Chapter Three
“Oh my God, my baby!”
So much for making a quiet entrance, Joanna thought, then stumbled out of the way as the angry fluffball streaked past her and jumped up on the bed. When Granny had told her she’d adopted a sweet little poodle, Joanna was expecting something, well, sweet. This dog glared at her from behind Granny’s hip.
“Hey, Gran,” Joanna whispered, though she didn’t know why. Granny sure wasn’t whispering. It was just that she looked . . . delicate. Joanna wasn’t used to seeing her delicate. Until that dreadful moment in the airport, she couldn’t remember ever thinking of Granny as mortal.
Granny reached her hand out to Joanna, and she came into the room, standing awkwardly by the edge of the bed, holding Gran’s hand.
“Don’t be so silly, I won’t break,” Granny said, and tugged on Joanna until she was sitting at her side. The fluffball growled.
“No offense, Gran, but you did break.”
“Oh, hush, Starr,” Granny told the dog, ignoring Joanna’s comment. The dog let out a quick, sharp bark, then walked in a tight circle and lay down.
“Sorry about that. She’s very protective of me,” Granny explained.
More than I am, that’s for sure, Joanna thought.
“She is a ferocious guard dog,” she said. “Much tougher than she looks.”
“Lie down. Looking up at you like that is hurting my neck.”
Joanna did as she was told—for once—resting her head on the edge of Granny’s pillow. She pulled her legs carefully onto the bed so as not to disturb the complicated pyramid of pillows her broken leg was resting on. Joanna shouldn’t have worried, though. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was swamped by memories of lying, just like this, with Gran in the middle of the bed, Joanna next to her, acting like she was just going to lie there for a minute, Gran letting her pretend that she didn’t need the comfort.
“Are you really here?”
“Yes, Gran. I’m really here.”
“I’ve been taking a lot of pain medicine. Things are a little fuzzy.”
“It’s really me.”
“You got here fast. I should break my leg more often.”
“Hmm.” Joanna would relay the whole complicated tale later, when Granny was clearheaded. Although, she thought, maybe she should do it now, when Granny wasn’t sure to remember.
Granny lay back, her eyes closed. “The dog was a retirement present.”
Joanna lifted her head a little to look at the bedraggled poodle with a bad attitude. “Some present.”
“From one of my students. Do you remember the Taleses?”
Joanna thought. The name sounded familiar. But then, this was Halikarnassus. She probably knew them.
“Sure.”
“Amber Talese was in my last Humanities class. She volunteers at the animal shelter, and she said when she saw Starr, she knew we were meant to be.”
“Are you sure that was a compliment?”
“Well, I’ve gotten quite used to her, the ornery thing.”
“You’ve got a thing for ornery ladies,” Joanna said.
Granny pulled Joanna’s hand up and kissed it.
“Does it hurt?”
“My leg? Like hell.”
“I’m so sorry, Gran.”
“It was my own stupid fault. I was trying to do too many things at once. I’m old now, you know.”
“Don’t say that. You still have all your beautiful blond hair,” Joanna said. It was an old joke between them, how they each had such naturally beautiful hair, when the truth was, they both spent way too much time and money on hair dye. It was one of the most important lessons Gran had taught her.
“I like this,” Granny said, fingering the pink streaks in the underlayer of Joanna’s hair. They were all that remained of the Bunny Slippers makeover, the first time Joanna had had her hair dyed by someone other than a friend in a tiny bathroom. She wasn’t ready to let go of the black, but Jeff insisted on “softening her up a bit.”
That was the first sign that Bunny Slippers was headed in a direction she did not want to go.
“So what really happened?” she asked Granny, unwilling to go into the history of her pink hair. That was a little too close to the real reason she was home.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than me getting caught sneaking food to the neighborhood feral cats?”
“That wasn’t embarrassing, that was sweet.”
“Yes, but I had an image of badassery to uphold.”
“And Doris did throw a fit. She was sure those cats were tearing up her garden.”
“Well, Doris never did like me much.”
“Oh, hush, now,” Granny said. But Joanna noticed she did not contradict her. That was Granny, ever diplomatic. And that was Joanna, ever disliked by the respectable citizens of Halikarnassus.
Not that she was bitter about it.
