-right corner, where she always signed her work, Phillip Drake’s signature is painted over a patch of dark paint.

• • •

Five days later,Grand’s town house has begun to feel less like a haven and more like a prison.

For the first few days after Grand revealed herMadonnato me, we were content to lie around, protected from the horde of reporters by off-duty friends of Luke’s.

“I don’t think I’m winning any neighbor of the month awards,” Grand observes as she peers out the kitchen window to her driveway, where reporters continue to jostle for position.

“I don’t know, I think your neighbors have been pretty understanding, considering what’s been going on out there.”

“True,” she concedes.

“And after her initial freak-out, Mom’s done a lot better than I expected.”

“Also true,” Grand agrees. “I was afraid she was going to insist on coming down.”

I keep waiting for Grand to break down or wake up in the night screaming, but while she’s tired and a little more tentative than usual, I’m the one who can’t seem to let go of what happened. Or the guilt I feel for allowing it to happen at all.

“I don’t get it, Grand. How can you be so calm? You must have been scared to death when they snatched you.”

“It was definitely frightening, sweetheart,” she admits.“But it isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I was betrayed by the man who claimed to love me. Then I lost the man I shared my life with and loved completely.” She smiles. “People threatening my life?Scary.But I’ve lived a long and mostly wonderful life. I’ve done the things I wanted to. Fulfilled pretty much every one of my dreams. While I’m hugely relieved that we both made it out of there in one piece, I’m notafraidof dying. I’d rather go out when I’m still me than linger until I’m someone no one, including me, recognizes.”

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