I pinched the little thing between my fingertips and brought it closer for a better look.
The duck had a big, bushy mustache and a cowboy hat.
“Damn, you’re right,” I said, not bothering to correcther about Wilbur being my grandpa. I held it toward her again, my eyebrows raised in encouragement.
She took it without a word and then pulled the handle and slipped out into the rain, which was more of a light drizzle now.
I scrambled out of the Jeep after her, meeting her under the awning in front of the Zinnia House entrance.
She beeped us in, and we walked inside together, then rode the elevator up to the third floor in silence.
I kept my gaze ahead, resisting the urge to steal glances at her and preparing myself to not blow what came next. It was a struggle, especially when I had to act surprised when the nurse on duty informed me that Pops was already gone.
Of course, I’d known that already. Jillie mentioned during our phone call yesterday that she and her wife Rachel were picking up Pops for a morning out together.
“Want me to hang out with you guys for a bit?” I asked Ireland after delivering the world’s most unconvincing “Oh, darn!” to the nurse.
Ireland eyed the apartment door with the same look she’d given her phone, tucking her longboard close to her like a shield.
“No,” she said eventually. “Not today.”
I nodded but stayed by the door until she knocked.
“Make sure to get your dad’s opinion on the duck,” I murmured. “I’ll see if I can find a Beck one.”
She looked at me with a faint almost-smile and nodded.
The door’s handle moved. “See you later,” I mouthed.
Her attention moved to the door after that, and I headed back to the elevator.
When I got back in my car, it still smelled like lavender. Like her.
It really was my favorite scent.
A white van with a locksmith logo on the side idled outside our house when I pulled back up, and my pulse leaped in excitement. Jillie had come through, once again, by setting this up so quickly.
Part one of Ireland’s small but practical birthday gift was a go.
The rain had settled to a drizzle as I got out of the Jeep and waved to the guy in the van. He got out without a word and matched my slow pace to the house, his tools in hand.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” I said as we took the short path. He hadn’t offered his name when I shook his hand, so I just followed his lead.
He grunted in response.
We met Delly at the open front door. She was much less like a gremlin now, in both spirit and appearance.
“The bakery will have the cake ready in thirty minutes,” she said, addressing me first, then turned her attention to the older guy beside me. “Good morning, sir. How long do you think the new lock installation will take?”
“Not too long,” he said, apparently a man of few words. “Fifteen. Maybe less.”
Delly and I shared smiles, but then hers slipped away. “I’m kinda going to miss listening to her fight the locks. It almost made her seem more… something. Or maybe less intimidating?”
My smile disappeared next as I thought that over. “I can’t decide if that’s a good word for her or a terrible one.” I could think of so many others.
The man started arranging his tools loudly, taking up space in what I took as a silent demand for us to get out of his way.
“Come on, Delly. Let’s leave him to it.”
