Brainy and the Beast (19 page)

Henry was amused, even though he was nice enough not to guffaw in my ear. “I see. If your father doesn’t mind, I’d certainly be happy to help you prepare.”

“You’ve already cooked for us—what? Three times. I don’t want to make you work again.”
Please disagree with me.

“Not at all.”

Score!

“I’d love to have the chance to prepare a big holiday meal. I haven’t had the pleasure very often. In fact, now that I think of it…”

I leaned against the counter, and my brow wrinkled as his voice trailed off. “Now that you think of it?”

“I guess it’s been since I lived at home with my parents. That’s the last time I prepared Thanksgiving dinner.” Henry sounded surprised.

“You mean you haven’t been with your family since then?” Wow.

“No. I’ve seen them for the occasional Thanksgiving or Christmas. It’s just that we’ve usually gone to a restaurant.” His voice got more animated. “It would be amazing to be able to do it start to finish in your kitchen.”

“You sure, Doc? It’s a lot of work.” I couldn’t see myself volunteering to do it for someone else, let me tell you.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. It will be a real treat for me. What will you be serving?”

I listed the basics that we’d been having since my mother had died. “One of those turkey breasts from the Jewel grocery store that’s already roasted. Instant mashed potatoes. Boxed stuffing. Gravy from a jar.” When I put them into words, it sounded kind of bare.

“Oh, my.”

Really bare. “Yeah. It does sound pathetic, doesn’t it? You might want to change your mind.”

“Oh, no, Nicholas. I’ve gotten myself an invitation for Thanksgiving dinner at your house. I’m sticking with it. But, if you don’t mind,” he tiptoed a little, “I’d love to offer some ideas to fill out the menu.”

I laughed. “Seriously. Whatever you say will be fine, I have no doubt. After tasting your cooking, I know it’s going to be good. Just tell me what to buy at the store. I’ll probably go there tomorrow.”

“How about if I pick you up tomorrow morning and we go together?”

Grocery shop? Together? Like a couple? “Uh. Okay.”

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

* * * *

Henry was punctual, which didn’t surprise me in the least. The dogs heard his car before I did, and they sounded the bark alarm with gusto.

“Hey.” I walked toward the living room as I called out. “I’m going to Jewel. You need anything?”

My dad had just settled into his recliner, and he was sipping the decaf coffee the cardiologist had mandated. I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling when Dad made a face at the taste. “Dad. No way you can tell that’s decaf.”

Lip curling, he took a sip before he answered. “Oh, yeah? You try it; then you can tell me what it tastes like.”

I manfully swallowed my laughter. “Uh-huh. Maybe later. You need anything from the store? I’m going to pick up your prescription refill while I’m there.”

He scrunched his face in thought. “Hmm. I don’t think so. Are you going to get the stuff for Thursday while you’re there? Store’s going to be busy later this week.”

“Yeah. But this year, we’re in luck.” At his arched brows, I happily continued. “Henry says he’ll cook dinner for us. Can you believe it?”

“Really.” He took another sip of coffee as he considered that. “That’s mighty nice of him. How’d you get him to do that?”

I heard Henry’s brief knock at the mudroom door. “Don’t give me that suspicious look. He offered!” I could do innocent when I needed to. “Come on in!” I yelled.

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t prompt him at all?”

“No! Well, kind of.” I darted a glance at the kitchen doorway, but Henry must have been stopped by the dogs. They were making a little racket, but they’d been getting to know my guy and were cool with him. Mostly. “Maybe I did kind of hint that he’d be in for some tasteless slop if he came over.”

“Good job.”

My dad and I eyed each other knowingly. “Oh, yeah.”

“Gramps.” Grant clattered down the stairs, his big feet smacking the treads as he descended. “Oh.” His forward momentum stopped abruptly when he caught sight of me.

“Hey, kid.”

My dad snapped his fingers. “Hey. I just thought of something. Maybe Grant wants to help you and Henry make dinner on Thursday. He should go shopping with you.”

Jaw slack, I had to wonder what in the hell the old man was doing. If he was plotting with that crazy idea of his again… I narrowed my eyes at him.

Grant’s protest was almost immediate. “Gramps, I was going to go to the
dojang
and practice.”

Man, the kid could whine. “Dad. If the kid wants to go practice, who am I to stop him?”
Dodged a bullet on that one.

