Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 4

Chapter

Three

I greet the staff at the assisted living facility as I pass by the front desk. I know most of them by name after visiting here every other month for the past three years. In case they demand I stop by for dinner, I keep these visits from my parents, and I usually manage to sneak in and out of the city in a single day.

My grandfather’s health has been declining for years, and it broke my heart to take him from his Long Island house and put him in here, but like he always does, he settled in easily and made the best of the situation.

When I get into his room, he’s dozing peacefully, while a rerun of Frasier plays on his TV. I wrap my fingers around his fragile hand and squeeze gently, noticing how little padding there appears to be between flesh and bone. “Hey, Grampa,” I murmur.

His eyes immediately flutter open, and he squeezes back, the faintest of smiles thinning his lips. “There’s my boy.”

Tears burn behind my eyes, and an intense wave of guilt washes over me. Even if I don’t like coming to New York because of them, I should have made more of an effort for him. “I’m sorry it’s been a while, Grampa.”

“No.” He croaks out the word and gives a feeble shake of his head. “You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself on my watch, son.”

I rest my forehead against his knuckles, feeling like a sinner looking for absolution I will never find. “Are you in pain?”

“Not enough to make me want to quit,” he rasps, and it sparks a coughing fit that has him grasping for the oxygen mask at his side.

I take it and press it against his face, gently fixing the elastic strap behind his head. My grandfather has been sickly for as long as I can remember thanks to a congenital heart defect, which has been exacerbated all his adult life by his six-cigars-a-day habit. He’s also battled and won two previous bouts of cancer. He is anything but a quitter. He’s the man I admire and respect more than anyone else in the world, and it hurts me that I’ve been away from him for so long. I should have been a better grandson. I should have visited more often.

When he’s able to breathe again, he pulls the mask aside. “Your mother is insisting I come home,” he says, despondent.

I can hardly believe she wants him home. More like she wants to get her hands on whatever money he has left after he dies. She wants to look like the good, doting daughter she most definitely isn’t to her socialite friends. “And how do you feel about that?”

He shrugs. “I do like it here, but the doctors are suggesting it would be best to be with family.”

“Then you can stay with me. My place in Chicago has plenty of space, and it’s on the ground floor.”

“I can’t move to Chicago, boy.” He shakes his head. “As much as I’d like to raise hell with you there … If I were ten years younger …” He laughs softly. “My doctors are here. My nurses.”

“There are doctors and nurses in Chicago, Grampa.”

He squeezes my hand. “I’m too old to move halfway across the country, King. Too tired. I just want a little peace.”

I stare into his weary green eyes and read the defeat on his face. He is the bravest and toughest man I know, but he has battled hard for almost seventy-nine years. He, of all people, deserves a little peace. “Then I’ll get a place here in New York.”

“No, no. You can’t upend your life like that for me,” he says with as much authority as he can muster. “I can go stay with your mother.”

That would be the most miserable place I can think of for him to spend whatever little time he has left. “I can take care of you. We can get you round-the-clock care. We can make it work.”

“Time for your meds, Arthur,” someone with a soft voice says from behind me. A second later, a nurse is standing beside the bed, holding out one of the small paper cups that are usually full of pills.

He nods obediently, the faintest twinkle in his eye when she smiles at him. “Anything for you, Amanda.”

He introduces me as his favorite grandson. I remind him I’m his only one, and then I stand and give Amanda room to fuss over him. Fluffing his pillows and combing his hair, she tells him about the disastrous date she had last night. I listen with a smile as he tells her to never settle for a man who doesn’t chase after her like he did my grandma. By the time she’s done, he’s drifting off to sleep again.

“He’s such a wonderful character,” she says, smiling sadly.

I lower my voice to ensure he can’t hear me. “How long does he have?”

She shrugs. “Who can say? Maybe a few months, or maybe less.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I can see how much she clearly cares for him. “There’s nothing more we can do here. And his doctors think it would be good to spend whatever time he has left with his family …”

I scrub a hand over my head. Depends on the family.

“Don’t you?” she asks.

With me, yes. Maybe I was hasty making the offer to upend my life and move to New York with him, but if he likes it here, and he has people like this nurse on hand, then wouldn’t it be selfish to move him? “He really seems to like you.”

That makes her smile again. “I like him too. He has so many fun stories, so many fun anecdotes and words of wisdom. But, well, tomorrow is my last day.”

“No? You found something better than this place?” I make a show of looking around the small room, with its pale pink walls and small sash window and the faint smell of antiseptic.

Amanda covers her mouth, stifling her laugh. “I wish,” she answers quietly. “No, they’re making cutbacks, and I haven’t been here very long.” She plasters a smile on her face. “But I’ll find something.”

I make the decision in an instant, knowing I cannot allow my sweet, kindhearted grandfather to spend the last few weeks or months of his life living in a prison of my parents’ making. “Then come work for me.”

She blinks, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “Excuse me?”

“Well, for him.” I gesture at Grampa. “If I get a place by the end of the week, get him all the equipment he needs, would you be his nurse?” I do some quick mental math. His insurance will cover the basics, and I have plenty of savings to cover the rest. It will put a dent in my early retirement plan, but it will be worth it to save Grampa from abject misery.

She gapes at me. “Are you serious?”

“I can’t take care of him on my own, and he seems to be really comfortable with you. You’d be doing me a solid.”

She glances at my grandfather and then back at me, worrying her lower lip. “I mean I would love to, but I …” Her blush deepens. “I don’t know you.”

“I get that. But it wouldn’t be a live-in position. And you do know my Grampa. I can advertise for a nurse, but I’d much rather use one he already likes and is comfortable with. I know it won’t be a long-term job …” The reality of those words makes grief clog my throat, and I clear it before continuing. “But you could use the time to line up something else.”

“You’re sure? Your mother indicated she’d be taking him home.”

My mother, who visits him under duress once a month for appearance’s sake? I wouldn’t put it past her to play the doting daughter impeccably well when the doctors and nurses are around. “He still gets to make his own decisions though, right?”

Amanda nods firmly. “Of course.”

“Then he’ll be coming home with me. Give me a few days and I’ll have a place sorted.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Just like that? In New York City?”

I flash her a grin. “Don’t worry about it. I know some people.” I know a lot of people in New York. I just hope I don’t have to call on the one with the most pull, because that’s a can of worms I can do without.