Bonnie Kisses
Bonnie Booth-Hodgins stood in the doorway to her Grandpa B's suite waiting tensely for the plaid blanket over his chest to rise. When, finally, she saw the slight movement, she took a relieved breath herself, and walked quietly into the room. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully; his head was tipped back and a bit to one side, resting comfortably in the indentation long usage had worn into the recliner's back cushions. His pallid skin and thinning white hair contrasted starkly to the dark brown leather, adding to the impression of frailty. She felt a sharp pang in the area of her heart. She wasn't ready to lose him, not so soon after Grammy T, but he had already celebrated his ninetieth birthday…
Suddenly, one of his eyes opened just a crack. The sly, old fox! "Gramps, you faker! You really had me going there!"
Her grandfather straightened, and regarded her with faded chocolate-brown eyes. "Had to make sure it wasn't your mother come to pester me with her pills and potions," he grumbled. "Well? What're you waiting for, Bonbon?" He removed an age-mottled hand from under the blanket, and tapped his bristly cheek.
"Gramps, you're incorrigible!" She bent down and delivered a hearty smack on the spot indicated. "You know I don't like that nickname!"
"Tell me who in their right mind names their child 'Bonita Angel?' It's un-American!"
Bonnie dragged a nearby ottoman up to one side of the raised footrest, and settled down on it. "The first half is, I grant you. It's Spanish for 'pretty,' as I'm fairly sure you know. You don't think it suits me?" She pulled a long face, to tease him.
"Aw, go on with you! I've told you many times you're the most beautiful granddaughter I have."
"And, that meant something to me when there was some chance you'd have another, but it looks like that ship has sailed. Now, if you were to name your most handsome grandson, that would be worth a listen."
"You think I won't?" He gestured to the book shelves opposite crowded with framed family photographs. "Fetch me last year's reunion photo. You know the one."
She jumped up and did his bidding, bringing back a photo enlargement of a picture taken the previous July out at the summer house: two rows of grandkids, the eldest standing and the youngest kneeling in front of them against a backdrop of blue lake water edged by dark green conifers under an azure sky. She placed the picture in her grandfather's gnarled hands, and stood over his shoulder while he considered it.
"You probably think one of your brothers gets the nod," he said, gruffly.
"Junior has Grandpa Hodgin's blue eyes going for him, and Maximillian has something of Grammy A's exotic looks, but, if I'm going to be unbiased, my vote has to go elsewhere."
"That right? Hank III and Reese still have some growing up to do before the verdict is in on them, so I'm going to have to say…" He pointed out the serious, thirty-something man with the receding hairline standing next to her. "Stinson."
"Sonny? Really, Gramps? Ha! I see what it is: you won't choose Eddie, the obvious answer, because everyone says he's the spitting image of you when you were his age! He's got the dark good looks, the raffish charm, the roguish twinkle. He's the ladykiller in the family."
Her grandfather gathered his dignity about him, and handed the photo up to her. "I wouldn't know about that. Besides," he added, as she moved to put the picture back in its usual place, "handsome is as handsome does."
"Spoken like the true sage you are." She returned to take up her place, almost literally, at his feet, but then, had a thought. "Can I get you anything, Gramps? A snack, or something to drink?"
"Yeah, sure. A tumbler of Scotch would be good."
Bonnie wagged an admonishing finger at him. "Behave yourself. What would your doctor say?"
"Entirely too much for my liking," he groused. "A man my age has few enough vices left. I should be allowed to indulge myself once in a while. And, if you mention the word 'Ensure' to me, I won't be responsible for my actions."
She sank back down on the ottoman, and took his hand in hers. "Poor baby! It must be so awful for you, having a family who dotes on you and wants to see you live to be a hundred."
"Yeah? Well, who asked you?" His tone was cranky, but she could tell his heart really wasn't in it. "I've lived a good, long life, had more than my fair share of blessings. All this?" He waved a hand at his comfortable surroundings. "It's the final boarding area, and I'm just waiting for my flight to be called."
