I searched for an example he’d understand. “Like with Blackjack. He made you promise not to tell anyone about the secret mission, but eventually you told me. And it was the right thing to do.”
Grub thought for a moment. “How do you know when something’s the right thing to do?”
I gave him a soft pat on the shoulder, then rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s not always easy. Sometimes you’ll do the wrong thing, and people will be mad at you. Other times you’ll say the wrong thing and make someone sad. And then sometimes nothing will make any sense at all and it will seem like, no matter what you do, you’re making the wrong choice.”
Grub played with his ice cream for a minute, thinking. “That sounds complicated.”
“It is. But the important thing is, you can always trust me, Grub. And I’ll always trust you. We’re brothers, right?”
He turned and smiled at me. Melted ice cream ringed his mouth. “Right.”
“Good news,” Mom said, bustling back over. “That was Detective Van Reusch. All the property has been returned to the owners, and Ms. Stouffer isn’t pressing charges. The whole case is being dropped! Apparently neither she nor the police want rumors floating around that Hilltop Nursing Home isn’t a safe, secure facility for its residents.”
“Thank God,” I said, blowing air out of my cheeks. “What about Mary and Rose?”
“No longer suspended.”
I felt a twenty-pound weight lift from my chest.
For the next four days, I didn’t leave the house or see anyone besides Mom and Grub. Mom decided to close the café until after Letty’s memorial service, which was set for Saturday. I exchanged a few texts with Dylan and let Axl and Novie know how sorry I was for the loss of their great-grandmother. Rose and I talked on the phone before bed every night, but we didn’t see each other. I’d see everyone soon enough.
Meanwhile, I needed time with my family.
Time with Grub.
Time to myself, to grieve for Letty.
Mom, Grub, and I spent a lot of time looking through old pictures, reminiscing, and simply enjoying one another’s company. It felt like old times. We talked about growing up and growing old and everything that happens in between. We also played about two dozen games of Battleship. Grub won every time.
By the time Saturday arrived, it felt good to get out of our apartment and breathe fresh air. Letty’s memorial service was held at one of the old churches in downtown Buffalo Falls. As we walked in, I squinted at the peak of the tallest steeple, which looked as if it were trying to pierce the clouds.
Inside the church, the air buzzed with conversation. Dylan played instrumental acoustic guitar in the corner. The pews had already filled, so we found open space to stand in the back along with dozens of others. I recognized several familiar faces: the Larsens, Candy, Vera, the Bettys. I spotted Axl and Novie’s white-blond hair near the front with the rest of their family. I looked for Rose in the sea of people but couldn’t find her.
While we waited for the service to begin, I wandered over to a display of photographs. I looked at black-and-white glamour shots of Letty as a young woman, a wedding photo of her and Dickey, and numerous others of her surrounded by her enormous family.
The most recent picture was from her ninetieth birthday party. I picked it up for a closer look. Someone must have stood on a table at Hilltop to get an overhead angle. It was a shot of the entire dance floor. I could make out the band off to the side looking, well, like a real band.
In the center, a flash of gold, a cone-shaped party hat, and pure joy.
I heard Letty’s voice in my head, her cackling laugh. Enjoy today, kid, you might be dead tomorrow!
It brought a smile to my face.
The service began with a minister reading passages from the Bible, then addressing the congregation and making vague statements about Letty’s life—all the things one might expect at a memorial service. Honestly, it didn’t feel Letty-like at all.
But after that, a cordless microphone was passed around, and one by one people began to share their memories of Letty. While there were plenty of funny stories about Letty’s escapades—her love of dancing, her sense of humor, her infectious laugh—just as many were told of her kindness. The way she’d feed any kid in the neighborhood who needed a meal, even with five kids of her own. The way she volunteered at the community soup kitchen for years and turned every meal into a party. The way she always seemed to know when someone needed a friend.
Vera spoke, telling the story of her first day at Hilltop and how scared and lonely she’d felt. She’d sat in her room and cried that night, until Letty sprang in with a grin and a checkerboard to cheer her up.
“Letty found a reason to be happy every day of her life until the very end,” Vera concluded. “We should all live so well.”
Letty’s granddaughter, Crash, took the microphone then. After sharing a few stories of her own, she thanked everyone for coming and ended by directly addressing Letty’s casket, which had been covered in wildflowers.
“One last thing, Grandma.” Crash pulled a small flask from her pocket and held it in the air. The crowd murmured and laughed. “Here’s to you. Here’s to living life your way. You knew how to have a good time like nobody else. I’d pour one out for you, Grandma, but I know what you’d say—‘That’s a waste of a good drink!’” Everyone laughed, a few people clapped, and a couple even hooted. “So I’ll drink yours for you. We’re all going to miss you, Letty Kowalczyk. Cheers!”
I laughed and clapped along with the rest of the room. As the noise subsided, Dylan resumed playing guitar and people began to disperse. I scanned the crowd but still couldn’t see Rose.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned.
“Hello, Zeus.”
“Hello, Ms. Stouffer.”
We stood looking at each other in awkward silence. I realized two things about Hilltop’s director in that moment: (1) death was an unfortunate but common job-related hazard for her; and (2) she didn’t enjoy it any more than the rest of us.
“Thank you,” she finally said, “for returning everything. Detective Van Reusch let me read the police report. I found it very enlightening.”
“You did?”
Missy paused a moment, as if she struggled to say the next words. “Mr. Porter—Blackjack—may never know what you did to protect his dignity, but I will. The whole situation was very unfortunate. As a result, the staff and I have established a few new rules to protect everyone’s well-being, volunteers included.”
My eyes shot to the ground. Here comes the lifetime ban from Hilltop.
“That said, we’d love to have you back at Hilltop, Zeus. Your brother, too.”
I glanced back up and tried to find words to thank her, but I was too shocked to produce any.