Shrugging, I collected the cards, ensuring every corner was in perfect alignment before sliding the deck back into the case. I glanced at the clock. 2:53PM.
“He’ll be here,” Grams said, chuckling as she wheeled her chair away from the table and headed out to the living room. “You wait right there one minute. I have something for you.”
She had something for me?
I cleared my throat and stood from the table, sliding the deck of cards into the messy junk drawer Grams insisted on keeping messy.
Maybe a little straightening wouldn’t bother her . . .
“Step away from the drawer,” she said, wheeling back into the room. “I like it like that.”
“Just stacking the papers.”
“There’s a method to my madness. Now come back over here. I want to show you something.”
Closing the drawer, I glanced at my watch again. 2:55PM. I drew a deep breath, fixed a grin on my face, and turned around, heading toward her the same way I always did. Like things were the same as they always were.
She offered a weak grin and set a little blue velvet envelope on the table. “Here. Open this. I want you to have it.”
I frowned and resumed my place at the table beside her. “You didn’t have to get me anything. I’m just going back to camp.”
“I didn’t. Just. Open it.”
I peeled back the flap and opened the cover, revealing a shining silver chain resting across the velvet, a small princess cut, diamond solitaire glistening at the bottom. “Grams,” I said on a gasp.
Eyes welling, she patted her chest, studying the necklace.
What was going on with her this visit? Something was off. She didn’t do gifts. Especially not fancy ones. And, she never cried.
“Your Grandfather gave that to me about three hundred and eleven years ago. When he asked me to be his girl . . . ”
“Oh. I shouldn’t have it.” I traced the edges of the sparkling pendant.
“Yes, you should.” Her hand covered mine and she squeezed. “I love you, sweetheart, and I want you to think of me when you wear it. No arguments. Understand?”
“But, Gr—”
“Tut. Tut. No arguments, Mila Rose.”
I swallowed and she undid the clasp. “Now turn around.”
Complying, I set my fingertips over the diamond as she secured it. “There. Deserves to be worn instead of being cooped up in my closet forever. Now, you have fun, and be good, and don’t you worry about me.”
“I’ll try,” I said, ticking my finger on my kneecap. “I’m still calling every night at six to check on you.”
“Why?”
“So I know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I told you, just a little slow lately. No need to call in on me when you should be out having fun.”
“I know. But I want to.”
She huffed a breath and started humming as a knock sounded at the door.
“Must be Phyllis,” I said, re-securing the envelope.
“How do you know it isn’t your Nolan? He said he’d be here by three.”
“Nolan can barely remember his brain.” I scoffed. “It’d take a miracle for him to get anywhere on time . . . and he isn’t mine.”
“Agree to disagree there. I’ll get it.” Grams shot me a sassy grin and wheeled her chair toward the door. “Love you, Sweetie,” she added over her shoulder.
“Love you, too.”
Grams got lost in her conversation with her caretaker, Phyllis, in the living room. I poured a glass of sweet iced tea and headed out to the back deck, settling into one of her creaky old lawn chairs. The warm11AZZCAQ California breeze rolled softly through the tall grass in the yard, stirred through the big willow tree, and tugged at one of my stray brown hairs. I tucked it behind my ear and took a sip of tea, ignoring the panic in my chest. I’d made sure the house was clean, got her meds organized by frequency, printed out her dosage chart, and scheduled her appointments for the next month. The lawn could wait.
I drew a deep breath and released it softly. It would’ve been nice to spend my last few minutes with her before heading back up to camp, but she didn’t want me worrying about her. Too bad that’s all I ever did these days. I glanced at my watch again. 3:08PM. Taking another sip, I tapped my fingers on my knee, wondering if I should call Nolan.
His family lived five minutes down the road, so it wasn’t like he could get stuck in traffic or anything.
“There she is . . . ” His gentle voice rolled from the door behind me, putting my mind at ease in an instant.
I turned with a you’re-late-again look and tilted my head in anticipation.
He held his hands up in surrender, wincing. “Sorry. Sorry. Ginger wouldn’t let me leave—”
“She’s a dog, Nol.”
He set a hand over his heart and mock-gasped, the tips of his shaggy blond hair flicking beneath the ends of his backwards hat. “Don’t let her hear you say that. Hey, is that a new necklace?” He narrowed his eyes. “Did the Trent-ster give it to you?” His voice lost a bit of its bounce on that last part. Nolan wasn’t the biggest fan of my fiancé, Trent.
