No One Like You (16 page)

Ry gave it some thought. It had been ages since he’d played Bingo. Not since he was twelve. He glanced at Beth. “We have a free hour. It’s up to you.”

“I’m in,” she was quick to say.

Frank offered his arm to Beth, and she took it. A gentlemanly gesture. He smiled down on her. “Rylan mentioned you play cards.”

“You name it, I play it. Or I’ll learn how.”

“I play for quarters.”

“I’ll bring a roll next time.”

“We’ll get along just fine.”

Rylan packed up the box of shirts. “I’ll run these out to my SUV and be back in a minute.”

Frank nodded and included Beth when he said, “We’ll save you a seat at our table in the recreational center. Take the main hall—we’re third door on the right.”

Ry watched his granddad and Beth walk down the aisle. Frank had been an active man all his life. His steps might be slower, but he was steady on his feet. Beth listened attentively as his grandfather relayed a story. They smiled at the same time. Ry found himself grinning, too.

The moment stood out in his mind. Beth and his grandfather. It felt good, right. He carried their image with him out to his Range Rover and back inside. He found the game room easily.

A gong sounded on the hour, and the wide hallway filled with seniors, electric scooters leading the way. It appeared a parade.

Bingo drew a big crowd. No one dallied. The commotion and noise as they entered the room sounded like a bunch of kids rather than a group of elderly citizens.

A square card table stacked with laminated, large print bingo cards—black letters and numbers on a white background—stood just inside the door. The residents took their time choosing their lucky cards. Those with poor eyesight played one card while others managed more. Ella Mayberry went with twelve.

A wicker basket held jumbo erasable daubers used to mark the cards. Ry noticed the women preferred neon glitter while the men chose standard colors. Kleenex tissue cleaned the surface after each game.

Twenty long tables were placed evenly. Chairs were spaced for elbow room. Rylan located Beth and his grandfather at the second table. Beth had saved him a place on her right.

He pulled out the chair, took a seat. “Only one card?”

“I’m a guest.”

Ry grinned. “I took six.”

“I’ve no intention of winning.”

“I plan to.”

“You’re related to Frank. No one will mind if you shout ‘Bingo.’ ”

That was true. He planned to keep an eye on her card, too. Make sure she blotted all numbers called. He’d call out for her if she won. Winners got a dollar.

Morton Potter sat on the far side of his grandfather. The two men discussed the weather; moved on to the shuffleboard tournament the following week. Both were going to participate.

Ry was glad his gramps remained active.

Within minutes, two middle-aged women addressed those gathered. Social director Miriam Myers introduced herself to those she had not met. Diane Norman was the recreational therapist, and available to anyone needing assistance.

Miriam crossed to a table set front and center. She rested her right hand on a black wire cage that stood securely on a holder, making it easy to turn and mix up the wooden balls. A drop sleeve released one ball at a time.

Miriam hooked up her microphone and went on to announce the first game—a line or diagonal. She cranked the cage, and it spun. A ball soon appeared. She called out the number with the letter. The ball then went up on the master board for clarity and easy tracking.

Ella Mayberry won the first game. She filled in her Bs. Morton Potter won the next, by forming an X. The games continued.

After a while, Rylan paid minimal attention to his cards, realizing there were times when watching someone play was more fun than participating. He eyed Beth once, then twice, and found he couldn’t look away. It was self-defeating to try.

He liked the way she brushed her hair off her cheek, only to have the curls bounce back. Sometimes they covered one eye. Or tipped the corner of her mouth. Her brow creased as she squinted in concentration. The players were going for a blackout. Her hand hovered over the Os, her silver dauber poised. She dotted perfect little circles when a matching letter-number was called.

“You’re missing squares,” she told him without looking his way. Her cheeks were pink. He’d made her blush.

“How would you know?” he had to ask.

“I have excellent peripheral vision.”

So she was aware that he was watching her. Had been for a good long time. “Do you mind?”

“That you were staring?” She sighed. “Either tell me why or look away.”

One or the Other.
He chose to tell. “I was admiring your focus.”

“Which you’ve now broken.”

