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Agnes stood and slid her hand under Josie’s elbow, guiding her to stand. “Come along, Josie. Ian will take care of everything. Won’t you, darlin’?”
Slack-jawed, Josie stared at her friend and then slid a glance at Ian. The poor man was so smitten by Agnes—and no, she didn’t blame him—he’d probably don a chicken suit and cluck if requested.
Pushing to his feet, Ian cleared his throat and ran a hand over his slicked-back hair. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Josie. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll call Harv and deal with him myself. Agnes is right. You have more important things to worry about.”
Agnes rounded the table and showered him with a honey-laden smile. She brushed invisible lint off his jacket and straightened his narrow pinstriped tie. “You are a good, good man, Ian James. You and I both know Josie isn’t neglectful. Forgetful, maybe, but can you blame the poor dear? Her mind is wrapped around her calendar and her daughter’s health.” Agnes spun on her toes and sashayed her size six Texas dynamo behind the counter to wait on a customer.
Ian fumbled to put his notepad and computer tablet in his hard-sided briefcase. He removed his glasses from his pocket and set them on his nose without taking his eyes off Agnes. “She’s a firecracker, isn’t she?”
Josie glanced over her at her friend and grinned. “That’s one word for it.”
Ian gave Josie’s shoulder a squeeze and then ambled out the door, whistling.
Josie straightened the chairs and grabbed her cooling cup of tea. She set it on the counter by the espresso machine and applauded quietly. “That, my friend, deserved an Oscar.”
Agnes looked up from the latte she was making. “Whatever do you mean?”
“That man is so sweet on you, he’d do anything you asked.”
“All of this coffee has marinated your brain. You’re imagining things.”
“I didn’t imagine that hole in the floor. I just hope the insurance will cover it.”
“Ian will come through for you, Sugar Pie. And so will God. Just you wait and see.”
* * *
Nick stood on the sidewalk in front of the white clapboard house with red shutters and checked the house number against the scribbles on his paper. It looked more like someone’s home than a place for adults with special needs.
Before Josie whirled back into his life yesterday, Nick received a call from Miss Patty, his brother’s group home caregiver, giving him a month to find a new place for Ross. Her son-in-law received orders to Okinawa, and Patty was moving to Virginia to be with her pregnant daughter. At least she gave him a place to check out—Jacob House, owned by her cousin Mae and her husband, Walt.
He needed to do this. For Ross.
His brother was going to lose it when moving day arrived. And being even farther from Linwood Park wasn’t going to help with Nick’s commute. Maybe he should just cancel the appointment.
Not an option. Patty was still moving, and Nick couldn’t care for Ross by himself.
Exposed branches scratched at the multipaned dormer windows. He strode up the cleared sidewalk, making a mental note of the wheelchair ramp off to the side and covered with nonskid surfacing. Snow melted like leftover frosting over low evergreens hugging the rails of the wraparound porch. A black mailbox with a red cardinal painted on the front hung next to the door.
The wide front porch with the gray planked floor, padded wooden rockers and swaying porch swing made Nick think of summer evenings shooting the breeze with neighbors or enjoying a quiet evening with the family while swigging iced tea from Mason jars.
The curtains in the window moved, and a pale face pressed to the glass stared at him. Nick lifted a hand. The face disappeared, leaving behind a smudge on the pane.
He wiped his feet on a bristled welcome mat and rang the doorbell, hearing the gongs echo throughout the interior. No turning back now.
The door opened, revealing a man with graying hair and wearing faded jeans and an Ohio State sweatshirt. A wide smile erased the drill instructor sternness from his forehead. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Walt Hoffman.” He held out a hand.
Nick shook it. “Nick Brennan.”
“We spoke on the phone. Welcome to Jacob House. Come in and meet everyone.” He stepped aside for Nick to enter.
The aroma of freshly baked bread reminded him of Josie’s place. His mouth watered.
A woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail and dressed in a denim jumper and white tennis shoes came out of the living room. “Good morning. You must be Nick. I’m Jane Vogt, one of the staffers. Let me take your coat.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He shook her hand and then shrugged off his jacket to hand to her. Over Jane’s shoulder, three men stood in the living room doorway, whispering to each other.
Jane turned and laid her hand on the shoulder of one man with neatly combed red hair and wire-rimmed glasses. His almond-shaped eyes stared at Nick as his tongue protruded slightly from his mouth. He wore a green-and-yellow bowling shirt with Ernie stitched on the left pocket and hugged a Cabbage Patch-style doll dressed the same way, glasses and all. “Ernie, this is Nick Brennan. Nick, Ernie is one of our residents at Jacob House.”
“Nice to meet you, Ernie.” Nick held out his hand.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Ernie spoke with a slight lisp as he reached for Nick’s hand. He thrust the doll at Nick. “This is Frederick.”
Nick shook Frederick’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Frederick.”
Ernie whispered something in Frederick’s ear and then put the doll’s mouth to his own ear. He grinned. “Frederick said nice to meet you, too.”
Jane linked her arms with the other two men. “This is Paul and Gideon.”
Paul’s dark hair was combed away from his face. He had a smudge of paint on his left cheek. Paint stains splattered his royal-blue apron.
“Nice to meet you, Paul.”
Paul nodded twice, gave Nick’s hand two shakes and then took two steps back where he tapped on the wall twice. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but his lips moved as he talked to himself.
“Gideon, can you say hi to Nick?” Jane placed her hand on Gideon’s back and urged him forward. He dug in his heels, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
“You don’t feel like talking?”
Gideon glared at Nick and shook his head again.
“Why not?” Jane spoke in gentle tones.
“He did the crossword puzzle.” His bottom lip protruded.
Nick frowned. “What crossword puzzle?”
“My dad’s puzzle.”
The old man at Cuppa Josie’s. A wave of heat crawled up Nick’s neck. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Gideon. I didn’t know your dad did the puzzle. I’m new in town. Please forgive me.”
Gideon looked at Jane. “Do I have to?”
She shook her head and smiled. “No, it’s your choice. I hope you do. I’m sure Mr. Nick would like to be friends.”
“Okay, Mr. Nick, I’ll be your friend.” Gideon stuck out a chubby hand. Nick reached for it, but before he could shake it, Gideon wrapped his arms around Nick and hugged him. He laid his head on Nick’s chest. “Thanks for being my friend.”
Nick patted Gideon’s back and prayed he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt.
Jane cupped a hand around her mouth and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Gideon, I think you’re surprising our guest. Would you like to help me work on a jigsaw puzzle while Mr. Nick talks with Mr. Walt?”
Once Jane had redirected the three men back to the living room, Walt turned to Nick. “You handled yourself well. Other than Gideon launching himself at you. That’s important since I’m assuming you will be visiting quite a bit if you choose Jacob House for Ross’s new home. The men are close. Their acceptance helps.”
“I’ll be here several times a week. My brother is an important part of my life.”
Walt smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Sounds good. Come on. Let’s grab some coffee.”
Walt led them through the living room. Ernie and Frederick sat on a dark brown leather couch, watching cartoons on the wide-screen TV. Jane and Gideon sat at a square table putting together a puzzle. Light streamed through a large bay window dressed in ruffled curtains, highlighting the pieces. Paul stood in front of an easel, holding a palette in his left hand as he added strokes of color on the canvas. A bird and a nest took shape.
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