A Home by the Sea (12 page)

Noah nodded. “I know the type. That makes us both very lucky.”

“I want the kind of love my grandparents had, Noah. I've seen the mistakes and how badly life can go wrong. I don't want that,” Grace said slowly.

“It's a journey, honey. Thing can go wrong. People can be weak and make mistakes. You just move ahead.”

A timer chimed in the kitchen. “That's the brownies.” Grace ran a hand through her hair and then pointed to a chilled bottle. “No more sad family history. Let's have some champagne.”'

When Noah saw the label, he whistled.

“You're worth it. Whatever happens, this has been amazing.”

He pulled her into his arms. “It's not nearly over yet, Grace.” His mouth skimmed her ear, her cheek. Against all her intentions Grace felt her heart turn over. Would it be so dangerous to trust him, to follow her heart down this crazy, wonderful path?

Boots echoed outside in the hallway. The doorbell chimed. Frowning, Grace peeked out the security hole. “Yes?”

“FS Express. I've got a delivery for Grace Lindstrom.”

“From whom?”

“Paragon Productions. I need a signature.”

The man carried in three boxes, waiting while Grace signed for each one. When she was done, he sniffed the air. “Man, those brownies smell good. Too bad I'm on a diet.”

When he was gone, Grace opened the boxes, which were filled with files, old documents and photographs. The letter from her new editor noted possible directions for the first part of the book, as well as questions about each section. All sensible and helpful.

Except that Grace was supposed to go through three boxes of material in twenty-four hours. She sat down slowly and blew out a breath, the letter in her lap.

“Not good?”

“Not good. They want me to dig through all of
this in twenty-four hours. How can I do that?” She looked at Noah, feeling her joy fade. “I wanted this night to be special.”

“Hey, you still have to eat. We can do that. Then you can attack these boxes. We'll see how the rest works out.”

“I don't think—”

The doorbell chimed again. Grace shook her head. “Please not another box,” she muttered.

But a different man stood outside. Grace recognized the manager of her building.

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Lindstrom.” The man looked worried. “I just got a call from someone named Carolina Grayson. She says she's been trying to reach your cell phone all day.”

“It's broken. I have to—” Grace stopped. “What's wrong? Why did she call? It's not Gage or my grandfather, is it?”

He held out a sheet of paper. “She said to give you this number and tell you to call her as soon as possible. That's all I know.”

Grace felt Noah behind her, his strong grip on her shoulder. “There's a calling code for long distance somewhere.” Grace tried to think, her mind racing. “I have to call my friend Caro. I need the calling code. It's here somewhere.”

“Use my cell.” Noah pressed his phone into her hand. “Don't waste time looking.”

Grace's hands shook so much she almost dropped the phone. She tried to dial, then felt Noah ease the
phone from her fingers. “Give me the number. I'll do this while you drink some of that champagne and try to relax.”

Grace took the phone, waiting impatiently, relieved when she heard her friend's voice. “Caro, it's Grace. I just got your message. Sorry, but my cell phone is broken. What's happened?”

“Thank heaven I found you, Grace. They finally located this number at your grandfather's office. I didn't want to bother you, but Gage is with him now.”

“With my grandfather? I don't understand.” Grace felt dizzy. “Why? What's wrong?”

“He's been hurt, Grace. He and Gage are on the way to the hospital. I'm leaving in a few minutes, but I had to find you first. I—I think you need to come home right away. Your grandfather is—he's in bad shape.”

G
RACE'S TRIP TO
O
REGON
was a nightmare, blurred by worry and exhaustion. Because of her last-minute arrangements she had to change planes twice. By the time she reached the Portland airport, she was dead on her feet.

She had left a message for Noah, then left a message at her new job, explaining that she would be gone for at least five days because of a family emergency. Until she got a new cell, she was forced to use a pay-as-you go phone as her contact number, along with her grandfather's home number. From what she had learned from her friend Caro, Grace knew she would be spending most of her time at the hospital.

The medical report had left her chilled.
Broken ribs. Possible punctured lung. Lacerations on the left hand and leg and trauma to the head.

No one knew what had happened. Her grandfather frequently worked late at the animal shelter, doing whatever tasks needed to be tackled. Given their lack of staff, it wasn't surprising that he had been alone the night before. Caro said it looked as if a heavy supply bookshelf had overturned, knocking
him down and pinning him to the floor. When one of his volunteers showed up at ten the next morning, the elderly vet was delirious from cold, trauma and blood loss. At the hospital one resident speculated that he might have had a stroke and knocked the shelf over as he fell.

They were currently doing a battery of tests, and only the thought that Caro and her husband were at the hospital kept Grace calm during the last leg of her journey. She couldn't bear to imagine her grandfather waking up alone, in pain and confused.

As she drove her rental car from the airport though midnight streets, Grace felt guilt wash over her. Staring into the darkness, she prayed for her grandfather. He was all that mattered now.

 

G
RACE WAS FIGHTING
exhaustion when she finally reached the hospital. Stiff and disoriented, she was searching for the intensive care unit when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Deep mahogany eyes probed her face. “You look like you're going to crash any second, Grace. Sit down while I get you something to drink.”

