She laughed out loud. “I thought you’d never ask. I smelled something heavenly when I opened the car door. I followed it all the way to the kitchen door.”
Kayla Coles asked a few questions about the case while she ate — a single egg, orange juice, just a bite of a sticky bun. I glossed over most of the details of the case, but I gave her a feel for the three killers and what they had done, and what I knew about why — which wasn’t enough, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.
“Where’s John Sampson now?” she wanted to know.
“Mantoloking, New Jersey,” I said. “He’s recovering from his wounds, among other things. He has a nurse. A live-in, I hear.”
“She’s his girlfriend,” said Nana. “That’s what he really needed anyway.”
After breakfast, Dr. Coles gave Nana a physical right in the house. She took her temperature, pulse, blood pressure, listened to her chest with a stethoscope, then did a P and A. She checked for fluid buildup in Nana’s ankles, the tops of her feet and hands, under her eyes. She looked into Nana’s eyes and ears, tested her reflexes, looked at the color of her lips and nail beds. I knew all the elements of the test and possibly could have done the exam myself, but Nana liked getting visits from Kayla Coles.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Nana during the checkup. She just sat there, and she seemed like a little girl to me. She never said a word, never complained.
When Kayla was finished, Nana finally spoke up. “Am I still alive? I haven’t passed, have I? Like that scary movie with what’s-his-name Willis.”
“Bruce Willis . . . No, you’re still with us, Nana. You’re doing beautifully.”
Nana took a deep breath and sighed. “Then I guess tomorrow’s the big day. Go in for my catheter ablation, my radio-frequency ablation, whatever it is.”
Dr. Coles nodded. “You’ll be in and out of the hospital in a snap. I promise you that.”
Nana narrowed her eyes. “You keep your promises?”
“Always,” said Kayla Coles.
Chapter 101
IN THE EARLY evening Nana and I
took a ride out to Virginia in the old Porsche. She’d asked if we could take the drive, just the two of us. Aunt Tia was home with the kids.
“Remember when you first got this car? We used to take a ride just about every Sunday. I looked forward to it all week,” she said once we were out of Washington and on the highway.
“Car’s almost fifteen years old now,” I said.
“Still runs pretty good, though,” Nana said. She patted the dash. “I like old things that work. Long, long time ago, I used to go for a car ride every Sunday with Charles. This was before you came to live with me, Alex. You remember your grandfather?”
I shook my head. “Not as much as I’d like to. Just from the photographs around the house. I know the two of you came to visit in North Carolina when I was little. He was bald and used to wear red suspenders.”
“Oh, those awful, awful suspenders of his. He had a couple of dozen pairs. All red.”
She nodded. Then Nana seemed to go inside herself for a moment or two. She didn’t talk about my grandfather very often. He had died when he was just forty-four. He’d been a teacher too, just like Nana, though he taught math and she was English. They had met while working at the same school in Southeast.
“Your grandfather was an excellent man, Alex. Loved to dress up and wear a nice hat. I still have most of his hats. You go through the Depression, things we saw, you like to dress up sometimes. Gives you a nice feeling about yourself.”
She looked over at me. “I made a mistake, though, Alex.”
I glanced over at her. “You made a mistake? This is a great shock. I’d better pull over to the side of the road.”
She cackled. “Just one that I can recall. See, I knew how good it could be to fall in love. I really loved Charles. After he died, though, I never tried to find love again. I think I was afraid of failing. Isn’t that pathetic, Alex? I was too afraid to go after the best thing I ever found in this life.”
I reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don’t talk like you’re leaving us.”
“Oh, I’m not. I have a lot of confidence in Doc Kayla. She would tell me if it was time for me to start collecting on all my old debts. Which I plan to do, by the way.”
“So, this is a parable, a lesson?”
Nana shook her head. “Not really. Just an anecdote while we’re taking this nice ride in your car. Drive on, young man. Drive on. I’m enjoying this immensely. We should do it more often. How about every Sunday?”