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Gran shared three stories, interrupted once by a nurse who came in to administer medicine.
I peek through the lace curtains. “Gran, are you able to take your wheelchair to the gardens?” Her walker sits close to her cushioned chair. How well does she get around these days? “Do you need any help?”
“No thanks, Lauren. I can do it all myself, thank you very much.” The lady has spunk.
I smile. “Okay, Mrs-I-Can-Do-It-All-Myself.”
Gran reaches for the walker and pulls it toward herself. “That’s what I like about you, Lauren. You’re feisty like me. The Brooker men need a bit of spice in their life. They work too hard otherwise.” She pushes up into a standing position and leans into the frame. Then she shuffles forward and lowers herself into the wheelchair.
Is that why Gran likes me so much? She thinks I’m good for Mason. Should I push her wheelchair? Gran still seems independent, which is a relief. How sick is she, anyway? Elderly people like to gab about their ailments. But I don’t want to ruin the mood.
I stand and rock back in my sneakers. “Should I push?”
“No, thanks. Being here makes it easy for me to call the nurses and get them to do everything. But that’s not how we Brookers operate.” Gran gives a nebulous grin.
I follow her down the hallway into a beautiful sunny courtyard. There’s a massive walnut tree in the center. Under its shade, birds squabble over fallen nuts.
“The second-best thing about this place, Mason visits more.” She peers up at me and winks. “He probably feels sorry for me, but it works to my advantage.” She leans her head back and closes her eyes. The afternoon sun makes her pale skin glow.
I sit on a wooden bench nearby. “How often do you see him?”
“Three times a week. At least. What I don’t get is . . .” She cracks an eye open and studies me. “What makes you so busy you can’t visit with him? I thought the Brookers were the workaholics. Mason tells me you’ve been working a lot and have a dog now.”
Is that what he’s been telling her? I’m working too much. Oh, that rascal—making me look like I’m the one who’s failing the relationship. Well, there’s no relationship anymore.
“Can I bring my dog here? Perhaps we could go for a walk around town.”
Gran’s eyes light up, but her eyelids droop. “That would be nice.”
An image pops into my mind. Gran’s holding the leash. Cinda takes off in a gallop with Gran skiing down Main Street. I resist a snort at my silly imagination.
Gran’s eyes drift to a close again. “Make sure you bring Mason with you.”
My shoulders slump. I’m happy to visit Gran. She’s a special lady and the only grandmother figure I’ve got. But spending time with Mason would be difficult. I can’t believe he’s coming to Georgetown three times a week. How does he manage it with his busy schedule, and how long will it last? He did visit me a lot at first. Maybe he became too familiar and allowed his work to take over. No point dwelling on the past. I need to move forward and not look back.
2
MASON
A text message pings on my iPhone, and I stop midsentence during a conversation with my dad. My gasp fills the quiet boardroom. Lauren hasn’t messaged me for ten months, and seeing her name on my screen gives me an instant adrenaline boost.
“What is it, son?” Dad’s gravelly voice startles me.
My throat constricts, and I swallow to speak. “Gran. It’s Gran’s . . . friend.”
Dad launches out of his chair. The blue sky from the windows silhouettes his tall frame. “Is everything okay?”
I wave him to sit down. “She’s good. Sorry. I’m just surprised she’s messaging me.” I click on the text and read.
Lauren: I offered to walk my dog with Gran, and she expects you to be there. Can you fit it into your schedule? I’m free after 4 p.m. this week. Name a date and time.
Date? I nearly drop my phone. She means, “what day?” Idiot.
I peek at Dad’s concerned face. “Can I leave the office a little early this afternoon? Take Gran for a walk around the block?”
“Sure. But put the Chester report on my desk before you leave.” Dad rubs his bloodshot eyes. He pulled an all-nighter in the office. Two power naps at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m were all he needed to face today. “That reminds me. I have a meeting with Morrison in a few. I need to do some last-minute preparations.” Dad nods and exits the boardroom.
My heart sinks. The Chester report will take another four hours. Four hours I don’t have. But I can’t let Lauren down, and the idea of playing family with her, leading her dog, and holding her hand—it’s too good to pass up.
