Chapter 13

Granny knocked on my door a little before 10:00 p.m. I could see her shadow illuminated against the bright porch light at the top of the stairs. Even though I was far from in the mood for company, I’d never not answer the door for her. Especially not while living in her house. I paused the movie I was watching, stretching my arms far over my head on my way to the door. My muscles still ached from all the stupid chairs I’d set up that morning. Which was dumb. How far I’d fallen if setting up chairs felt like a workout.

Granny held a casserole dish covered in tinfoil with a bag of rolls resting on top. “I come with food.”

I smiled. “You’re welcome anytime without it. But . . .” I peered toward the dish. “Since it’s here, I’ll go grab a fork.” I motioned her into the apartment as I walked toward the kitchen to get utensils—enough for both of us. If I knew Granny, she wouldn’t watch me eat alone.

“It’s just leftover lasagna,” she said. “And my homemade rolls.” She set the pan on the coffee table in the living room and sat down in a chair.

“Just lasagna and homemade rolls?” I called from the kitchen. “Granny, you have no idea how happy you’ve made me.”

“You didn’t eat tonight?”

Back in the living room, I put her fork on the coffee table, pulled the tinfoil off the top of the pan, and took a big bite. It was still warm. I moaned with pleasure as I dropped onto the sofa. No one induced food comas like Granny did. She stood and walked to the kitchen, shooting me an it’s-a-good-thing-I-love-you look as she passed by.

“Utensils but no plates,” she mumbled under her breath. “Kids these days.” I reached up while taking another heaping bite, and she dropped the plate into my hand before sitting back down.

“Thank you,” I mumbled through a mouthful of food. I reached for my water bottle sitting on a side table and took a long swig. “I didn’t eat.” I scooped a serving of lasagna onto my plate, then dished some up for her as well. “I had a decent lunch, but then this thing happened at work, and I got annoyed and came home and . . .”

“Drowned your unhappiness in Kit Kat bars?” Granny looked at the floor in between the couch and the coffee table, the detritus of my pity party covering the carpet.

I tore off a piece of roll. “Stupid, I know. Fun at the time though.”

“What’s going on at work? You care to tell me about it?”

I breathed out a sigh. “It’s not good. Simon thinks Ida should sell the inn. I guess there’s all kinds of debt she didn’t know about, so he thinks that’s her best option.”

“Jamie’s older brother Simon?”

It still made me wince to think about Simon. My words had been harsh. Too harsh. “Yeah. He’s the accountant who’s been helping sort through all this mess.”

“Right. I remember you telling me that. Why are you scared about selling? If somebody buys the inn, they’ll still need someone to throw the parties.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But what if someone buys it so they can bulldoze it and build a row of condominiums? Or a mini mall?”

“Do they even build mini malls anymore?”

I grumbled something unintelligible.

“Lane. Tell me what’s going on. You’re sad about something bigger than the inn.”

Sad wasn’t the right word. More like disappointed in myself. “I am not.”

“Mm-hmm. Sure, you aren’t.”

I wasn’t talking to her about Simon stuff, so I relied on my feelings regarding the inn. She had to buy that. It’s not like my feelings weren’t real. “I just feel derailed, you know? You know how strongly I felt about coming here. I felt pulled here, like I was supposed to be at Winding Way. For what? For this? For them to sell it out from under me three months after I start?”

“You helped Ida find an accountant who sorted out her problems for free, didn’t you? Maybe you were here for that purpose. And you’ve made some nice friends and spent some quality time with your grandmother. I don’t see the problem.”

“I’ll have a problem if I lose my job.”

“Is that really all this is about?”

“It feels like giving up. That’s hard.”

She picked up her fork and took a bite of lasagna. “Is that really all this is about?” She repeated her question.

I huffed out a breath. “Of course it is.”

She pointed her fork at me. “I don’t believe you. Did something happen with Simon?”

My eyes flew to hers. Curse the woman for knowing me so well. “What? No.”

She grunted. “You sure?”

“Fine. I said something that was really mean. But I didn’t mean it. I think he probably knows I was emotional and upset about the inn, but I’m still going to apologize. The next time I see him.”

“I see. I guess that explains all the Kit Kats.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You know he came by here the other day?”

I froze. “What? Who did?”

“Simon. I met him. Both brothers came by on the same day, actually. Isn’t that funny? They weren’t together. Jamie came first, on Wednesday morning. You’d just left for work.”

“That was the morning he left for California.”

“Later that afternoon, Simon came by. I told him you were working late, but we had a nice little visit anyway.”

