Page 45 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“You want a speeding ticket?” Tess asks. “Public disorder? Shoplifting?”
Aaron is silent for a few seconds. “I want...something. But Gideon keeps a low profile. His social media presence is nonexistent. I can’t access his employment history.”
I stare at Aaron, whose instincts I trust. “What sense do you get from Gideon? Do you feel uneasy in his company?”
“No,” he admits.
“You get no sense he’ll harm either Kate or Lisset?” Tess asks.
Aaron rubs the back of his neck, looking frustrated. “No, I don’t. In person, he seems like a good guy and I like him. On paper, though, he’s a ghost.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
[MESSAGES]
Tess:You should chat with Grandma.
Kate:Why?
Tess:Whenever I’m confused about something, I find it helpful to talk to her.
Kate:What makes you think I’m confused?
Tess:You’re saying you’re not?
Kate:What’s your point?
Tess:I’m just saying, if you need to offload on someone, she’s the best person. More than eighty years of wisdom and experience.
Kate:I’ll think about it.
Tess:You’ll feel better. Trust me.
Early Monday evening, after I pick up Lisset from after-school care, I visit my parents. To my surprise, I’m taking Tess’s advice. My sister insisted that when she faced a crossroads in her life, Grandma gave her invaluable advice. I’m not entirely sure what advice I’m seeking, but I’m feeling unsettled and a little lost, and I could do with a good dose of my grandmother’s love and wisdom.
Everyone is gathered in the kitchen. My mom has been baking banana bread and the kitchen is warm from the oven. She cuts Lisset and me a slice each of the bread, and we eat at thekitchen table. Grandma tries to persuade Lisset to slather her piece with jam, but my daughter is rightly skeptical and insists on eating it plain. My dad’s back has thankfully improved and I’m pleased when he joins us at the table, making Lisset giggle with his awful dad jokes.
I tell them about my pancake shoot and how I had to layer aluminum foil between each pancake so the maple syrup could run down the sides easier.
Grandma gets up to rinse her plate. When she passes by Google, she can’t resist throwing out, “Hey, Google, who will be the next president?”
There’s a beat of silence while Google processes her question. “I don’t understand,” it replies.
Frowning, Grandma repeats her question. “Who will be the next president?”
“I don’t understand,” Google says again.
I know it’s an electronic device, but I swear I can hear a hint of panic in its voice.
“Leave Google alone,” Mom says.
Grandma’s stubborn streak is legendary. Ignoring my mom, she asks the question for the third time.
Google’s screen freezes.
“What have you done, Deanna?” my dad asks in disbelief.
A look of awe crosses Lisset’s face. “You broke Google’s brain, GG!”
