ruffled apron over her beige capris and pale blue T-shirt.
Anyone who mistook her grandmother’s small stature as a sign of fragility would quickly change their minds when they witnessed her sharp wit disguised behind a sweet smile on her round, slightly lined face.
“This isn’t the real me, Gran,” Lindsay said with a glance down at the pink pajama bottoms decorated with shoes and a matching T-shirt that read If the Shoe Fits, Buy It! “Not anymore.”
“Of course it is, dear. You’re hiding the real you behind those fancy clothes of yours, same way you used to hide behind all those books back in high school.”
Lindsay’s jaw dropped a little even as she stepped up to the worn Formica counter and reached for the loaf of bread. “That’s not— Those fancy clothes as you call them are the real me. I’m a professional now. I have an image to maintain. It’s an important part of my job.”
A job that was still hers—at least for now. With the PR firm going through a buyout by their main competitor, she’d heard plenty of rumors that no one was safe.
“An image,” her grandmother murmured beneath her breath as she expertly cracked eggs into the mixing bowl. “You are more than an image.”
“I’m not saying that’s all I am. Only that—”
“It’s all you allow people to see,” Ellie interrupted before flipping on the mixer to punctuate her statement and have the last word.
Lindsay shook her head at her grandmother’s undeniable hardheadedness. Had she really thought this would be easy? she asked herself as she bent toward the lower cabinets for a skillet. She pulled at the cupboard door once, then again and almost lost her balance and tumbled backward when it finally gave way.
“Careful, dear,” Ellie called out over the high-pitched whirl of the mixer. “That door sticks.”
“So I noticed,” Lindsay muttered but not so loudly that her grandmother could hear. She’d also noticed the uneven brick path out front, the sagging porch steps, the crooked outlets, the cracking grout on the bathroom floors. She shuddered slightly to think of all she couldn’t see. What about the wiring, the plumbing, the actual structure holding up the charming but aging Victorian?
With such an old house, maintenance was a full-time job—one her grandfather had gladly taken on after retiring from the local post office. But while Robert Brookes had been a wonderful man, loving husband, doting father and grandfather, a handyman he was not. As his various attempts proved to Lindsay’s untrained eye.
Her parents had warned her that the house would need serious work before they could put it on the market, and she had to tread carefully—both about the quality of the work Ellie’s late husband had done and about selling the house Ellie loved.
Her grandmother was far too smart not to have figured out the reason behind Lindsay’s visit, once the phone calls from Lindsay and her parents failed to do the trick. So far, Ellie had changed the subject anytime Lindsay so much as discussed all the benefits of moving to Phoenix. Even the best, most convincing argument Lindsay could think of—“you’ll get to see more of me and Robbie”—had been met with Ellie’s patented smile.
“Something I could do right here if you and my great-grandson would move back home.”
Stubborn, Lindsay thought with a sigh. But so was she.
“Just needs a bit of elbow grease,” Ellie said, and for a split second, Lindsay thought her grandmother was talking about what might be needed to get her to move from the home she loved.
Still, Lindsay grabbed at the opening while she could. “You’re right, Gran. A little bit of elbow grease and some TLC. I know it’s been hard for you to keep up with everything since Granddad died,” she added gently.
Ellie sighed as she shut off the mixer. “Your grandfather loved puttering around the place. He was always happier when he had a project to work on.”
“Like you’re always happier when you have someone to cook for,” Lindsay said as she reached out to set the skillet on the stove and steal a handful of blueberries on the way back.
“Those are for the pancakes,” Ellie scolded as Lindsay knew she would. “And you’re right. Upkeep on this place was your grandfather’s love, not mine.”
Lindsay carefully swallowed the juicy bite-size fruit, almost afraid of ruining the moment. Was her grandmother starting to see things her way? “It’s a big house, Gran. A lot of work for one person.”
Ellie nodded as she wiped her hands on her apron. “That’s why I’ve made a decision.”
Pinpricks of tears stung Lindsay’s eyes. How hard it must be for her grandmother to realize she couldn’t stay in her own house. The place where she’d lived with her husband and young children. The place where she’d raised her family, grown old and said goodbye to the man she loved after over fifty years of marriage.
A pang hit her chest as Lindsay admitted she, too, would miss the old house where she’d spent some of the best parts of her childhood. She loved her parents, of course, but going to Grandma and Grandpa’s had always been such a treat.
But a house was just a house, and once Ellie moved to Phoenix, their family would see each other far more often. “It’s the right thing to do, Gran.”
“Oh, I know. It’s time,” Ellie said, her voice cheerier than Lindsay might have expected. But then again, once Ellie made up her mind, there was no going back.
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted before Lindsay could get too emotional, and she quickly blinked back tears as her grandmother turned toward the sound. “Can you watch these pancakes while I get that?” Ellie asked, already stripping off her apron and passing the spatula to Lindsay.
She could hear the low sound of voices—her gran’s familiar sweet tones and a lower, undeniably masculine murmur—as she watched the pancakes, waiting for the bubbles to rise to the top.
She’d flipped the first, somewhat successfully, when the voices grew louder. Her grandmother wasn’t— Oh, yes, she was. Ellie was leading whoever was at the door straight to the kitchen.
Lindsay didn’t need to look around to know there was no escape. She was still in her pajamas, for goodness’ sake! She didn’t even want to think about her hair or her glasses.
Panic started to build despite the deep breaths she took. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. This isn’t me anymore!
Bookworm Brookes—the geekiest girl at Clearville High.
But it was too late to do anything but grin and fake it. To put the best spin possible on the situation. A situation that grew so much worse as her grandmother stepped into the kitchen with a smile...and Ryder Kincaid following on her heels.
A nightmare, Lindsay thought. It had to be. Like the ones where you were naked in front of a crowd. But instead of naked, she was in her cartoon pajamas and thick-framed glasses. Which, as she met Ryder’s amused grin, was almost worse.
“Lindsay, dear, you remember Ryder Kincaid, don’t you?” Ellie asked as she slid the spatula from Lindsay’s nerveless fingers and took over at the stove.
“I,
