Page 64 of Betting on the Bad Boy
Meemaw nodded and continued to slurp her way through her late lunch. My mind wandered to Faith. Just the mention of her name had me practically breaking out into a sweat.
Cheryl returned with the full pitcher of water. She set it down on the table and turned toward me. “If you want to run home and grab some clean clothes or something, I can sit with her for a while.”
“Aw, that’s okay,” I said.
Meemaw sniffed the air. “A shower might be a good idea. How long have you been here?”
Cheryl sat down in the chair next to the bed. “He hasn’t left your side since they brought you in, Mrs. Bishop.”
“In that case, you’d better get out of here. Go on home and check on things for me, will you?” Meemaw narrowed her eyes. “It’ll give Cheryl and me a chance to get all caught up. Make sure the turkey is in the fridge. I should have had that bird thawing days ago. You may even have to put it in a cold water bath... it’ll probably never be thawed out in time to cook now.”
“I don’t think you’ll be cooking any turkey for the next few days,” I said. “Remember? Doctor’s orders.”
“Doctor, schmockter.” Meemaw waved her hands at me. “Go on. Get out of here. Fill up the sink with cold water and let the turkey sit in it while you get cleaned up. If you don’t want me to cook it, I’ll walk you through how to do it yourself. I promised that old coot Bugsy some of my home-cooked bird, and there’s no way my grandson is eating fast food on Christmas.”
“I’d be happy to help you cook the turkey,” Cheryl said.
I gulped, and Meemaw gave me a knowing glance. “Don’t you have plans for Christmas?” She gave Cheryl the once-over with her eyes.
“My family’s going out to my Granpap’s in Rushmoor. I have to work that night, so I was just planning on cooking up a TV dinner.”
Meemaw wouldn’t hear of someone not having a home-cooked meal for Christmas, even if she was convinced Cheryl was up to no good.
“Let’s get caught up a little before we make plans,” Meemaw said. “Go on now. Fill up the sink. The whole thing’s got to fit inside. Cheryl, hand me that paper over there, will ya? I’ll make a list while you’re gone,” she said to me. “You can pick up the rest of the stuff we’ll need from the store later.”
I shrugged into my coat and grabbed my bag off the floor. I bent down to kiss Meemaw on the head. “So good to have you back, old woman. I sure was getting lonely with no one to boss me around.”
Cheryl walked me to the door of the room. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have invited myself over like that.”
“Don’t worry about it. She’ll grill you for a bit, and by the time I get back she’ll be insisting you join us for dinner. It’ll be good for her to have something to focus on.”And I can prove to myself and her that you’ve got no hold on my heart anymore.
She smiled. “Okay, then. Drive safe and I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Thanks.” I walked down the hall and out into the cold, frozen parking lot. What the hell had I got myself into this time?
CHAPTER 33
Dante
“Not like thator you’re going to get lumps.” Meemaw sat on the edge of her kitchen chair, doing her best to direct me in the fine art of gravy making.
“Settle down. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” I lifted the spoon out of the heavy pan and licked it with my tongue.
Meemaw raised a fist and shook it at me. “Why, I’ll knock you into next week?—”
“How does the turkey look?” Cheryl opened the oven door and lifted the roasting pan out onto the counter.
Her attention temporarily redirected, Meemaw focused on the turkey. “That looks good, I suppose. Now just let it rest for a few minutes.”
I mouthed a silent “thanks” to Cheryl. I hadn’t been too excited about her joining us for Christmas, but after spending the entire day before trying to curtail Meemaw’s activity, even I was glad for the distraction.
“I think we’re almost ready.” I poured the slightly lumpy gravy into the thermal gravy boat and set it down on the kitchen table.
“I do wish we were at the center right now,” Meemaw said. “It’s so lonely with just the three of us here.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “There’s more energy between the three of us than in the whole room of folks at the center. Besides, Cheryl brought a homemade pumpkin pie. You wouldn’t want to have to share that, would you?”
“Hmpf.” Meemaw always made homemade pecan pie for Christmas. Her nose had been knocked slightly out of joint, but that was probably good for her.