“Tell me,” Joanna urged, trying to get her mind off her own unlikability.
Granny heaved a mighty sigh that made Starr look up. The dog uncoiled and walked closer, resting her head on Gran’s shoulder.
“About a year ago, we got a new library director.”
“Whoa. Did Mrs. Pratt die?”
“Not funny, young lady. No, she retired like all us old people do.”
“God, you’re not as old as Mrs. Pratt.”
“No, actually she’s three years younger than me.”
Joanna remembered Mrs. Pratt as old and stooped and gray-haired and mean. There was no way she was younger than Granny.
“Well, the new director is the nicest young man. Liam. He’s from Boston. He’s done wonderful things for the library. It’s changed so much since I used to take you to summer reading when you were little. You should stop over and see it. How long will you be here, anyway?”
Joanna didn’t know the answer to that question, but she was pretty sure her time in Halikarnassus would be brief and library-free. “What does the nice young library director have to do with your broken leg?”
“I’m telling you, it’s embarrassing.”
“Granny, you’re making me think he did something to you.”
“No! No no no. It’s just that, well, he’s so young and handsome. And I may be old, but I’m not dead yet, you know? Oh, God, this is humiliating.” Granny let go of Joanna’s hand to cover her face.
“Gran, tell me.” Joanna really could not imagine what Liam and his handsomeness had to do with Granny’s accident. If Joanna was going to seek angry vengeance, she needed some more specifics.
“He’s a jogger,” Granny said through her hands. “And every day he follows the same route through this neighborhood.”
Joanna waited, confused.
“All of us ladies like to wave hello to him. To be neighborly.”
“Okay . . .”
“He wears the most adorable running shorts.”
Oh my God.
“Gran. Did you trip and fall because you were ogling the library director’s legs?” She tried very hard not to laugh because her granny was in pain. She tried, really. But in the end, she couldn’t hold it in.
“Oh, stop!” Granny said, but she was laughing, too. “I wasn’t just ogling. I was also taking Starr out and I got tangled in her leash,” Granny gasped between laughing fits.
“Granny!”
“You can’t tell him! Promise me.”
Joanna couldn’t imagine a situation in which she’d be called upon to tell the library director anything, let alone that her grandmother was perving out on him. “I promise.”
“Oh, sweetie. It’s good to have you home.”
“I missed you, Gran.” That was the truth, even if it wasn’t actually good to be home.
“I miss you, too, my love. Oh, Lord, I’m pooped. All I’ve been doing is lying here.”
“You need to rest, Granny. Heal and stuff.”
“You’re right. I’m going to have a little snooze. You won’t be gone when I wake up, will you?”
“No, I’ll be here.” She wasn’t sure for how long, but she could stick it out through one nap. Probably.
Okay, definitely. She had nowhere else to go.
“And when I wake up, you’ll tell me why you’re really here.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a demand. But then Granny closed her eyes and the dog snuggled closer, so Joanna just slid off the bed and tiptoed out of the room.
* * *
Liam still had his head in the fridge when Joanna came out of Peggy’s room.
“So, should I worry about who you are?” she asked.
He hit his head on the shelf on the way out. Rubbing his sore noggin, he turned to face Joanna Green, Prodigal Granddaughter and Slightly Intimidating Rock Star.
“Hi. I’m Liam. I’m a friend of your grandmother’s,” he said, even though he was pretty sure he had said the same thing when she came in. He stuck out his hand for a friendly shake. She didn’t take it.
“Liam the Librarian?”
“Uh . . . yup.” He hated when people called him that. That’s what his friends back in Boston used to call him. It drove him nuts. He always felt like they were laughing at him when they said it.
Joanna wasn’t laughing, but she was definitely looking him up and down.
“Hmm,” she said, and Liam looked down to make sure his fly was closed. “So, Liam the Librarian,” she said, taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island. “What are you doing in Granny’s fridge?”
“Oh, uh, right. So, folks have been bringing by food. A lot of food.”
“Of course. The Halikarnassus Hunger Force. They come by with food and condolences, but really they just want to stick their noses in your business.”
“That’s a very Lizzy Bennet thing to say.”
She looked confused.
“From Pride and Prejudice? When she comes back from her trip early because Lydia’s run off with Wickham and the neighbor lady comes to visit her and she says—”
“I know who Lizzy Bennet is.”