Lt. Gage Grayson was as handsome as ever. Grace had seen him twice since he had married her best friend. He looked thinner since the last time she had visited, and there were deeper lines on his sunburned forehead. Grace felt awful that he had spent his precious leave time here at the hospital instead of at home with Caro.

“Thank you for being here, Gage. I was so worried. Am so worried,” she finished. She sat down, then stood up almost immediately, pacing the narrow hall. “Where is he?”

“Just down there. He's asleep now.” Gage bought her a bottle of cold juice and sat down beside her. “Better?”

She managed to nod even though it wasn't better and it wouldn't be remotely better until she knew every detail of her grandfather's condition. “How is he, Gage?”

“He's come around twice, but only for a few minutes. No visitors allowed until morning. The doctor came by at eight and said he'd be back early tomorrow. We'll get more information then. There isn't a lot you can do here tonight, Grace. Caro and I have a room in the motel across the street. Why don't you go over and get some rest? I'll be here if he wakes up.”

“That's—” Grace swallowed a lump in her throat. “That's so generous of you.” Her eyes burned with sudden tears. “You go. I want to stay here tonight.” She squeezed Gage's hand. “And thank you again for all that you and Caro have done. I hate taking up your precious time together while you're on leave.”

“Forget about that. I owe your grandfather more than I can ever repay. He took in my pets when I had nowhere to turn. He's a good man.” He crossed his arms, frowning. “You should rest. You'll be no good to him if you're run-down and exhausted.”

“I can't leave,” she said hoarsely. “I need to be close in case…” She didn't finish. She couldn't bear to say the words aloud.

“There won't be any ‘in case.' Your grandfather is going to be fine,” Gage said gruffly. “He's got more strength and willpower than any man I know.”

“He can definitely be stubborn. I'm very glad for that now. But I still don't understand what happened. Was it a stroke?”

“Hard to say until the test results are back. We'll know soon.”

She nodded, trying to relax, but her mind kept whirling from possibility to possibility. “What about the animal shelter?”

“We've got volunteers lined up. Everyone in town wants to pitch in. You don't need to worry about that.”

“That's the first thing my grandfather will ask me. You know how devoted he is to his animals.”

Gage smiled. “Yeah, I got that message loud and clear. And I know it weighs on him. But he didn't want you to worry about any of this.” Gage shook his head. “In fact, he made us promise not to call you. He didn't want you upset.”

“Upset?” Grace shot to her feet, pacing again. “That's just crazy. Of course I had to know.”

“That's what we thought. Caro called as soon as she could. But Caro says he was too proud to admit he needed help. In the last months the shelter has
been understaffed and work has been piling up. It might have become more than he could handle.”

“He should have told me,” Grace said. “I would have come home to help. All he had to do was tell me.” More waves of guilt hit. If she had come home sooner none of this would have happened.

Her fault.

She sank into a lumpy chair next to Gage, staring down the hall. “I should have been here to check on things. I should have seen what was going on.”

“Hey.” Gage gripped her shoulder. “Don't start guilting about this. He's a tough old bird, and the last thing he would have wanted was you hovering around, fussing over him. You were right where he wanted you, off in D.C. carrying on with your life and making a success. Do you know how often he bragged about you to Caro and the staff at the shelter?”

Grace closed her eyes. “I should have called him more often. I should have heard how tired he was when he called me.”

“No one here saw anything. I doubt that you could have, either. But what's done is done. No point making yourself sick over what you can't change.” Gage looked up as footsteps rapped down the hall.

A tall woman sprinted toward them, her dark hair flying and her purse swinging from side to side. She wore plain black clogs and a long gray sweater over leggings that hugged her slender curves. Her deep blue eyes widened when she saw Grace.

“You made it. I'm so glad Caro tracked you down.”

“Jilly.” Grace whispered her friend's name and then reached out for the physical comfort that came from someone who felt like family, someone who knew your oldest secrets and deepest fears. They had been friends since the age of twelve, when Jilly had first moved to Summer Island with her foster family. Like Grace, Jilly had worked hard to find stability in her life. She had followed her dreams. Now she was an up-and-coming chef in Arizona.

“Honey, you need to eat something. You look terrible.” Jilly shot a look at Gage. “Is anything open? Maybe a sandwich, do you think?”

He gave a little two-finger salute. “I'll go reconnoiter.”

Grace closed her eyes, leaning on Jilly's shoulder. “He's been so good to do all this. But he and Caro should be at home. His leave won't last much longer, will it?”

“Don't bother to argue, because I've tried. They would rather be here helping. Just like I would. Now close your eyes and lie down here on the couch. I'm going to find you a blanket.”

“But I—”

Jilly simply ignored her, striding around the corner.

When she returned, she was carrying a big crocheted afghan and a plate with a sugar doughnut. “First you eat. Then you're going to rest. I knew you'd
refuse to leave until you saw your grandfather, but at least you're going to sleep. I'll be here. And don't argue with me on this,” Jilly said fiercely. “I can take you in a fight, Lindstrom. Just remember that.”