I went to the kitchen and filled a water glass for Granny. Why had Simon stopped by? What had they talked about? And why hadn’t he mentioned that day that he’d been hanging out with my grandmother? I hurried back to the living room and sat a little closer this time, perpendicular to Granny’s perch on the overstuffed chair. “What did you talk about?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing, really. Gardening. Families. He came out back and helped me pull out all the dead tomato plants.” She giggled. “Wearing a shirt and tie, even. I don’t know how he’ll manage to get the dirt off his sleeves.”

I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell me? I saw him today. I could have said thank you.”

“I told him thank you well enough. He was helping me, not you. Besides, I’m telling you right now.”

I picked up my lasagna plate. “Simon is a very nice man. I’m not surprised he helped you.” A new wave of guilt washed over me—shame that I’d spoken so carelessly.

“Mm-hmm. Nice to look at too.”

I nearly choked on my lasagna. “Sounds like you have a crush, Granny. Would you like me to tell him for you?”

She held up her hands, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I’m too old for that nonsense. But are you sure you don’t have a crush?”

I lowered my fork, sliding my nearly empty plate back onto the coffee table. “Why would you even ask that question? You’ve met Jamie. You know I’m dating him.”

“I know you are, and that’s fine. But I also know I hear Simon’s name almost as frequently.”

“It’s just because he’s been helping out with the inn.”

She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m going to say one more thing.”

I stood. “It doesn’t matter what it is. You’re crazy. And you’re wrong about this.”

She shrugged. “Maybe so. But you’re going to listen anyway ’cause I’m old and I brought you food. So sit back down and hush a minute.”

I dropped back into my seat. “It’s so not fair you get to play the old card.”

She laughed. “I’ll take every advantage I can get.”

“Fine. I’m listening.”

“Two men came to see you on the same day, Lane. Two nice, kind, respectful men. But only one hung around long enough to talk to me. Only one offered to help in my garden. Why do you think that is?”

“Jamie was on his way to California. He couldn’t have stayed.”

“I’m not talking about why Jamie didn’t stay. I’m talking about why Simon did.”

Well then. Admittedly, I’d felt a little bit of spark on more than one occasion with Simon. But it had been easy to douse out any chance of it developing into anything because, Karen. And Jamie. And Jamie. And Jamie. But Granny’s observation functioned like a burst of oxygen to my teeny tiny spark, and for a brief moment, it flared. Was it possible there really was something there? That he felt the same spark I did? I forced the thought away. It was ridiculous to even entertain. “Simon has a girlfriend, Granny. Did I tell you that? Her name is Karen, and things are pretty serious. Jamie thinks they’ll be engaged soon.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Is that right?”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

“I guess that changes things, then.”

I folded my arms. “I don’t understand. What does it change?”

“Well, I was about to tell you I thought Jamie was the one who’s wrong for you and you ought to be seeing Simon instead. But a girlfriend . . . that changes my whole theory.”

“Jamie’s not wrong for me, Granny.” It felt affirming to say it out loud.

She stood and moved to the front door. “Be sure and cover that lasagna before you put it in the fridge.”

“I will. Thanks for bringing it up.”

She paused a moment longer. “Lane, if Simon has a girlfriend, you’d do best to keep your distance. I saw the way he got under your skin tonight. And I heard the way he talked about you when he was pulling up my tomato plants. If you spend too much time with him, child, especially if you’re meant to be falling in love with his brother, it’s only going to lead to trouble.”

“But it’s not like that, Granny,” I said.

“And it won’t be so long as you mind me and keep your distance. Jamie and Simon are brothers. That’s a relationship that lasts forever. You want to keep out of trouble with the one? If I were you, I’d stay far away from the other.”

Jamie: I’m taking Lane to the poetry-signing thing up in Virginia. For her birthday.

Simon: So you said. I’m glad. She’ll like it.

Jamie: I also bought her the concert tickets, just so you know. I’ll kill you if she wants me to go.

Simon: Just be in California when it happens.

Jamie: Good plan. Then she’ll have to take someone else. Dinner suggestions?

Simon: You don’t need my help with dinner.

Jamie: Yes, I do. This night really matters. We haven’t been together in a long time, and I want things to be perfect.

Simon: I’m sure they will be.

Jamie: I’m NOT sure. Come on. Help a brother out?

Jamie: Simon. Come on. Don’t leave me hanging.

Simon: She likes food, right?

Jamie: Yes. All kinds. Especially fancy kinds.

Simon: If you’re driving all the way up to Virginia Tech, research the area. Find someplace local that has a unique specialty. Pick a separate place for dessert. A local bakery or something. Be intentional. Not like you happened upon it and picked it because it was on the way. She’ll appreciate that you planned ahead and gave thought to what she might like.

Jamie: Got it.

Simon: And talk about something other than soccer.

Jamie: For real?

Simon: In fact, talk about everything BUT soccer. Books. Music. Movies. Politics. Philosophy. No sports.

Jamie: Ugh. I’ll try. But I’m not making any promises.