Ah, so she wasn’t confused. Just not interested in literary allusions and bad jokes. He supposed he should cut her some slack. After all, her grandmother was injured, and a stranger was rearranging her fridge.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got a lot of food here,” he said.
“And you’re trying to organize it?”
“Well, I’m trying to get it all in the fridge.”
“What about the freezer?”
“Full.”
“What about the freezer in the garage?”
“There’s a freezer in the garage?”
“Everyone in Halikarnassus has a freezer in the garage. It’s a town of hoarders. Well, hoarders and hunters.”
“I guess some of this could go in there.” He started pulling out the most precariously situated dishes.
Then Joanna was at his elbow, taking dishes from his hands, flipping over the notes and making various noises that sounded like disapproval.
“You don’t like lasagna?” he asked.
“Love it. But Mrs. Johnson’s lasagna is terrible.” She stepped on the lever to open the garbage can and tossed the whole aluminum pan in.
“Hey! Don’t throw it out!”
“You’ve clearly never had Mrs. Johnson’s lasagna.”
“How bad can lasagna be?”
“The noodles are so soft they’re practically melted, the sauce is mostly onions, and she uses fat-free cheese.”
“Okay. Fat-free cheese is a crime. But don’t throw out anything else, okay? People brought it over so Peggy wouldn’t have to cook. They’re just trying to be nice.”
“I can cook.”
He tried to picture her in an apron, wielding a wooden spoon. He imagined she’d look fierce and feisty, determined to beat the ingredients into submission. It was an alarmingly appealing image. “Now you don’t have to. You can just focus on Peggy.”
She snorted. “Like there aren’t going to be people traipsing in and out of here all day.”
“They love—” He was about to remind Joanna how much everybody loved her grandmother, then thought, what was the point? Joanna was clearly unmoved by their neighborly kindness. No, she wasn’t unmoved. She was moved to suspicion.
“It was really nice of you to come back here to help out,” he said, trying another tactic.
She just shrugged.
“How long do you think you’ll stick around?” He couldn’t decide what he wanted her answer to be. Part of him wanted her to stick around so he could get to know her, to see if she was as fascinating as she seemed. Another part of him was intimidated by her coolness and her aloofness and wanted her gone. Never meet your heroes, the saying went. Not that she was a hero, but she was a mildly famous person he admired.
Maybe everybody was right. Maybe Joanna Green was nothing but trouble.
“Not sure. I guess until Peggy doesn’t need me anymore.”
“I think if Peggy had her way, you’d stay forever.”
She shuddered. “Forever? In this town? Anyway, we’ll get on each other’s nerves eventually.”
“Well, and you’ll probably have to leave to play some shows, right?”
She stilled, her hand on the lid of a container that was labeled “salad” but looked more mayonnaise than vegetable.
“I’m gonna get weird for a second,” he said. “I have to tell you, I’m a huge fan of yours.”
“You are?” Why was she looking at him with disgust? Was it not cool to tell an accomplished person that you admired their accomplishments?
“Yeah. I mean, when I moved here, I didn’t know Peggy’s Joanna Green was the Joanna Green,” he said, covering up his embarrassment with more words. Surely that was the best way to handle the situation. Oh, she doesn’t like what you’re saying? Go on, say more. “I was a huge fan of the Slutty Brontes. I saw you guys in Somerville. And those early Bunny Slippers albums—man. Amazing. You guys were like the Stilettos. Do you know the Stilettos? Debbie Harry’s first band? Of course you do, duh. Not that you’re not still like the Stilettos. I mean, I don’t know. Your last album sort of . . . dropped off my radar. But I heard you guys are really blowing up. Next big thing. That’s why I’m so surprised you’re here.”
He took a deep breath. Surely he would stop talking now, now that he had already used every single word in the English language to simultaneously dork out and insult the granddaughter of his favorite patron—by saying that he used to like her band, but now they kind of sucked.
She didn’t say anything. Her face was unreadable. She just looked at him for a minute, then picked up a tray of unidentified casserole and threw it in the garbage.
Very punk rock. He liked this woman, despite all the signs indicating that he should not, even as she turned on her heel and left him alone in Peggy’s kitchen.