"I really hope when you wake up from this medicine that we can finally have this out once and for all," she told him, her voice dropping into a dear, solemn vow. "Because I've made my decision, George Heart. I'm not leaving this beach this time. Even if you wake up furious, even if I have to buy a house down the road because you don't want me back under your roof. I'm staying right here in Sweet Blossom Bay."
She kissed his hand gently.
“I love you George Heart,” Anna whispered softly. I have loved you since the moment I first saw you standing awkwardly at that garden party. I’ve loved you from afar for the past forty years, and I love you more than ever before as I sit right here next to you.”
Her heart lurched as his fingers twitched and then his big warm hand closed over hers. His eyes remained closed and a tear leaked out the side of his eyelid.
“Anna…” George fought to open his eyes. “I… love… only… you.” His hand squeezed hers. “Dont… leave. Wait…. Please.” Then the grip on her hand loosened and his breathing steadied out.
Anna sat there gaping. Her heart beating so wildly against her ribs it was as it if it was trying to get out to reach George. Her stomach clenched and the love she felt for warmed the last remaining ice in her veins.
“I’m right here, George," Anna whispered. “I’m not going anywhere ever again.”
ISABEL
Isabel knelt on the edge of the damp excavation grid inside the pool basin, her fingers carefully brushing a layer of dark soil away from a smooth pottery shard. Beside her, Emma, Sophia, and Lily were clearing dirt from their own squares, their voices echoing off the concrete walls in a cascade of laughter and light chatter. It was a beautiful sight, but Isabel kept fracturing her attention, her gaze shifting toward the arched entrance of the courtyard every few minutes.
"Where did everyone go?" Sophia asked, pausing to wipe her brow with the back of her wrist, leaving a tiny smudge of gray clay near her hairline. "Gran has been gone a long time, but then so has Uncle Michael, Maggie, Owen, and Martin." Her brow furrowed as she looked around the empty perimeter. "Aunt Anna isn't here either."
"They had something important to attend to up at the main building," Isabel told them, smoothing out her tone to keep any hint of the hospital emergency out of her voice. "I doubt they'll be much longer."
Her heart skipped a beat against her ribs the moment she pronounced Owen's name, her thoughts automatically drifting back to the heavy, breathtaking connection they had shared right before he rushed out of the property.
"Maybe they've gone to see Uncle George," Lily suggested, leaning over her collection tray. "Granddad said he had a mild turn this morning, and that's why we couldn't go up to see him in his suite today." She turned an analytical look toward her cousin Sophia.
"Yeah, Gran told me that too," Sophia confirmed, a sudden flash of worry clouding her young eyes as she set her hand trowel down. "I really hope he's okay."
"I'm sure they'd let you know immediately if his condition changed," Isabel assured her, reaching across the grid to offer a comforting nod. "Although I think his coming home to the hotel may be delayed a bit again."
"Poor Uncle George." Sophia sighed, her shoulders dropping. "He can't be too happy having to stay inside a hospital room."
"He absolutely hates them," Lily told everyone, shaking her head.
"I think we all do," Isabel agreed with a soft chuckle, glad to steer the focus back to the artifacts.
"So... Gran..." Emma began, her tone shifting into a casual, rhythmic cadence that instantly made Isabel's guard go up. "You and Owen..."
Isabel's spine stiffened against the rim of the basin, her muscles locking as she realized exactly where this conversation washeading. She had been wondering when they would loop back to her ping-pong accident with Owen earlier in the laboratory.
"He's my boss," Isabel told them, her voice flat and even as she picked up her sorting brush. "Nothing more."
"Uh-huh," Lily said, nodding her head slowly with a knowing grin. "Okay, if you say so."
"I do say so, now drop the subject permanently," Isabel warned them, trying to project an air of maternal authority that felt increasingly flimsy.
The three girls fell into a companionable quiet for a few minutes, gently cleaning off and sorting the charcoal samples from the upper stratum into labeled bags. Then Emma cleared her throat, a small, mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Gran... what do you think of Martin?"
"What?" Isabel's head shot around so fast her neck clicked. She stared at her granddaughter, completely perplexed by the sudden pivot, and then noticed three pairs of pretty, angelic, utterly innocent eyes fixed directly on her face. A cold prickle of awareness needled her thoughts. "Those little angelic looks aren't going to work on me."
"What do you mean?" the three of them asked in perfect unison, their expressions widening with matching, feigned confusion.
Isabel stood up, dusting the loose dirt from her jeans as she eyed the trio suspiciously. She looked at Emma, and a profound wave of warmth softened the irritation behind her ribs. She hadn't seen her granddaughter this relaxed, happy, and carefree since the day her parents had died. Emma was truly shining in the company of equally intelligent girls her own age. Isabel haddiscovered over the last week that Sophia and Lily operated on the exact same intellectual level as Emma, allowing them to form a tight, unyielding bond. They were always together, moving through the hotel like a single, unified force. It was wonderful to see.
"Those little innocent faces may work on a father, an uncle, a grandparent, or any unsuspecting male, I guess," Isabel snorted. "But they don't work on me." She folded her arms across her chest, standing her ground firmly. "I was a teenage girl once. I know every single trick in the book."
"What tricks, Gran?" Emma's feigned innocence rose to an entirely new level. Her voice turned sweet and too high, a change that made Isabel laugh despite herself. "All we want is for you to be happy."
