Page 55 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

“Why don’t you sit here next to Arthur?” Maisey said as she nudged me further into the house. I recognized this as a ruse to get me closer to the old man. Taking his temperature and oxygen levels without his knowledge would be impossible, but all I needed was proximity to listen to his breathing. It had been years since I’d done any actual nursing, and I’d never been all that enthusiastic about it to begin with, but he certainly looked like he was in full fighting form. “I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.”

“I have nothing to say to that man.” Arthur shifted to take up twice as much space on the cushion. “He can sit on the floor next to Sloane.”

“Don’t be such a grouch, Arthur.” Sloane actually picked up a pillow and tossed it at him. “Mateo’s here as my guest, which means we’ll treat him with the respect he deserves.”

She smiled at me in a way that made it impossible for me to flee. Like it or not—and I wasn’t sure that I did—I was an official coconspirator now. Especially since Greg was blocking my only exit.

“Next to Octavia, Mateo knows more about literature than anyone,” Sloane added. “Plus you need to kiss up to him if you want access to the good library books from now on. He recently got a seat on the acquisition board.”

As I lowered myself to the couch, my whole body tensed against attack. Arthur rolled a knowing eye at Sloane. “Is that a fact? Are we talking about the same seat you quit your job over because they didn’t give it to you?”

“Arthur!” Maisey’s voice took a decidedly sharp turn. “She was fired because ofyou, remember?”

He sniffed. “I remember what she told us. But if a miserable old wretch like me is worth losing a job over, this is the first I’m hearing of it. I was her excuse, nothing more.”

I wasn’t sure how or why I found the courage, but I darted out my hand and grabbed the old man by the wrist. With a quick glance at the clock on the mantelpiece, I counted the beat of his pulse in time to the ticking seconds. His heartbeat was steady and strong, his body tense as he waited for Sloane to respond.

“The situation was more…complicated than that,” she eventually said.

“Calculus is complicated. Quitting your job to take care of a useless old wreck like me is nothing short of foolish.”

This exchange felt a little more earnest than the ones I usually witnessed between Sloane and Arthur. Less playful and barbed, more like the personal attack I’d overheard on that last day. But not, I thought, completely wrong.

Apparently, everyone else in the room disagreed with me.

“Well, if that isn’t the biggest load of garbage I’ve ever heard,” Maisey said. “After everything she’s sacrificed, it’d serve you right if she walked out that door and took us with her, leaving you alone with your books and your attitude and your…your…”

“Your equally miserable grandson,” Greg said, taking a firm stance. “Believe me, Pops, when I say that’s the last thing either of us wants happening.”

A stalemate might have descended then, but Arthur growled and yanked his wrist away.

“Let go of me,” he muttered, rubbing his wrist as though I’d bruised it.

I wasn’t displeased with my medical findings. As that yank proved, there was good muscle tone in him, and I could see his pupils flaring under the living room lights exactly the way they should. I might not have been as medically trained as, say, Brett Marcowitz, but I knew a healthy old man when one was flailing around next to me.

“I don’t know why you’re all ganging up on me,” Arthur added mulishly. “This ismyhouse andmybook club. You’re only here because I allow it.”

He turned to me then, his finger outstretched in warning. I was so pleased with my ability to detect no wavering in that steady, unerring hand that I didn’t realize he’d turned all his wrath on me until it was too late.

“You. Needlepoint Boy.”

I ducked. “Um, can I pick a different nickname?”

“How much does that lady give you at the library? The one you kiss and scrape to every day of your life?”

Needlepoint Boy was bad enough, but that was taking things too far.

“As in, how much does she donate to the library?” I cast an inquiring look at Sloane. That sort of thing had always been more her purview than mine. Very little went on around the library without her knowing about, planning for, and wholeheartedly engaging in ahead of time.

Her next words proved it. “I couldn’t give you anexactfigure, but I know there are five of them,” she said.

“Is that all?” Arthur gave another of those harrumphs, but this one felt more triumphant than antagonistic. “Fine. Go to your boss tomorrow and tell her I’ll double that woman’s donation, provided no one asks me to join one of their stupid classes again.”

At the inevitable gasps of outrage that resulted, Arthur actually cackled.

“If I’d have known how easily you’d all pander to rich eccentrics, I’d have done this years ago,” he said. “Can I make other stipulations, too? I think everyone should have to wear turtlenecks on Tuesdays.”

“Arthur, it doesn’t work like that—” Sloane began.