He smiled to himself. He hadn’t meant to rattle her, but he liked the fact he affected her. He had no idea why that pleased him so much. It just did.

“Bingo!” his grandfather called out, startling them both.

Ry jerked, and Beth nearly fell off her chair.

He leaned around Beth. “Congratulations, Gramps.”

“Not me, son. Our Beth.”

Our
Beth. Frank had already taken to her. Rylan’s chest tightened. He didn’t want his granddad to get too attached. Her stay in their town was short-lived.

Beth looked down on her card. It wasn’t fully covered. She had three spaces open. “I’ve several squares to go,” she told Frank.

“I kept an eye out while my grandson was distracting you.” Frank dabbed blue ink on the clear spaces. “You won, girl, despite Rylan’s flirting.”

“Flirting?” Her voice was soft, unsure. “A man like Ry doesn’t flirt with a girl like me,” she corrected Frank. “I work for him only.” She stood then and walked her card forward to be verified.

Rylan was stunned by her comment.

Frank, not so much. “You were dallying.”

His stare made Ry uncomfortable. His gramps knew him better than his parents. Even his own brothers. He never judged or criticized. He was always supportive.

Rylan couldn’t hide anything from him. “It didn’t mean anything.” Or did it?

“Maybe not to you, but perhaps to her.” Frank set down his dauber, snagged a Kleenex, and cleaned his card. “Beth is a sweet girl; she has a tender heart.”

“You learned that in thirty minutes?”

“I listen when someone talks. There’s always an underlying message.” He paused, added, “What you see as casual, she may take seriously.”

“Are you lecturing me, Gramps?” It would be a first. Ry wasn’t offended, just curious.

“Merely giving advice. Take it or leave it.”

One or the Other.
Frank was seldom wrong. He saw people and situations from all angles. He’d raised concern because he cared about Ry. And Beth apparently, too.

“Point taken,” Ry said.

Beth returned to their table a moment later. She waved a single dollar bill at him, smiled. “I’m the blackout champion.” It was the last game of the day.

The social director walked around the room, collecting the cards and daubers. The residents headed for the door. It became a race. Two ladies interlocked the legs on their walkers. Two men on electric scooters collided at the exit. Fortunately no one was hurt.

“They’re headed to the television room,” Frank explained. “
Forever and a Day
is about to start. The soap opera is as old as we are. It started out on radio in nineteen thirty-two, then went to TV. Ella Mayberry heard the very first broadcast.”

Rylan grinned at his granddad. “I didn’t take you for a fan.”

“My wife got me hooked when we were first married,” his grandfather admitted. “I’ve followed the show ever since.”

Beth opted into the conversation. “I left the show when sisters Betsy and Clara Walton became pregnant.”

“By the same man.” Frank knew the story line. “That episode was”—he mentally calculated—“six or seven months ago.”

“Seven,” Beth told him. Her voice was soft, nostalgic, as if she’d counted each passing day.

“The show moves slowly,” Frank said. “Come join us anytime. You know where to find me.”

“I’ll see you soon,” said Beth.

Rylan gave his grandfather a hug. Frank felt thinner than Ry last remembered. His shoulder blades seemed sharper, too. “See you at my picnic?” He wanted to be sure his granddad would attend.

“I’m riding with Shaye and Trace.” Frank took his leave.

Rylan watched his grandfather until he cleared the door.

“You look worried,” Beth commented.

Ry was honest. “He’s getting up there in years.”

“We all age.”

True.
“He likes to stay busy.”

“He’s also competitive. He’s out to win the shuffleboard tournament. He has a side bet with Morton.”

Ry understood competition. He’d like to watch his gramps compete, if time allowed. He turned to Beth “Ready to head home, Bingo champ?”

“Champ . . . I’ve never won anything.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes . . . it does.” Her smile lasted all the way home.

Beth gasped when they pulled into the driveway at his cottage. “The fence is up!” She was so excited that she hopped from his Range Rover before he’d come to a full stop. She walked so fast to the side of the house, her feet barely touched the ground. She clutched the six foot chain-link as if it was a personal gift, and not solely meant for his dogs. “They’re going to love it. I bet Atlas watched the men work from the window. Can we let them out now?”

