“We were in the neighborhood, so I thought we’d stop in and say hi,” Rachel said as her daughter approached me.
“Hello, Milo,” Cammy said.
I eyed her curiously. “Hello, Cammy.”
“Mama usually likes me to say mister or missus, but she said not to with you.”
Rachel was the best. “Yes, I hate it.”
“Does it make you feel old?”
“It does, and it’s stuffy. Do you like to read?” I found myself asking.
“I do. Mama and I read together every day. What’s your favorite book?”
I named a few.
“I haven’t heard of those.”
“Maybe you’ll read them one day. You’re very calm.”
“I know how to behave myself when I need to. Mama said to behave with you.”
Rachel laughed. “Yeah, but you don’t always listen.”
“That’s what kids do,” Cammy replied, and I decided I liked her already.
“I was actually just thinking about calling you,” I told Rachel. “Do you know Gene’s address?”
“I do, and I like where this is going.”
“Really? Thank God. I was worried it was one of my bad ideas, like where I do something and people don’t like it.”
“I jumped off my bed and sprained my ankle once. Mama said that was a bad idea,” Cammy added.
“It was,” I replied.
“I think Gene will like it,” Rachel said.
“Can we get ice cream?” Cammy asked.
All three of us laughed. “Sure, baby girl.” Rachel hugged her, then gave me the address.
“Bye, Milo! It was nice to meet you.” I stiffened when Cammy hugged me.
“Nice to meet you too.”
They waved and were on their way.
I mapped out directions and saw it was close enough to walk. I locked up and headed that way, the scent of the ocean and fish filling my senses.
I smiled at everyone I passed by. Downtown Little Beach was busy, and everyone offered a wave or grin in return. Some people stared and whispered, probably because they knew I was the mysterious grandson no one knew Wilma Allen had. I couldn’t help wondering if this was the same route she’d walked, if this had been how she’d gotten to work or if she’d driven.
The house was on a quiet street, and it was small, with a short white picket fence. The home was painted white too, but had sky-blue shutters. This isn’t weird, this isn’t weird, this isn’t weird.
I opened the gate and went through it, hoping they didn’t have a dog who’d want to chew on my face even more than I did with my lip when Gideon said things that made me feel tingly.
The steps were slightly loose, which was a hazard, especially for someone who was likely old like Wilma Allen had been. I raised my hand and knocked, heard a deep voice from inside, and then the door opened to a man about my height, with gray hair and glasses.
“I can fix the loose boards on your porch for you. You might have kids who can…or someone else. And maybe it’s something you could do yourself, but if not, I can.” Shit. That had come out wrong. I should have introduced myself first. “I’m—”
“Milo?” he asked, a nostalgic sort of smile on his face.
“Yes,” I replied, happiness bouncing around inside me. “I’m Milo.”
“It’s so good to finally meet you! You look a lot like her, my Wilma. Do you want to come in?”
I tried to take a step but couldn’t move, wasn’t ready to get that close with him yet. “No, I just wanted to meet you.”
His brows pinched together, but he nodded.
“Did you know about my mom?”
“I did. Always. Wilma found you online. I’m not sure how, maybe from your mom. She used to look at your Instagram page.”
Oh, wow… I couldn’t piece together how to respond to that. “Why did she give Mom up?”
“It’s a long story, and—”
I held up my hand, and he stopped. “Wait. I didn’t mean to ask that. I’m not ready.”
“That’s fine. We can get to know each other first.”
Gideon had been right. Gene was nice. “I want to talk to you more, but I don’t think I can yet. I thought I would, but then I got nervous, and then I thought it was time again, but I just want to take it slowly.”
“We can do that. Whatever you want, whenever you want. I…” Gene swiped at a few tears. “You remind me of her. I loved Wilma with all my heart. And she loved you too. I want to make sure you know that.”
The need to cry built up inside me. That rarely happened, and I hated it when it did. “Thank you. I…I have to go.”
Gene didn’t stop me as I turned and walked away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gideon
Kris and Orlando were waiting for me at the Lighthouse when I arrived for lunch. They had a booth close to the one Milo and I had shared. I sat beside my brother and across from my best friend. “What’s up, assholes?”