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more. Those two were the best of friends. The four of us had some really good times together,” Jim says, shaking his head slightly as if recalling fond memories.
    “And your dad,” Jim says, smiling and causing the wrinkles around his eyes to crinkle. “I think I loved him as much as I loved my own daughter. He was really something special.”
    Myra nods and wipes the tears in her eyes.
    “He was such a good man. One of the finest men I’ve ever met. He was truly one of a kind.” Jim takes Myra’s hand into his own; it’s been twisted by arthritis, but he manages to rub her hand gently. “Sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just wanted to let you know how special your family was to me; and how special you are to me.”
    “I know,” Myra says before throwing her arms around Jim’s neck, choking on a sob. “Thank you,” she whispers. Jim will never know how much his words mean to her as she tucks them away in her heart.
    * * *
    “I don’t have much for dinner; how about some turkey sandwiches?” Myra suggests before picking up a box of kitchen utensils.
    “Sounds wonderful. Did I ever tell you the story about when your dad went biking?” Jim asks as he follows Myra into the kitchen.
    “No,” Myra says, knowing full well she’s heard the story dozens of times, but longs to hear it again. Jim sits at the table as Myra starts preparing the sandwiches.
    “Your dad must’ve been around eleven or twelve, and he got a new bike. He was so excited, he could barely contain himself. So he headed off, and it was sunny out so he had sunglasses on, the big kind that were so popular with all the young kids back then.” Jim makes big, comical circles with his hands around his eyes imitating glasses. Myra nods and giggles as she hands Jim a sandwich.
    “Your grandfather and I were sitting on the porch, enjoying the beautiful day and drinking a beer when all of a sudden here your father comes, covered in mud from head to toe, except where those sunglasses were. He’d hit a root or a rock or something and went flying over the handlebars face first into a puddle. Your grandfather and I laughed until our sides…”
    Jim stops talking when the lights in the kitchen flicker on and off.
    “That’s weird,” Myra says as she frowns and looks up at the light fixture on the ceiling. Abruptly, all of the lights in the entire house go off.
    “ Okay ,” Myra says to Jim in the darkness.
    A moment later, the lights come back on. Jim’s bushy eyebrows pull together as he stares up at the ceiling. “Hm. You must have an electrical problem somewhere. I guess you've noticed by now this place isn't exactly in the best shape. Your grandfather didn’t do much upkeep the last few years or so.”
    “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Myra agrees as she glances at the cabinet door leaning up against the wall and thinks about the hole in the ceiling upstairs.
    “For some reason, Davis got very miserly in his last years. Felt like he couldn’t spend a dime on anything other than necessities. I tried to get him to hire someone to do some work, but he wouldn’t do it. You know how stubborn he was.” Jim raises an eyebrow.
    Myra smiles and nods in agreement.
    “I have someone you can call. He did some work on my house a few months back; did a real good job. Let me run over to the house and get his card.”
    Jim returns within minutes handing Myra a business card. “Just call that number and set up an appointment for an estimate. He’ll put everything in writing before you agree to anything.”
    Myra glances down at the card.
    Dylan Lawson, Contractor
    “Thanks,” she says as she tucks the card in her jeans. “Let’s call it a day. I can’t thank you enough for all of your help.” She leans in and gives him a hug.
    “Not a problem, sweetheart. I have to go into the bookstore in the morning to take care of a few things, but I should be home by late afternoon. I’ll stop by and see if we can get the rest of these boxes cleared