Uh, no. I celebrated too soon. My dad lifted a hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. I braced myself. Lately he’d begun playing the cardio card, as I liked to call it.

“Boys. I may not be around much longer.” I groaned, but that didn’t stop him. “I’d like to celebrate this Thanksgiving knowing you two are getting along.” He swung his gaze from me to Grant and back again. “Is that too much to ask?”

“But, Gramps—”

“Dad—”

Grant and I spoke at the same time.

“I don’t mind.” Henry spoke from the doorway.

“Great. Another country heard from.” I didn’t even know he’d come through the kitchen. I frowned at him, wondering what the hell he was thinking. He didn’t even like the kid.

“Geek.” I heard Grant mutter it under his breath.

“Antisocial militant.” Clearly Henry’s hearing was as good as mine.

Okay. At that, I had to laugh. The two of them were like fifth graders. “Boys, boys.” My dad and I shared a look, and it made me feel good to see him laughing again. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal to include the brat. “Grant. How about you hold off going to practice, and we’ll drop you there after we go to the store?”

He and Henry were still squared off, snorting and snarling, reminding me of Rum and Coke when rawhide was involved. I bit my lip. “Guys. Each of you head to your corner.”

Henry looked at me in confusion, the boxing metaphor going right over his head.

Grant just shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered, “Whatever.”

“Okay, then!” My dad rubbed his hands together. “How about you bring back some fancy stuff so we can have a Thanksgiving the way we used to, when your mother was still here?”

“Put a little pressure on us, why don’t you?” I wasn’t sure we could pull that off. Although to tell the truth, Henry
was
a damned good cook.

Seeing my dad look happy, even as he took another sip of the hated decaf, made me think that whatever it took to make this holiday a good one, that’s what I’d do.

“Come on, guys.” I pulled my heavy coat out of the closet. “I want to stop by the shop too.”

* * * *

“Now, I need to find morels.” Henry searched along the produce aisle, poking with his finger here and there, testing God knew what about the vegetables. “I’m not sure this store will have them.”

“What’s a morel?” I wanted to know.

“It’s that snake that swims in the ocean. And no way am I eating one.” Grant was very definite on that.

Grunting, Henry barely looked at us as he picked up something red. I had no idea what it was. “For a supposedly smart student, you’re a little off on your biology. A morel is a mushroom. A moray is an eel.”

I could see Grant’s expression at Henry’s lecturing tone. “Easy there, kid. I don’t think he meant it that way.” I turned my head. “Did you?”

“Hmm?” Lifting the red thing up, Henry peered closely at it. “Did I what?”

“Doc. Over here.” I snapped my fingers, and Henry’s gaze obligingly followed my hand. “You weren’t being snotty to the kid, were you?” At the quick guilty look my lover sported, I raised my brows. “You were.”

“See! I told you.” Grant crossed his arms over his chest, looking mulish.

I raised my eyes to the ceiling for a second. “Um. You and me? We’re the adults here, remember? And what the hell
is
that thing?”

Henry set the damned red vegetable back in the bin. “It’s a beet. And you’re entirely correct, Nicholas.” He turned to face Grant, meeting my nephew’s gaze. “My apologies. It was absolutely juvenile and not worthy of me. I guess I’m still a little put out that your seventh grade science class had studied something I missed.” He held out a hand. “Rather adolescent of me, wasn’t it?”

I had to nudge Grant into stepping forward. “Take the man’s hand.”

Slowly, Grant accepted Henry’s hand, and the two of them shook. “’S okay, dude.”

“Thank you.” Henry relaxed into a genuine smile, and I couldn’t help my automatic smile in response. “Now, is there something you’d like to see on the menu, Grant?” He pulled out his list, which as far as I could tell, had a hell of a lot of writing on it.

Go Henry. He was being so nice now.

Grant shrugged and mumbled something toward the vegetables.

“Got to be something you like to eat.” I propped an elbow on the shopping cart handle.

“Um. Well, I did kind of like—”

“Yeah?”

“Cornbread, okay? I liked the cornbread.”

“Oh. That’s right. I cooked some for breakfast that morning your grandfather was in the hospital.” Henry nodded, looking pleased. “I love to make that from scratch. That’s a great idea.”

