The Troll

Annette pulled up outside Doug’s place and beeped her horn. He hurried out, pulling on his jacket and folded his lanky frame into her little car. Beaming, he leaned over for a kiss. Annette reciprocated eagerly, then pushed him away.

“No more for now. You’re going to have to decide if you still want to be engaged to me after you’ve met the troll.”

“What are you talking about?” Doug said, puzzled. “You said you need my help on a mission? All very mysterious and intriguing.”

Annette laughed as she merged into traffic.

“We are going to visit my grandfather, known to me as the troll. Don’t tell my mother I call him that.”

“He lives under a bridge?”

“No, he moved into an apartment in a retirement complex recently. My grandmother died a couple of months ago and he just couldn’t manage at home by himself. After he’d fallen twice and set the stove on fire once, my mother got social services involved and they found him this place. He’s so mad about it that he’s still not speaking to my mother. She delegated me to see how he’s getting on.”

 “How come you’ve never mentioned any of this before?” said Doug.

Annette glanced at him nervously.

“It’s not the kind of stuff you hit someone with at the beginning. I wanted to see where things went with us first. Then it just never seemed to be the right time. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Doug said cheerfully. “Every family has its issues. I may have forgotten to mention my uncle, the insane axe murderer.”

“Axe murderer? You’re kidding, right?”

Doug chortled.

“You forgot my sick sense of humor. The one that made you fall in love with me.”

“If I wasn’t driving right now, I’d slap you,” Annette said, grinning.

“Seriously, though, why do you call him a troll?”

“You’ll see. When I was little, I had a fairy tale book about trolls. He looked just like the illustrations. Big bushy eyebrows, knobby nose, always glaring at you. I was scared of him. Grandma said his bark was worse than his bite. She was half his size, a little sweet-tempered lady, but she had a backbone of steel. A certain look from her and he would pipe down. There’s been no one to stand up to him since she died. Here we are.”

She turned through imposing entrance gateposts which opened onto a meandering driveway. It led through lush grounds and ended in front of an imposing mansion where she parked.

“My goodness,” said Doug as they approached the carved wooden entrance doors. “Very impressive. Can’t be cheap.”

“He’s got plenty of money, but he always acts as if he’s one step away from the poor house.”

They signed in at the reception desk and followed directions down a long hallway.

“This was a wealthy factory owner’s estate. It’s been converted into retirement apartments, or as the brochure says, gracious senior living. There’s a communal dining room and all kinds of fancy amenities. Here we are. Now, quick warning. For all his cheapness, he keeps the thermostat cranked up to tropical heat. He’s deaf as a post, especially when he wants to be, but refuses to wear his hearing aids. He never was politically correct, but he’s lost any filter he ever had since Grandma died.”

She rapped firmly on the door with the brass knocker. They waited. She knocked louder.

“Grandpa! Are you there?”

“The rest of the building will know we’re here, even if he doesn’t,” said Doug, wincing as Annette beat a tattoo on the door. She jumped back as it suddenly opened a crack and a beady eye glared at them.

“Where do you think I’d be? Your mother dumped me here, didn’t she? You might as well come in.”

“You’re right. I get the troll thing now,” Doug whispered as they entered. They threaded their way through a short passage lined with stacks of boxes, emerging into a pleasant living room with a kitchen alcove. There were large bay windows which overlooked the gardens.

“Who’s this?” the old man snapped, plunking himself down in a large armchair. “Sit down there, both of you.”

“This is my fiancé, Doug,” Annette said as she and Doug obediently sat down on the sofa.

Her grandfather scanned Doug from head to toe, then gave a dismissive sniff.

“Better than some of the sorry looking fellows she’s dated. You’d better treat her right. Might want to think twice about getting involved with this family though. Bunch of bossy women. To think my daughter, my own flesh and blood, parked me here with a bunch of decrepit old people.”

“Grandpa, you know mom only wants the best…” Annette began, before Doug interrupted.

“I appreciate the warning. If I need advice on bossy women, can I come to you?”

He winked at Annette who bit off an indignant reply.

“Humph. Don’t try to butter me up,” the old man said, glowering.

“Grandpa, you’ve been here for two weeks. Why haven’t these boxes been unpacked? You might feel more at home if you had your own things around you. We could help,” Annette said.

“Everyone and their brother have offered to unpack them, from the director of this so-called establishment to the woman who brings the meals. But I haven’t decided if I’m going to stay, and you can tell your mother I said so.”

He directed a defiant look at Annette. Before she could say anything, Doug chimed in.

“Annette’s been telling me about her grandmother. She sounds like a special lady. Do you have a picture of her?”

The old man stared fixedly out of the window.

“She was special. Fifty-two years together. Wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

Doug nudged Annette who was staring at her grandfather, aghast, as a tear trickled down his face. He indicated the kitchenette. She jumped to her feet.

“What? Oh, yes. Grandpa, we’re parched. Can I make some tea for everyone?”

The old man nodded and shivered, seeming to shrink into the chair.

“Help yourself. Just don’t ask me where anything is.”

She returned with mugs of tea after a few moments.

“This tea is so weak, it’s helpless. It’s warm and wet and that’s about all you can say for it. Your grandmother was the only one who could make tea right,” her grandfather said, slurping noisily.

Doug hastily stepped on Annette's toe before she could retort. She took a deep breath and stared into her mug with a grim expression.

“Why don’t we look for that picture of your wife? We can always pack things away again if you decide to leave,” Doug said.

“Oh, alright. I can see I’m not going to get a moment’s peace until I agree. Let’s start with that box there since you seem to have nothing better to do.”

Doug opened the box carefully and began to unpack.

“Look at that. Isn’t that Dresden china?” he said, holding up a pretty porcelain figurine.

The old man fumbled for his glasses and peered at it.

“She loved her doodads. I got her that for her birthday one year.”

“Grandma was right. You do have a sentimental side,” Annette said, smiling.

She placed the ornament carefully on a shelf and hugged her grandfather. He stiffened, then relaxed and patted her hand.

“I can hear her voice now. She’d tell me to stop being such a miserable old you-know-what. I miss her something terrible.”

“And this?” said Doug, shaking out an embroidered tablecloth. “Did she make it?”

“Yes, she spent hours on needlework. I guess it can go on that table.”

They had almost emptied the box when the old man gave a cry of triumph.

“There she is.”

He held up a black and white photograph of a smiling young woman in an old-fashioned silver frame.

“That picture was taken when we got engaged. You two had your pictures done yet?”

Doug and Annette looked at each other.

“Uh, no, Grandpa. We weren’t thinking of anything very formal like that…”

He looked at them both over his glasses, eyebrows bristling like hairy caterpillars.

“See that you do. I want to put you on the wall beside her. You favor her. Oh, and you can tell your mother to come visit me whenever she wants. She'd better hurry up though, in case I don't stay here long.”

Annette smothered a smile.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Doug said, with a straight face. “Do you want us to come back next week and help you to unpack the rest of this stuff?”

“That would be fine. Ought to keep you two out of trouble. I might be ancient now, but I still remember what shenanigans your grandmother and me got up to.”

To their surprise, he began to laugh creakily.

“Off you go now. You’ve got better things to do than hang around with a grumpy old man. See you next week.”