Page 40 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

“Like an after-school boxing program?” I made a face. “No offense, but she’s not the type. She doesn’t like to sweat.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m sure I can come up with something that’ll work. I might not be great at dealing with grandfathers, but surly teenagers I can do.”

***

Greg’s advice about Bella worked much better than I expected it to.

It wasn’t as if she texted back immediately, or even the next day, but I was sitting over a plate of Lean Cuisine Alfredo on my lunch break a few days later when I heard my phone buzz.

did you find my old Ouija board?? the one you said you couldn’t find?

My eyes widened at the sight of that text, an unprecedented event under most circumstances, and downright suspicious when the last fifteen texts I’d gotten from her were one syllable long.

“What’s wrong?” Greg asked from his side of the table. He was eating one of my famous hand-pressed ham paninis with cheese oozing out the sides.

“It’s from Bella. She wants to know if I found the missing Ouija board. And before you laugh, it’s the only game we own, so I had to pick that one. We’re not a Monopoly sort of family.”

A grin touched his lips, and he took another big bite of the sandwich. “Told you. Works every time.”

“How should I respond?” For some strange reason, my hands were shaking. “Do I play it cool? Lie? I don’t think you understand, sheneverreaches out to me. Not if she has literally any other option.”

If he noticed the way my voice cut out toward the end, he didn’t let it show.

“What’s your goal?” he asked.

“My goal?” I blinked. The answer to that should have been fairly obvious: a relationship with my daughter. For her to spend one weekend under my roof without running away like it caused her physical pain. “I don’t know…for her to answer, I guess. And tokeepanswering.”

Even as oversimplified a response as this one was hard for me to get out, but Greg didn’t seem to think less of me for it.

“Then make sure there’s always an opening. Something she won’t be able to put a lid on.” He polished off the rest of the sandwich in three easy bites. “Kids are curious little bastards, even though they’d rather die than admit it. I once broke my tibia during a training session—bone sticking out of my leg, blood everywhere—and every last one of the kids ran out of the gym like they were on fire. But wouldn’t you know it? The longer it took for the ambulance to get there, the more of them trickled back in, demanding to see, wanting to snap pics for Instagram. I kept them on the line for weeks after that, feeding them recovery shots every few days.”

“Oh dear.” Even though he spoke lightly, my every maternal feeling came rushing to the surface. “That sounds awful, Greg. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” He pushed back from the table and, as if to prove his return to health, stretched vigorously. “The physical therapy was a bitch, and I can feel the break when there’s a storm coming on, but I still have contact with some of those kids—adults now, I guess. We bonded, in a way. Pain will do that, even if you’re the only one feeling it.”

I toyed with my phone, my fingers moving over the buttons in an empty pattern. “I guess I could always tell her that I found the Ouija board, but that her great-aunt Portia wouldn’t say anything about the missing money when I tried to reach out to her on it.”

“That’s…an interesting choice.Isthere missing money? Or a great-aunt Portia?”

I laughed. “Portia was real enough, but I don’t remember her having two pennies to rub together. I don’t think she needed it. She was my father’s favorite sister, one of those beautiful, charming, larger-than-life women who always had people trailing after her. I’ve never known anyone to hold a room spellbound the way she used to.”

He nodded as though this made perfect sense. “Like you.”

Before I could do more than blink at this startling piece of information, a reflexive spasm crossed his face.

“Speaking of pennies, I wish you’d let me pay you for the room.” He nodded down at his empty plate. “Andthe food. It doesn’t seem right, me taking advantage of your hospitality like this. Especially since you’re already doing so much for my grandfather.”

I started picking up our plates with so much force that my favorite IKEA pattern got a chip on one of the edges. “Don’t be silly. It’s the least I can do. Sloane is the one doing the actual work. She was only supposed to stop by his house a few times a week, but I think she slept over there again last night.”

Greg’s grimace was impossible to ignore. “She did. I put a mark on her tire to see if the car moved.”

For the first time, I felt as though I had a rival in my quest for prying. “You’re keeping tabs on her?”

A tinge of red touched his cheeks. “Of course not. I’m just afraid she’s doing a lot more for my grandfather than she’s letting on. I still don’t really understand. Who the devilisshe? And what does she want with him?”

“She’s his librarian,” I answered, not failing to note the heat in his voice. “And I think she’s just being nice.”

“No one is that nice. Except maybe serial killers.” He paused. “Or gold diggers.”