“Heard what?” I asked the handset. It was my sister. No “hello,” no “How are you?” She never introduces herself; always gets straight to the point.
“About Granddad. His new thing. His walk. The tightrope thing. Across the canyon. Is it true?”
“Yep, sure is. How’re you, by the way? And, whatever happened to our agreement not to phone me at three Ante Meridiem?”
“Tell me about Granddad. What’s he doing? You gonna stop him?”
“Can’t. It’s on his bucket list. Has to do it, has to tick the box. The riggers are already busy putting in the anchors. The mayor’s promised to meet him at the finish. The TV people will be there. How’re the kids?”
“Dammit, John, the man’s eighty six. He can hardly walk without sticks anyhow. He’s nearly blind, and he’s got the shakes. What’s the story here?”
“ I know, I know. You’re right. He shouldn’t be doing it. Maybe I’ll have a word.”
“A word! A word! You need to stop him. Call the cops if necessary!”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. Again. I’ll fix it. Now let me get some sleep.”
That sister of mine is a real busybody. Always has been.