When I didn’t move, she looked up.

"The underwear is in the top dresser drawer and sweaters are on the middle shelf in her closet. No black lingerie and find the pink sweater with the pearl buttons."

After a pause, I muttered, "How would it be if I cut out the sudoku puzzle from this week’s Daniel Island News and you get the clothes?"

"Just be a help and get them, dear," Grace replied. "I’m busy collecting other items right now."

"Why me?" I pleaded. "Can’t you do it? I’ll get the other stuff."

Grace stopped packing, assumed an akimbo position, and scoffed, "Okay, but help me understand what you’re really saying. Are you telling me that you, the old, rascally Dalton Williams, are afraid to touch a woman’s undergarment?"

"No," I shot back, and then reconsidered the ramifications of my answer. "But not just any woman, I mean…" I stuttered, "not some women…what I’m trying to say here is…only yours…yeah, that’s it…geez, just not her’s."

It was Aunt Toogie’s fault Grace and I were embroiled in this bloomer brouhaha. On the Friday before Labor Day, Toogie broke her hip. Unlike many her age, the fracture was neither the result of osteoarthritis nor a fall. She had clipped a buoy in the Charleston harbor while riding an inner tube pulled on a towline behind Brevard’s boat. Grace had no idea that Toogie’s request to buy a new swimsuit was a precursor to this prank. She was appalled that a woman Toogie’s age would try such a stunt. The orthopedic surgeon was astonished that she even could! Brevard was devastated, of course, figuring his complicity in the caper was a bad break, so to speak, in his game plan to get back in Toogie’s good graces. So, while millions of Americans partook in the last barbeque of the summer, Toogie took on a new titanium hip. After a couple of days in the hospital, she moved to a rehabilitation facility where she has been amazingly regaining her strength and feistiness, although not necessarily in that order.

Grace and I were now headed to the rehab center with our fresh supply of requested clothing, reading material and sweets. During each daily visit Toogie presented us a new list of orders – do this task, take care of that errand, pick this up, pay these bills, deliver that. Always ready to accommodate, Grace just soothed, "Dalton will tend to everything, Dear. You just concentrate on feeling better."

I, on the other hand, was not fooled. While Grace poured out the milk of human kindness, Toogie was clearly milking the situation. Her demeanor wasn’t pluck to be praised, rather a sure sign she was regaining her natural state, pugnacity.

Yet, I made one more trip to the store specifically to procure one of Toogie’s requests.

"Stop at Publix," she had barked. "I bet the Halloween candy is on display. Get me some Hershey’s miniature medleys and a big bag of PayDays."

The cashier was ringing up my purchase when I noticed a young boy pointing toward me.

"This aisle, Mommy. There’s only an old guy and he’s almost finished," he squealed.

I hadn’t felt old, nor thought of myself as old, when I received an AARP card or qualified for the seniors’ discount at the movie theater. However, after hearing such a comment from such a little whippersnapper, I did. I responded by ripping open the bag of Paydays, pulling out an individual bar, and holding it toward the kid. He took a small step toward me and extended his hand. I quickly unwrapped the snack, popped the whole thing into my mouth, and turned on my heels. Heading toward the door, I could hear a commotion at the checkout lane behind me. ‘I may be an old guy, but I’m a rascally old guy,’ I gloated!

Now that silly act of selfishness seemed small as Grace spoke.

"As I see it, you feel uncomfortable gathering Toogie’s undergarments, right?"

I nodded.

"Yet, didn’t you tell me that she was the one who encouraged you to do well in school when you were young, took you to the library and bought you books?"

Again, I nodded.

"Is it so much to ask you to collect some necessary items for this kind, generous person?" Grace queried.

I nodded, sniffled, and assembled the apparel. As usual, Grace had cut to the heart of the matter. While many chase fame and fortune in their lifetime, one measure of living a good life could be: Is there someone in your life who will gladly fetch your undergarments when you require such assistance?

Toogie was sitting up in a recliner chair when we arrived. Her room was awash in fragrance and oxygen, spewed forth by the jungle of plants and fresh flowers sent daily by Brevard. Toogie pointed the remote at the wall-mounted television and muted the sound.

"Is he stupid or what?" she muttered.

"Brevard?" I prompted with a grin.

She answered, "No, O. J!"

"We brought the things on your list," Grace interrupted as she began unpacking the contents of the shopping bag.

Announcing each item retrieved from the tote, Grace led off with, "Two complete changes of clothes. I thought this pink cardigan sweater would look nice with the gabardine slacks. Don’t you agree?"

"You didn’t let Dalton touch my lingerie, did you?" Toogie inquired.

"Two books," Grace continued, ignoring the question. "This one is the latest release by Nicholas Sparks. I’m pretty sure you haven’t read it."

Toogie smiled again and leaned forward to peer inside the bag.

"A sudoku, crossword puzzle," Grace added, "and a couple sharpened pencils."

"Candy?" Toogie whispered.

Leaning closer to hear her, Grace replied, "Pardon?"

"She wants the candy," I interjected.

"Oh, yes," Grace concluded, pulling the prize from the pouch, "and two bags of your favorite miniature candy bars. Dalton picked them out himself. Judging from the rip in this one bag, I’d say he has already helped himself."

Toogie grasped the bags and grinned. She reached through the tear in the PayDay bag, pulled out a bar, unwrapped it, inspected the confectionary and then deposited it in her mouth.

Closing her eyes for a moment and savoring the sensation, she remarked, "Hmm, this brings back memories."

Taking another bar from the bag, she asked, "Dalton, do you remember when you were a young boy and I used to treat you to these?"

I had a vague sensation although no specific recollection.

"I saved all the leftover holiday candy in the ice box," she continued, handing me one of her treasures. "During the school year and summer months, you and I would walk to the library every Saturday. Each time you read a book, I’d reward you with a candy bar. I recall one summer you read well over 50 books and I went to Piggly Wiggly several times to replenish my stash."

I smiled and looked toward Grace who smiled back at me.

"Go ahead," Toogie motioned with her hand. "Have one."

I placed the PayDay in my mouth, chewed slowly, closed my eyes and allowed the rich nutty taste and the memory to unfold.

"Now, here’s what I want you to do," Toogie barked, breaking the tranquility. "I want you to read this Nicholas Sparks book aloud to me. My eyes aren’t up to all the strain. When you finish, I’ll give you another PayDay!"