“Grams just gave it to me, actually.” I stood and repositioned the chair so the front left leg lined up with the groove on the deck. “Anyway, we have to be out of here by 3:30 at the latest, or we’ll be late to Lauren’s.”
“Right. Lauren.” He rolled his deep blue eyes and grunted. “Sure we have to give her a ride?”
I sighed. “Her car’s in the shop. Yes.”
Nolan headed for the kitchen and opened the fridge, bending over and scrubbing his strong jaw like he was debating the future of the country or something. Not that he ever would.
“Does your Grandma have any of those turnover things left?” he asked.
“You bet I do.” Grams rolled past me in her chair and stopped right next to Nolan, patting his arm. “Good to see you, Nolan. Now, move on over, and I’ll fix you a couple for the trip.”
I glanced at my watch again. 3:12PM. “Nolan. It’s almost 3:15.”
“No one’s gonna freak if we’re a few minutes late except you, Mi.”
Grams cackled, pulling a plastic-wrapped plate from the fridge. “You know her like the back of your hand.”
Glancing my way, he nodded, something nostalgic passing through his eyes. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone consider. “Basically.”
“Okay. Well, I’m heading out there.” I sighed. “Grams, I love you.” I stepped toward her, bending down to tuck her in a hug before I pressed a soft kiss to her hair.
She patted my hip. “I love you, too, baby. Stay safe, all right?”
“You too, Grams.” When she lifted her eyes, tears glistened inside, but she turned to Nolan like everything was fine.
Everything wasn’t fine.
Grams never cried.
-Nolan-
Mila’s Grams slid a few of her turnover things into a plastic baggie and handed them over.
“Thanks, Mrs. Hill,” I said, with a grin.
A weird panicky look swirled in her ancient green eyes, the same shade of sage as Mi’s. She gripped my wrist and pulled me closer. “You take care of my granddaughter now, understand?”
“Yeah.” I furrowed my brows, nodding. “I’ll get her there safe.”
She shook her head. “She needs you, boy. She thinks she has her life all figured out, but she’s so worried about the particulars, she forgets to have fun. Remind her how.”
Not gonna lie. I’d had a lot of strange conversations with Mrs. Hill over the last couple years, but none of them were as weird as this one.
“Okay. Yeah. Fun it is.”
She nodded, releasing my wrist to grip the arm rests on her wheelchair. Turning toward the window, she took a deep breath. “Don’t know how much longer the good Lord’ll let me stay. Just want to make sure she has someone here for her when I go.”
“Well, she has her man, right?”
Mrs. Hill scoffed. “If you can call
him that. A real man wouldn’t be gone so much if he really loved her. Especially not a hot shot like him. Anyway . . . better get out there before she has a conniption.”
“Will do.”
About thirty seconds later I was in the driver’s seat of my forest green 90’s Jeep Cherokee, raised suspension, manual, still humming. The perfect ride. I rubbed the wheel as the engine cooed at me. “Good job, baby,” I said to her, nodding. “You ready?” I asked, glancing over at Mila.
She chewed her bottom lip, twisting a strand of that chestnut hair around and around her finger, eyes fixed on Grams' front door.
“Mi?”
She turned her sights to the windshield and nodded. “She doesn’t want me to stay.” Her voice wavered, eyes glistening.
“You all right?” I wanted to reach out and touch her arm. Last year, I would’ve. But this year a colossal rock glared at me from her ring finger, sounding a code-blue trespassing alarm every time I looked at it.
“I’m fine,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Don’t sound like it.” I pulled out from the curb and released a weighted breath.
God, please give us a safe trip and help Mila with whatever’s going on . . .
She pressed a few buttons on her fancy smartwatch and sighed. “Something’s off with Grams.”
Yeah. Not sure what Mrs. Hill was trying to get past Mila, but she didn’t exactly consider the fact that Mila’s a next-level genius.
“She seemed like her normal, salty self to me,” I offered. Maybe a little less salt than usual.
“Today, she is. But her awareness comes and goes.” She adjusted her seatbelt and pulled her sunglasses from her bag, shaking her head. “You should’ve seen her last night. She could barely function, and she stared out the window for three hours straight. Her dimentia’s getting worse. I’m worried about her, Nol.”
Nol.
If anyone else in the world tried calling me that, I’d walk off. But I’d answer to any version of my name Mila decided to call me.
That was beside the point, though. If I was gonna live up to Mrs. Hill’s mission, I needed to get Mila thinking about something else.
Fun.
She loved plans. Maps were basically the same thing. “Mind setting the map to Lauren’s?” I asked, handing her my phone.
