“My brother is coming to pick me up,” Joe told Myrtle when she saw him in the hallway hanging up the phone. He figured the other old lady was still in the kitchen although the house was quiet.

“So, you’re not a homeless person then, are you?” Myrtle remarked, her dark brown eyes watching him like he was getting ready to make off with her fine china. Apparently Gladys was the softer side of this duo.

Joe gave her a smile hoping to dissuade her suspicion. “No, I’m not. Apparently I have a concussion, though,” he rubbed gently at his head – that did explain some things, “and I took off on my brother…. He’s a little miffed about that but my parents are flying home in a couple of hours so everything’ll be fine. They were in New York visiting my aunt.”

“Definitely not homeless then,” Myrtle repeated and then sighed. Her shoulders dropped as if they could finally let down their guard. Her face softened. “I’m glad to hear that. A concussion though? That doesn’t sound good. C’mon,” she took his arm and began to lead him back to the living room, “you best be sitting down until your family gets here.”

Her words seemed to remind him just how miserable he was feeling and Joe found himself leaning towards her strength, and marveled by how much of it there seemed to be. These old women were not what they seemed, and suddenly he felt incredibly lucky to have run into them.

“You took off on your brother?” Myrtle pushed him towards the couch and grabbed a shawl to cover him with. Joe didn’t protest. “Doesn’t sound too smart…especially not when you’re injured. Maybe I should call 911.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Frank already had me checked out. He gets a bit freaked when it’s me and a head injury…I’ve had trouble with ’em before. Once I got concussed and thought my brother was trying to kill me.” Joe shivered; he’d thought Frank had been an assassin. Thank God they hadn’t killed each other, although he’d certainly given his big brother new reason to respect his left hook…

The old woman stopped fussing with the shawl and cocked up an eyebrow. “Well it would appear, young man, that you might have an interesting tale or two to tell a couple of old women.” She smiled and Joe glimpsed the striking young woman hidden behind her age.

Letting himself sink down on the couch, Joe closed his eyes and sighed. “I think you might have one or two yourself.” Hearing her soft chuckle, he pressed. “Like why you don’t celebrate Christmas any more?”

“Oh that…” Myrtle sighed and Joe felt the end of the couch sink down when she sat. “Really not much to tell actually. Our nephew, Anson, used to come every year and get down our Christmas decorations – this is a small house as you can see, so we keep them in the attic usually – but this year he can’t…. He passed away in June, God rest his soul.”

Joe felt his eyes prickle. “I’m sorry to hear that.” His remorse was genuine.

Myrtle patted his leg and stood up. “Nonsense, nothing for you to be sorry about….He had a good life. It was just his time. Now if you’ll be okay, I’m going to go see what Gladys has gotten into. Those younger ones, magnets for trouble I tell you! ”

If only you knew…

Joe smiled and watched her leave; one hand moved to lightly rub at his stomach. The second gingerbread cookie was sitting like a lump. His eyes roved the bare room once again in distraction and he found himself wondering about the decorations in the attic.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

“Wow,” Hank was once again leaned forward, looking out the front windshield of the van, “Nice house.”

Frank parked and followed Hank’s gaze. The other man was right. While the house wasn’t very big, it was picketed by a white fence and looked very comfortable nestled under a heavy blanket of snow. More importantly, it looked loved and Frank just hoped that that meant his brother was telling him the truth when Joe said he was fine. Well as fine as he could be with a concussion and troubling bouts of missing time. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

Leaving the van running, Frank unlocked his door and started to get out. “I’ll be right back.” The sound of the other door being opened stopped him. “Uh, Hank? I think it might be better if you waited here.”

“Oh posh,” the scantily clad guy huffed. “I’m just as anxious to see your brother as you are!”

“But – ” even as he protested, Frank turned off the van. “I told you he’s not into guys. Not like you are anyway!”

“I know,” Hank hopped out of the van and then shivered slightly. “But just ‘cause I can’t order off the menu, doesn’t mean I can’t look!”

Bare butt cheeks in the breeze, Hank marched towards the front door and Frank had no choice but follow him. By the time he pressed the doorbell, the young sleuth decided he should get a medal for something.

Frank was just getting ready to press the doorbell again when the door finally opened, just a bit, and an elderly woman with grey hair and a kind face peeped out at them. “Yes?” she asked; her voice crackled with age and suspicion.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but my name is Frank—”

The door was immediately swung open and the woman reached for his arm. “Joe’s Frank! Of course, of course, come in! Come in!” If she thought anything about Hank’s attire she never said anything. “Poor lad, I’m so glad he’s got someone. The holidays are such a dreadful time to be alone.” She closed the door and waited while they toed off their boots.

“I appreciate you taking care of him.” Frank’s words were heartfelt as he followed her down the hall.

“Oh, he’s been no trouble at all,” the woman assured him. The house smelled warmly of gingerbread. “In fact he’s been an unexpected delight. It’s been a while since we’ve had any company, unless you count the plumber that Myrtle called for last week…. Personally, I don’t count company you have to pay for!”

Hank was walking so closely behind Frank that he bumped into Frank when the young sleuth suddenly stopped to go into a door on the right – the living room. Tossing a glare over his shoulder, Frank continued on into the room, letting out a relieved sigh when he finally saw his younger brother. Joe was stretched out on the couch with a bright red shawl draped loosely over his muscular body. Behind him, Hank gave an excited little chirp.

“Joe?” Frank crossed the room in a couple of long strides, his dark eyes already searching his pale sibling’s face for any sign of discomfort. He did keep out of striking range though until he saw recognition in the weary blue eyes that opened and looked at him. He smiled warmly at the relief he saw pass over his brother’s face.

“Frank,” Joe winced as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Frank helped when he got tangled up in the shawl. The eighteen year old started to say something else but froze when he saw Hank.

“Oh. Yeah. Uh Joe, this is – uh – Hank.” Might as well just get it over with. “He was giving me a hand – ” Joe’s eyebrows shot up and Frank immediately huffed, “finding you, you moron! Which I might add wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t punched me out and then took off!”

“He hit you?” the older woman interrupted Frank’s tirade, her blue eyes wide with shock as she looked at Joe. “But he seems like such a sweet boy – ” she then narrowed her gaze at Frank. “What did you do?”

Startled by the accusation, Frank squeaked out, “Me?” And then cleared his throat and added, “I didn’t do anything!”

“Ah, technically, that’s not true,” if this was Joe trying to be helpful – “you hit me with a tire iron.”

“Oh THAT you remember!” Frank groaned. “It was an accident. I’m sorry! I said I was sorry. I AM sorry! What else do you want me to do?”

“Want who to do what?” A new voice had the nineteen year old jerking around as another equally ancient woman hurried into the living room. “Is there a problem, Gladys? I’ve got my mace!” And she pulled a can out of the folds of her apron and shook it to prove it.

Oh brother, Frank mentally groaned. This just keeps getting better and better…!

“Mace?” Hank cut in, obviously feeling left out, “Ooh I’ve got a can just like that! Of course I don’t have it on me…”

“He hit Joe with a tire iron!” Gladys ignored Hank and pointed to Frank who held up his hands defensively. He really did not want to get maced –

“Joe? A little help here!” Frank hissed as he glanced back at his brother all the while trying to keep a lock on the mace-packing grandma.

The younger Hardy opened his mouth to say something, then turned a very interesting shade of green and threw up.