Rylan was impressed by the fence. Aidan’s men had worked quickly and done a great job. He owed his brother big time. They would settle up soon. For now, his dogs would enjoy their freedom. They would still get their walks, but the fenced area was large enough for Atlas to run. Or at least gather speed down the straightaway.

“The fence was your idea,” he said to Beth. “Introduce the dogs to their new yard.”

She dashed into the house. Her skirt swayed and the heels of her boots tapped on the hardwood floor. He went in behind her. Atlas woofed his greeting, then nudged her for attention. Rue and the dachsies gave her love, too.

His dogs came to him second. Ry found it amusing. He scratched their ears and under their chins. “Lead the way,” he said to Beth.

She whistled and became the Pied Piper. Rylan pulled his iPhone from his pocket and started the video. This was a memory he wanted to capture. Atlas was bucking and bouncing and Rue was barking at him to behave. Too darn funny.

Beth reached the kitchen and cracked the side door that opened into the fenced yard. “Ready?” She built the anticipation.

Atlas howled. He was tired of waiting.

She swung the door wide and stepped back. Atlas shot out as if he were blown from a cannon. Rue went more slowly. Nathan and Oscar were cautious on the steps. Atlas had run a dozen laps by the time the other three realized their freedom. They all began to play. They looked like children on a playground. Tugging ears, nipping feet, and chasing each other. Ry filmed every minute.

He turned his iPhone on Beth. He found her leaning against a fence pole, her shoulders slumped, and her hands covering her face. Her posture was familiar, but he couldn’t place the pose.
Where?
he wondered.
The Gallery Walk?
Possibly. The moment eluded him.

She glanced up then, all teary-eyed and happy. He hadn’t realized a simple fence could draw such strong emotion. Her sensitivity touched him. She was genuine and compassionate, always looking out for him and his dogs. He was glad he’d agreed to the enclosure.

“They’re having a great time,” she said, her words watery.

Atlas was presently on his back, his legs pointed toward the sky, as the dachshunds climbed on his belly and rolled off the other side. Rue lay under a tree. Peaceful.

Ry realized he was content, too. It was a nice feeling, and one he’d never shared with anyone outside his family. “Should you have any more suggestions on home improvement, let me know. I’m open.”

“Furniture?” she asked him.

He replied, “Overstuffed and comfortable. Dog resistant.”

“I’ll offer you options. Before or after the picnic?”

“After. I want to be the one to break in my new couch and chairs. Otherwise Halo and Landon will leave their butt prints first.”

Beth understood. “They tend to make themselves at home.”

Atlas’s ears pricked, and he barked.

Ry listened, too. “A vehicle’s pulled into the driveway,” he said, leaving the backyard for the front door.

Four-fifteen, and his abstract painting had arrived. Two men carried it into his living room. They carefully unboxed
Azure
.

“Which wall?” the taller of the two asked him.

Ry debated, then called for Beth to ask her opinion. “What do you think?” he asked when she joined him. The dogs followed her inside.

She did a full circle. Thoughtful. “South wall. The abstract is big and needs plenty of space to show off the colors.”

“Good choice,” he agreed.

The installers hung the painting.

Once the men departed, Rylan shoved the lopsided sofa across the room. He motioned for Beth to sit with him and admire his new acquisition. He took one end of the couch and she was about to take the other when Atlas dove onto the cushion Beth had chosen. The only spot that remained was beside Ry. She eased down slowly. The golden and the dachs settled on their dog beds.

Their sides touched. Her arm rested against his. Their hips bumped. Their thighs brushed. Atlas stretched out farther, and Beth was pushed closer to Rylan. Her softness pressed him fully. Ry cast Atlas a look. The big dog’s head bobbed. Rylan swore Atlas had planned the seating arrangement. The Dane was sneaky smart.

Sitting next to Beth was nice. Together they shared
Azure
. Even Atlas had his eye on the abstract, but his attention didn’t last long. He’d gotten his exercise in the yard and settled in for a nap, dropping his head onto Beth’s lap. Closing his eyes.