She hated to hear him talk that way. "You can call me selfish if you want, but I hope that flight is delayed indefinitely. I need you here."
He snorted, equal parts annoyed and amused. "What possible use am I to you, Candy Kane?"
"Wow! I haven't heard that one in a long time, and it's not much of an improvement over 'Bonbon,' just so you know." She sat back, and ran her hands over her thighs, smoothing the denim with clammy palms. "You could advise me, Gramps. You see, I'm having dinner with Trev tonight. At La Coupole…"
He nodded appreciatively. "Swanky. That'll cost a bundle. Can this 'Trev' character afford it?"
"Gramps!" Bonnie remonstrated, "You've known Trev for years. Trevor Wyndham-Pryce?"
"The name does ring a bell." The famous twinkle shone in his eyes, and his lips twitched in a poorly-suppressed smile. "But, my memory these days…"
She heaved a disgusted sigh for his amusement, and fetched another photo from its shelf. "This was taken the night of the Charity Dreamworks Ball, two years ago. The Wyndham-Price Foundation is one of the major sponsors." She allowed herself to linger a moment over the picture. Trev looked particularly handsome in his black tie, the Scandinavian coloring he'd inherited from his mother highlighted in contrast. He'd just started wearing his white-blond hair cropped very short, revealing his high, broad forehead, and throwing his arrow-shaped nose and sharp cheekbones into relief. His deep blue eyes under barely-there brows were frank and forbearing, and his slight smile spoke of urbanity and quiet confidence. He had one arm around her waist; she had leaned her head against his temple.
When his turn came, it was immediately apparent from the sudden sheen of tears that her grandfather was not inspecting Trev. "You… look so much like her," he said, blinking furiously. "With your hair pulled back, and your shoulders bare. She had a black lace dress like that one once, with a diamond bow at the waist…"
Bonnie could have kicked herself. She ought to have remembered. When, in anticipation of Trev's arrival, she had laughingly presented herself for her grandmother's approval, Grammy T had insisted on lending her the sparkling butterfly-clasp belt as well as a single-strand diamond necklace with a brilliant trefoil pendant and its matching drop earrings. She had been a walking king's ransom that night. Trev had been dazzled.
Grandpa B cleared his throat, and handed the photo back to her. "I remember the boy, now. Been hanging round you since grade school. Old family, pots of money, society pages. You played mixed doubles at the club, right? Won a few championships?"
"One or two," she said, modestly. In truth, they'd been an unbeatable combination. "I always thought you liked him."
"What's not to like: courteous, respectful, good head on his shoulders, Harvard Law… Being groomed to take over the family business, I expect."
"Oh, he's set his sights higher that the state legislature, Gramps, count on it. We're talking oval office or bust here."
He raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Ambitious. More power to him, I say. You could do worse. 'Course, he couldn't do better."
"Gramps, you old flatterer, you!" She scrambled to her feet, and, leaning over him, bussed both his cheeks soundly.
When she pulled back, he was grinning up at her. " 'Say I'm sorry, say I'm sad… Say I'm growing old, but add, Bonnie kissed me'."
'What's that, Gramps?"
"Hm? Just part of an old poem your grandma used to love. Don't they teach you anything in school these days?"
"With a chemistry major and an art history minor, I didn't have much time for literature courses as an undergrad, and since graduation, I've been concentrating on my fine art classes and studying for my painting conservation certificate."
"I was just playing with you, Sweet Tart. I know you work hard. So… what's this advice you think I can give you?"
She twisted her hands together in her lap. "I'm pretty sure tonight's the night. Trev sent a dozen beautiful roses, and then, there's the reservation at an expensive restaurant… He's going to propose, Gramps."
"That's the standard scenario," he agreed. "I know your Grandpa Hodgins tried it that way once, for all the good it did him." He raised a hand to his face, and scratched his chin reflectively. "I still don't see what you need from me."
"What do I tell him, if he asks, Gramps? How can I be sure he's the one?"