“I texted you her address last night.” She lifted my phone to her sea-green eyes.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t annoy you as much if I came prepared.”
She shook her head and handed the phone back to me. “You sound so sure.”
I grinned. “You know you love me.”
“How could I not?” A ping sounded on her phone and she glanced at her watch.
I tried to focus on the road, and the automated voice telling me to turn north onto the Interstate. I tried not to wonder who texted her, and why she looked so relieved about it. “That Trent?” I asked anyway.
She nodded. “His flight landed safely.”
“Awesome.” I tried to inject some kind of feeling into my voice, but the guy had been so elusive, I’d only met him at their engagement party last year. The guy was a total Charles with his straight-laced suit and tie, and his big foo-foo job, and his shiny black Lexus. Yeah, he could afford whatever life he wanted, and he was nice enough, but he was totally wrong for her. I tightened my grip on the wheel and sped toward the on-ramp. “Where was he going again?”
“He has a conference in Beijing.”
“Cool, cool . . . ” Not really, but what was I supposed to say? You’re marrying the wrong guy? Call it off STAT? Seriously, though. How could she not see it? “Is he still okay with you spending the summer at Bridgeport?”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t think it’s necessary, but he wants me to pursue my passions.”
“Still passionate about Bridgeport then?”
“Always.” She pulled out her chapstick, running it around her lips before she put the cap back on and slid it inside her bag.
I kept my eyes on the road, trying not to think about what those lips felt like on mine, trying not to feel the flash of pain the memory sent splitting through my chest . . .
It was five years ago.
We’re just friends.
She’s engaged.
She said it was a mistake.
“Nol?” she asked.
“Just a little tired.”
“We have time to stop for coffee if you want.”
I grimaced. “Coffee?”
She flashed me a cheesy smile. “I could use a cup. And, you can get a tea.”
“You could’ve just said you want one.” I winked and pulled off the Interstate. We rolled through the drive thru and I whipped out my wallet.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“What’s it look like?” I trailed my finger along my credit cards, picking the orange one.
She grunted. “You can’t afford it, Nolan. You need to pay off your balances.”
It was my turn to grunt. “You’re only young once, right? I’ll pay them off with my Bridgeport money.” Well, at least some of them.
I offered the barista my card before Mila could make a fuss about it and got back on the road in record time.
“You really shouldn’t do that,” she chided, sipping her drink.
“Try to do something nice for a friend and I get no thanks.”
She rolled her eyes. “Watching you self-destruct isn’t nice. Seriously, we should go over your finances while we drive.”
I cracked the window, trying to hedge my frown. “Maybe later.”
“You always say that.”
A new text pinged on her phone a few miles down the road.
“Oh,” she said, frowning.
“What’s wrong?”
“Trent says he met a new client on his flight. He has to fly to Paris after his conference to do an appraisal.”
“Meaning?”
She sighed. “Meaning, it’ll be another two weeks before I see him again.”
“I’m sorry, Mi.” I took a sip of my tea, ignoring the burn in my gut at the whole situation. What kind of guy does that to someone as awesome as Mi?
“It’s part of his job,” she said, with a shrug. “I just have to get used to it. I wish he’d at least ask before he plans another trip though. That’s the deal we made.” She cleared her throat and tapped her finger on her knee in that way she did whenever she was scheming. She studied me, narrowing her eyes.
“What’d I do?”
“Lauren said you took Hannah Nash on the zipline last week?”
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Acknowledgments
First and foremost, thank you to my Lord and Savior, for Your love for me and Your plan for my life, and for the inspiration to write these stories! Secondly, thank you to my wonderful, loving husband who first suggested that my love for reading, and passion for writing, was a combination I should explore. Without you soldiering for me while I wrote, this book would have never happened. I love you! Thank you to my awesome parents, for your belief in me and your support as I’ve spent the last five years figuring this author thing out.
Thank you to my developmental editor, Kelley Lynn, who took a pile of story bones and helped me construct it into the novel it is today. Thank you to my critique partners, Rachel John and Kellie M. Parker, true gems who powered their way through the earliest version of this manuscript and gave critical input, before the editing magic happened. Thank you to my beta readers, April Smith, Arielle Hadfield, and Tawni Suchy, who were the first to read through the newest version and found the final fatal story flaws. Thank you to my proofreader, Roxana, and, finally, thank you to YOU, for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Emery and Tucker’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it!
If you’re looking for more Bridgeport Lake read
s, or if you’d like to keep in contact, please visit my website at:
http://www.daniellearie.com
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