Grace yawned, overwhelmed with worry. But there was comfort in her friend's brisk energy. Jilly had always been the doer, filled with a thousand ideas and the energy to try all of them. Clearly, she still raced through life, taking every corner on two wheels. “Okay, but just for an hour. It feels as if I've been traveling for days.”

“Eat the doughnut. It's crappy, but it will fill you up.”

Grace forced down the sweet, sticky pastry and then drank from the water bottle Jilly produced from her big leather tote. She blinked back tears as Jilly smoothed the afghan over her. “It's so good to see you again. I've missed all of you.”

“As if I wouldn't come,” her friend snapped. “I love your grandfather. He's as cool as they get.” Jilly smiled crookedly. “You, I'm not so sure about, gadding all over Europe and never coming home to see us. And I'm still waiting for that French
macaron
recipe you promised me. Now quit talking, stretch out and close your eyes. Stat,” she said firmly. “I'll come get you if there is any news.”

Grace curled up on the long couch. “Just an hour…?.” she whispered.

And then she gave in to the dark grip of exhaustion.

 

G
AGE WALKED DOWN
the hall from the elevator carrying two tuna sandwiches and a hard-boiled egg.

“Asleep yet?”

“Finally,” Jilly whispered.

“She's as tough as her grandfather.”

“Tell me about it.”

Gage put the food down on the table next to Grace, for when she woke up. Then he followed Jilly down the hall, where their voices wouldn't wake Grace. “She can't see him until morning. Make her go rest.”

“Not happening. She's too stubborn. But I'll take over here. I've got a thermos of coffee in my bag and a new romantic suspense. I'll be fine. You need to go across the street and take care of your wife.”

Gage looked undecided. “Are you sure that—”

“I'll be fine. Get going. Caro needs you now. And you should get some sleep, too. You have to be feeling a bit of jet lag.”

Gage glanced back at Grace. “You're sure you can do this, Jilly? With the hours you've been keeping down at the café…”

“I slept this afternoon. I'm just fine. Now
go.
” She smiled, giving him a little shove toward the elevator. “And give Caro my love. Then tell her to get ready, because I've got a lot of things to discuss with the two of you tomorrow.”

Gage ran a hand across his neck. “About that thing?”

“Yeah.” Jilly smiled. “About that thing.”

 

N
OISES CAME AND NOISES WENT
.

Shoes squeaked and tapped. Carts clattered.

Grace slept through it all, caught in cold, blurred dreams of bad things she couldn't quite see. The old memories of childhood crept out, mocking and shrill. Warning her that everything could be stripped away in a second.

Beside her, Jilly stood watch, a silent and unyielding guardian.

 

B
Y TWO IN THE MORNING
the floor was quiet. Families had gone home and the late medications had been dispensed. Hall lights were dimmed outside rooms with patients caught in fitful dreams.

Down the hall from the ICU, Jilly kept her vigil near Grace. She glared at anyone talking loudly, making them move away so that Grace could sleep. As the hours ticked past, she drank her way through four cups of single-origin organic dark-roast coffee and two hundred pages of the newest release from her favorite author. Her energy level had always been off the charts, so an all-nighter was no problem. Jilly wasn't much of a knitter. Unlike her friends, she didn't pull out needles for solace. She had never gotten the hang of string and points, though she had tried hard. She would never admit it, but her friends' skill at needlework completely amazed and intimidated her.

Jilly simply wasn't the crafty type. Not that it was a loss. She would have been laughable in lace or soft,
clingy angora. She generally gave up makeup and hair products to make time for an extra fifteen minutes of sleep and an early-morning run.

She had a rangy, athletic body that usually stayed hidden beneath the crisp jacket and comfy knit tank tops that she wore as a busy chef. She didn't inspire overblown love poems or romance in the men she dated. It was more likely that they treated her like a comfortable old friend. And Jilly liked that just fine. Why complicate life by adding grand passions or sloppy emotional entanglements? Her single goal in life was to become the best chef west of New York City. With that prize achieved, she intended to bank a few million dollars with a restaurant and a branded food franchise based on organic Southwestern specialty foods. In the eight years since she had enrolled in cooking school in Arizona, Jilly had set her feet firmly on the path to that goal. She already had a gourmet salsa line sold in several high-end Scottsdale resorts, with more due soon. And with a new restaurant in the works, sleep had become a limited commodity.

But loyalty outweighed ambition. Friends would always come first.

When Caro had called her with the news about Peter Lindstrom, Jilly had cut short an important business meeting and flown home to Oregon. She was here for the duration, determined to help Grace and the tall, quiet man who had done so much for Summer Island without ever asking anything in
return. Dr. Lindstrom was a hero to Jilly—and to most of the people in the close-knit town. He had given Jilly her first pet rabbit. Then he had let her work after school as a volunteer at the animal shelter. A few months later he had appeared at her door carrying an abandoned golden retriever pup.

It was love at first sight. The two had gone everywhere, best friends and companions. Samson had eased Jilly's rough road through adolescence, when everything Jilly did seemed to be the wrong thing. She had never been part of the popular crowd, and she had never had many dates. She preferred to spend her spare time helping at the animal shelter and reading up on cooking at the Summer Island Library.