Under the Lights (23 page)

“Pretty dog,” he said, remembering she wasn't the chatty type and it might be up to him to carry conversations.

“Thanks. Her name's Cocoa.”

Alex smiled. “I can't imagine why.”

“Yeah, it's not the most original name for a chocolate Lab, but she came with it and she seems to like it. Right, Cocoa?” The dog put up her paw and he watched Gretchen give her a high five. “She also likes high fives. A lot. She knows the basics, like sit or down. Stay is a little iffy. She has no idea what
get off the couch
or
no dogs on the bed
means, but if you're looking for somebody to celebrate with a high five, Cocoa's your girl.”

“Who doesn't love a high five, right?” he asked the dog, who trotted back to him so they could slap palm to paw.

“Do you need help carrying things in?”

He shook his head. “I don't have much. I figured I'd say hello first and meet your grandmother. I'm sure we've met before, but it's been a long time.”

“She's waiting inside.”

Alex followed her around the house to the back door, which opened into the kitchen. He hadn't been away from New England so long that he'd forgotten the front doors were for company and political door knockers. After she'd kicked off her boots, she led him into the living room, where her grandmother was sitting in an old glider rocker. She set her knitting aside just in time for the big Lab to hop up in her lap. It took Cocoa a few seconds to wedge herself into a comfortable position, and he heard Gretchen sigh before she reintroduced them to each other.

“Sit for a few minutes,” her grandmother said. “Let's chat.”

He perched on the edge of the sofa. “Thank you for letting me rent a room in your home, Mrs. Walker.”

“Call me Ida. Or Gram. Do you like scalloped potatoes?”

“Um.” He tried to keep up. “Yes, ma'am. Ida. Gram. Yes, I like scalloped potatoes.”

“I'm going back to work,” Gretchen said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“You'll need to write the Internet password down for him,” Ida told her before looking back to him. “Speaking of the Internet, you don't have any weird proclivities, do you?”

“Gram!” Gretchen stopped walking and turned back, holding her hands up in a
what are you doing
gesture.

“If he's going to live under the same roof as my granddaughter, I have a right to know.”

“No, you don't,” Gretchen said in a low voice.

“I guess I'd wonder what your definition of weird is,” Alex said at the same time.

“Don't answer that, Gram.”

Because they were technically his new landlords, the question could be totally illegal as far as he knew. But he wasn't particularly outraged by the turn in the conversation. “I've never received any complaints about weirdness with regard to my proclivities.”

“Good.” Ida gave him an approving look. “You can never be too careful.”

“That's so true. So tell me, Gretchen, do
you
have any weird proclivities?”

“I am not discussing my proclivities with you.”

“If I'm going to live under the same roof with you, don't I have a right to know?”

She shook her head, but he could see her struggling not to smile. “You have a right to know the dishwasher hasn't worked for almost a year and a half and where the extra toilet paper's kept. My proclivities, weird or not, are off-limits.”

If not for the fact that her grandmother was watching them, Alex might have been tempted to poke at her a little more. He'd seen her during Eagles Fest, mostly from a distance, and he knew she had an infectious, musical laugh that seemed at odds with her stern exterior. When she was with Kelly McDonnell and their friend Jen Cooper, the high school guidance counselor, Gretchen had no problem letting her sense of humor show through. He could see glimpses of it now, and he wanted to draw it out.

But she escaped into the kitchen before he could say more, and a minute later he heard the kitchen door close
with a thump. Alex turned his attention back to Ida, who was rubbing between a sleeping Cocoa's ears.

He would be in Stewart Mills for a while, so he had plenty of time to get under Gretchen Walker's skin and make her
laugh.

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