An idea occurred to me, and I wondered if I dared. “Um, guys?” They both swung their gazes to me. “How about if you two finish all this”—I waved at the long, long list in Henry’s hand—“and I can run over to the shop and check with the boys.” I told myself I didn’t feel at all guilty.

Now it was Henry’s turn to eye
me
knowingly. “I believe your father wants you and Grant to spend time together.”

Yeah, he did. Problem was, Grant didn’t exactly embrace that idea. “Well, yeah, but—”

“Forget it, dude. Uncle Nick doesn’t want me around.” Grant’s face was hard to read.

Shit. Goddamn
. “I do not! I mean, I do—want you around, that is. You don’t want to be around me!” I glared at him.

The kid actually snorted at that. “Says who?” Now he looked angry.

“Uh, you. When I walk into the room, you walk out. I ask you to spar, you’re going to the dojang. I want to come to your game, you tell me don’t bother.” I couldn’t believe I was getting into all this in the middle of the goddamned grocery store. I also couldn’t believe the hurt feelings that were pouring out of me.

“I didn’t tell you not to come to my game!”

“Um, gentlemen?” Henry’s voice was tentative. “You’re both getting a little loud.”

I hunched my shoulders a little and spoke in a harsh whisper. “When I called you and told you I was running behind for that last game two weeks ago, you said to forget it!” I was fuming, because the kid had most definitely blown me off.

“Duh! It was halftime, and you said it would take you another half hour to get there. The game would have been over by the time you came.”

Oh.
Ohhh.

“Something I can help you find?”

The very official-sounding voice came from behind me. I jerked around to face the store manager. Or damned sure somebody who looked like he was in charge. Oops. “Um. Oh. Sorry. We were just…“ Just what? “Um, I wanted to… Grant and I—”

This big guy looked like he’d probably come up the hard way, unloading stock trucks, and he gave me a pointed stare. It was then I noticed the group of shoppers who had stopped to watch us air our dirty family laundry.

Great. Another first for me. I was about to get bounced from the frigging grocery store.

Henry came to the rescue. Again. “Yes, actually. I’m glad you’re here.” He cocked a brow at me, then focused on the manager again. “I’m looking for morels. Do you carry them?”

With another warning glare at me, the manager nodded. “Certainly. Right this way.”

“There’s a Starbucks café here.” Henry motioned toward the far end of the store. “How about if I meet you over there in a bit? I can work on my list while you two…talk.”

As Henry followed the manager toward another bin in the vegetable section, Grant and I avoided looking at each other. I reminded myself of my own words. I was the adult. Apparently.

“Um, you want to get something over there?” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

Grant shrugged, eyes on the floor.

Well, that wasn’t a no. “Okay.” I started walking, hoping he’d follow. I tried to watch out of the corner of my eye as I slalomed around the sales bins along the front of the store and found myself almost running into a big display of pumpkins, cornstalks, and some other crap. “Guh.” I grabbed a big orange monster before it could roll off.

Grant’s snicker assured me he was right behind.

I could make him laugh. I guess that was a start.

We stepped up to the ordering counter at the in-store café, and I recited my plain old standard. “I’ll have a large coffee of the day.” When my nephew grunted beside me, I frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Right. Nothing. What do you want me to order?” See me? I could ask a question now and then.

“I don’t know.”

The teenager behind the cash register watched us with a bored expression, so I decided to hurry this up. “Well, what are you having?”

“Grande vanilla bean Frap.” Grant recited that without hesitation.

I must have looked puzzled, because the cashier rescued me. “It’s an iced drink made with milk and vanilla beans.” Her expression told me I should have known that.

“Oh. Okay. We’ll both take one of those.” Whatever. Anything so that the two kids didn’t look at me like I was from Mars.

The bored teenage barista wasn’t exactly going to break the land speed record for drink prep. When the icy drinks finally came up, I slid the first one to Grant.

“Uh, thanks, Uncle Nick.” He shoved the straw into his drink and took a long swallow.

I paused. “You’re welcome.” Kid had manners, anyway.

The store was crowded, but there weren’t too many people in this little café, so I walked over to an empty table in the corner, by the windows.

I took a cautious sip of my drink, conscious of Grant watching me. The burst of creamy vanilla on my tongue was surprisingly good. “Huh.” I took another, larger swallow. “This is kind of good.”