Chapter Four
Laughter is much more important than applause. Applause is almost a duty. Laughter is a reward.
—Carol Channing
Hollis stepped into his grandfather’s room at Memory Oaks and paused to watch Pop resting peacefully with his eyes closed. At least he looked peaceful. As soon as Hollis pulled in a full breath, however, Pop’s eyes opened with a start, pale blue and just as clear as they’d ever been.
Patients at Memory Oaks struggled with various ailments related to aging, including Alzheimer’s or other forms of dementia. But most days Pop was clear-minded and could tell you anything, including every address and phone number he’d ever had.
It didn’t seem to bother Matt, Pop’s own son, but Hollis hated seeing Pop lose his independence.
“Hey, Pop.” Hollis slid into the visitor’s chair next to the bed.
Before moving here, Pop had been an active guy.
Spending any time during the day in bed was an atrocity, according to Pop.
Yet here he was, lying in bed, presumably napping.
“How’s it going?” Hollis asked again when Pop didn’t respond immediately.
Pop scoffed. “How do you think it’s going in here?” His tone was answer enough. Using his arms to push himself up into a sitting position on the bed, he looked over at Hollis and his resentment began to visibly melt away. “How—how’s the farm?”
Hollis knew Pop was okay if he was talking about his business and lifelong passion. “It’s doing well. The trees are more beautiful than I’ve seen them in a long time.”
“You’re making sure they get the right amount of water?” Pop had trained Hollis about the business the same way that Matt had trained Hollis in construction.
“Measuring it to the drop, exactly as you taught me. The crew is nearly finished up working on the Maynard Barn, so I’m switching gears and prepping to open the tree farm for holiday hours. The season is upon us.”
“Good. That’s good,” Pop said with the slight nod. “That was always my favorite time of the year. Preparing for the customers.” He rubbed his old, leathery hands together.
“No more talking in past tense, Pop. You’re still here,” Hollis reminded him.
Pop shook his head. “No. I’m here.” He pointed at the bed he was lying in. “And I don’t see that changing.”
“You say the word. I’ll get a day pass, and we’ll work the farm together anytime you want.”
Pop’s eyes seemed to glow. “Yeah?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll slow you down,” Pop argued.
“Life at the tree farm isn’t fast-paced, you know that.
” The only issue would be making sure Pop was supervised at all times.
When Pop became confused, he’d taken to wandering.
Add hundreds of Christmas trees and customers searching for the perfect one for their living room, and he could easily get lost.
“I’d like that.” He waved a hand. “This place is nice. The food is good. And we played bingo on Friday. Next Friday, there’s going to be a holiday dance.”
“Yeah, I know. Francis mentioned it.” Hollis waggled his brows. “You going to sit against the wall or make a move on one of the ladies?”
Pop offered a sly grin and broke into a soft chuckle. “I stopped looking for love a long time ago.” Pop had become a widower in his early fifties. He held up a finger. “But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting. There’s some advice for you, boy.”
“I think I missed the lesson on flirting,” Hollis admitted. “When I flirt, women think I’m either weird or rude.”
Pop looked at him with interest, narrowing his pale eyes. “Oh, if you can care for trees, you can flirt, son. It’s easy.”
Hollis disagreed. “I somehow say the wrong thing. Every time.”
“Doesn’t matter what you say. You could be talking about dog poop on the sidewalk. The key to flirting is the way you say something.”
As Hollis listened, he wondered if he was getting the clearheaded version of the man he considered to be a grandfather or the foggy version of Pop.
“Can you explain exactly how one would discuss dog poop in a flirty way?” Hollis glanced around to make sure no one was overhearing this ridiculous-sounding conversation.
“It’s in the eyes. First, you look at your lady friend for a long moment.
You lock eyes just long enough to think in your mind, You are beautiful.
Then you break eye contact. Flirting is in the pacing.
It’s in the tone. You may be discussing a pile of dog poop, but your tone needs to be the same as if you were telling her with your words that she is the prettiest woman you’ve laid eyes on. ’”
Hollis had to admit, this was compelling advice. “You always said math was easy too, and you and I both know I got all Cs.” Honestly, he was more of a D+ student, but grades didn’t matter after getting his GED. Hollis hadn’t gone to college because he’d had employment with Matt.
“Watch and listen…” Pop cleared his throat.
As Hollis watched, the older man’s expression changed.
“Watch your step. There’s dog poop on the floor.
” Pop’s voice dipped low and turned gravelly.
