Brainy and the Beast by J. M. Cartwright Read Free Book Online Page B

again.
    Henry smiled, this time actually showing his teeth. For a moment, the slight overlap of the front two caught my attention. “I’ll need your address to pick you up.”
    “Oh.” Yeah, like I’d let him anywhere near Grant again. Or worse, my dad. “Maybe I’d better, uh, meet you somewhere.”
    “Okay. If that’s what you’d prefer.” Henry tossed his keys in his hand, and once again, the movement caught my attention. “How about if we meet at Lovell’s? Are you familiar with it?”
    Who wasn’t? “Yeah. I haven’t eaten there, but I was planning on taking my dad there for his birthday next month.” Former NASA astronaut Jim Lovell and his family had opened the restaurant in 1999.
    Outside, I could see Grant pacing impatiently by our car. I gave him the evil eye, just in case he could see through the window.
    “All right. Then I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven.” Henry pulled the door open.
    “Yeah. Okay.”
    * * * *
    I was halfway home with Grant and the dogs before I realized Henry had left without his invoice. “Damn it.”
    “I didn’t do anything.” Grant was still sullen.
    “Uh, yeah, you did, but that’s not what I was cranking about.” I spun the wheel to turn onto Rockland Road. “I forgot something at the shop, that’s all.”
    My house was all that was left of an old farm up in Knollwood, and it dated from the late nineteenth century. I’d bought it eleven years ago from an elderly grandson of the original owner. The old guy hadn’t wanted to sell to a developer, and I’d gotten lucky. Over the last decade, I’d traded some work on the house for work at the garage, and so far I’d gotten the roof repaired and a good amount of the plumbing fixed. The electrical was still kind of haphazard, with a bit of updating done by the previous owner, but every now and then, we got a reminder of the age of the wiring when we popped a fuse.
    I pulled into our gravel drive and parked off to the side, in front of the detached garage. My dad’s Lincoln was near the kitchen door, so I was pretty sure dinner would be ready soon. My stomach rumbled right on cue.
    Once again, Grant tried to hop out as soon as the car stopped. I grabbed his arm. “You want to tell me what the hell you were trying to do back there?” I was hard put not to growl the words.
    The kid stared straight ahead. “No.”
    “What do you mean, no?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Giving up, I released him with a sigh. “Whatever. Go wash up and help Gramps set the table.” Why did I think that because I’d been a teenager once, I could figure this one out?
    I let the dogs out and walked back to the mailbox before going inside. The house sat on five acres, and I counted myself lucky to have been able to afford a parcel this size in northern Lake County. McMansions on a minimum half acre surrounded me, and my old farmhouse managed to hide behind loads of old trees. The rambling white frame structure didn’t exactly match the modern idea of squeezing a huge house onto a small parcel of land. It was one of the things I liked most about it. I knew the dogs loved it. They could rustle up squirrels and chase chipmunks until they were blue in the face and never leave my property.
    I shrugged off my jacket, then hung it on one of the hooks in the mudroom before poking my head into the kitchen. “Smells good.”
    “Uh-huh.” My dad kept stirring whatever was in the pot. “I made spaghetti from your mom’s old recipe. Thought I’d give it another try.”
    Really. “That sounds all right.” Last time hadn’t turned out so well, though. Kicking my work boots to the tray, I stripped off my coveralls and threw them into the laundry basket that sat next to the washer and dryer. That’s when I noticed the basket was overflowing. I walked through the kitchen to yell, “Grant!”
    “I think he went up to his room. Seemed in kind of a hurry. You boys get into something?” Dad reached into the fridge and pulled out a chunk of