Nancy Warren - Just One Night

He wrapped his hand around the handle and tried out the cane. It was a little on the short side but he wasn’t going to complain. Strangely, clutching the spot where his grandmother’s hand had gripped made him feel better, connected to her in some sentimental fashion that still comforted. “How did you know?”

“Doc called me. He said you could use your grandmother’s cane.” She seemed a lot warmer than last time he’d seen her. As though she genuinely cared.

“My doctor called you?” His shock must have shown because she laughed. “So much for doctor-patient privilege.”

“Your grandmother had quite a network. They all know each other and their business. And their friends’ business, and their friends’ grandsons’ business.”

“He told me to go get crutches.”

“I know. And he told me you wouldn’t. He said to tell you to use the cane on the opposite side to your bad leg.”

He switched the cane to the other hand. “Huh.”

“Where are you going?” she asked him. “Do you want a ride?”

He shook his head. Under the blue glow from her umbrella, her eyes were as blue as the sky would be if you could see it. “Only tourists use umbrellas,” he informed her.

“And people who actually care about their appearance.”

“I’m heading for that coffee shop over there,” he said, hoping he sounded casual, as though he’d be there in a couple of minutes, no biggie.

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