He looked at Hollis and counted off his next words on his fingers.
“You. Are. Beautiful.” Then his gaze swept toward the window to watch the birdfeeder momentarily.
“Any respectable pet owner would clean up after their pet.”
Hollis wasn’t sure what was going on right now.
Returning his attention to Hollis, Pop pointed a finger in his direction. “I bet you’re a respectable pet owner.”
Hollis’s jaw hung slack, and he honestly didn’t know what to say until Pop started laughing, slapping a hand against his own thigh. “Pop, were you just flirting with me?”
The older man with light blue eyes and sun-speckled, weathered skin seemed to work hard to catch his breath from laughing. “My first lesson in flirting. I should have taught you a long time ago, Matt.”
Hollis’s heart dropped into his stomach.
Pop seemed to realize his mistake as well. The look on his face, fear and shame, broke Hollis’s heart.
“Come to the dance, and I’ll give you another lesson.”
Hollis laughed. “I’m already planning on attending. I’m bringing Duke.”
“You’re bringing your dog?” Pop rolled his eyes. “You don’t bring a dog to a dance. You bring a woman. Or you go and meet a woman.”
Hollis absently rubbed his fingers along his beard. “You’d be surprised, Pop. Dogs are lady magnets.”
Pop grunted and waved a dismissive hand. “Maybe a woman will walk over and pet your dog, but their focus is on the dog, not you. You just told me you need practice flirting. Trust me, all the ladies here will line up to dance with you.”
Hollis imagined the line, full of women with canes and walkers. He loved the people here, but he wouldn’t call Memory Oaks a hotspot to meet a romantic partner.
“Leave your dog at home and come sweep some ladies off their feet.” Pop grimaced. “Well, keep them on their feet. A lot of us aren’t as balanced as we once were.”
At least Pop’s humor was still intact. Sharper than it ever was, in Hollis’s opinion.
Someone cleared their throat from Pop’s doorway.
“Nancy,” Pop said, greeting the facility’s recreational therapist. “How are you?”
“I’m good, Pop. I was walking by and I overheard you saying there was… dog poop… somewhere? Do you need assistance?”
Hollis suppressed a laugh.
“You must have misheard me. I do need your assistance with something though. Convince my grandson here to come to our dance—sans his dog.”
The recreational therapist’s grin stretched wider.
Hollis wasn’t good at estimating age, but he guessed Nancy was probably in her forties.
She was a beautiful Black woman with shoulder-length hair and big brown eyes.
“I didn’t know you had a grandson, Pop. That means you’re Matt and Sandy’s son? ” she asked Hollis.
Hollis started to give the long explanation that, no, he wasn’t really Matt and Sandy’s son or Pop’s grandson. He was a foster that they had taken in like a stray.
Before Hollis could say anything though, Pop answered. “Yes. He’s Matt and Sandy’s boy.”
Nancy nodded. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m new to Bloom, so I don’t know everyone here.”
“Bloom is a small town,” Hollis said. “Give it a few months and you’ll know everything about everyone here, down to their Social Security number.”
“Good to know. And yes, you should come to the dance. In fact, Nan’s granddaughter will be there too.”
“To take Nan?” Pop asked. “Nan hardly ever comes out of her room. Is she coming to the dance?”
“I hope so,” Hollis said. “Maybe you can refine your own flirting skills. But, uh, perhaps choose a different topic than the one you just used on me.”
Pop’s eyes grew a bit brighter. “You can ask Nan’s granddaughter to dance with you.”
“My guess is her dance card will be full.”
Pop looked at Hollis and offered a wink. “Maybe you can sweep her off her feet. And discuss dog poop.”
Nancy’s smile bottomed out. “I’m sorry?”
Hollis shook his head. “Inside joke.”
“I’m not joking, son.”
Hollis loved it when Pop called him “son,” even though he had never felt worthy. Glancing over at Nancy, he wondered if she was mentally chalking up this peculiar conversation as a symptom of Pop’s dementia. Hollis knew this was on-brand for his grandfather though.
“Do you think that tactic will work on Nan?” Hollis asked.
Pop shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think it will. I’ve never been at a loss for things to talk about with Nan though.”
“Well, first you’ll probably need to reintroduce yourself to her, Pop.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I don’t think so. Far as I know, Nan has never forgotten me.”
After leaving Memory Oaks, Hollis drove home and fed the dogs, taking a few extra minutes to work on his bond with Buster, the scraggly lab-mix who offered scared, brown eyes when Hollis slid a bowl of kibble in his direction.