herself, but he wanted to get Bree’s take on it. “It’s supposed to get warm again tomorrow. You weren’t planning to garden or anything were you, Mother?”
“I’ll stay inside like a good girl,” she said.
“I think that’s a good idea.”
He held the door open, hinting for her to go in. She rolled her eyes at him—much the way he suspected he’d done at her when he was a boy. But she went inside.
Out in the driveway, he rested an arm on the hood of his pickup and met Bree’s eyes. “Do you think she’s doing okay?”
“She seems good to me. Maybe a little crabby.” She grinned. “But not confused. She’s still sharper than I am on a good day. Is that what you meant?”
He heard the uncertainty in Bree’s voice. He and Audrey had spoken at length about their fears that CeeCee was declining—mentally as well as physically, but they hadn’t talked to the family about it. And it was probably time they did. “She does seem fine today. But have you noticed her . . . failing? Audrey and I have noticed she’s more forgetful, repeats herself. I don’t know . . .”
“Isn’t that to be expected at her age?”
“Probably. She’s just not quite . . . herself. It’s not always easy to know when to intervene. You’ve been part of this family long enough to know that Cecelia Whitman will not take kindly to any effort to meddle in her private affairs.”
Bree laughed. “I guess I’ve always kind of admired her for that.”
“Me too. Until it’s time to make some changes. That will be hard.”
Bree tilted her head and gave him a look he couldn’t quite interpret.
She and CeeCee had always been close, even before, when Bree and Tim first started dating. “Everything okay?” he asked.
She blinked, as if she was coming out of a trance. Or, if he didn’t know better, as if she found it hard to meet his gaze.
“Bree? You okay, honey?”
“Oh. Yes, I’m . . . I’m fine.” She glanced at her phone. “Oh, wow. It’s late. I’d better get back to work.”
“Me too.” He was tempted to press, to make sure she was all right. But something stopped him. “Well, you drive safe, kiddo. Have a good weekend. You have any big plans?”
“Plans? No. Just hanging out.” She climbed in the car, seeming eager to get away. “Tell Audrey hi. And you guys have a good weekend too.”
Bree cranked the engine and waved as she pulled away.
Grant watched her car until she turned at the corner. Then he opened his truck door and climbed inside. What was going on with that girl? Something was up, he felt certain. He’d felt it. Even in the few seconds they’d been out here talking.
He wasn’t sure why, but a pall of melancholy came over him. There was always a quiet chord of sadness where Bree was concerned. She was their reminder of Tim. She was a balm, and at the same time she was a reminder. Not as if they wouldn’t have remembered without Bree to nudge their memories.
How often he relived that awful day the black car had pulled into the driveway on Chicory Lane. He’d seen it roll slowly up the lane from his workshop, and though it had taken every bit of strength he could muster, he’d hurried to get to the door before they knocked, his world spiraling. Bree had been living with them while Tim was deployed, but she was out with friends that day—a blessing. But he had to get to the house before Audrey could answer the door. To protect her from the initial blow—even if he couldn’t shield her from the one coming.
But apparently Audrey had seen them drive in too. For when he came in the back way, she was already standing like a statue inside the front door. Her hand outstretched, trembling. They’d answered the door together. And she’d been so strong.
But he’d suspected that day was one of the reasons Audrey had been so desperate—even if it was only subconscious—to remodel the inn. To demolish the memories, get rid of the very door the officers had knocked on. To remove any image that played a part in her memories of that day.
But of course Bree herself had been a part of those painful memories. Grant wasn’t sure if Audrey realized that if not for the fact Bree had been staying with them, those Marines would have knocked on a different door that day.
A few months after Tim’s death, Bree had used the inn’s construction as an excuse to move away, get her own place. It had been a good thing for all of them, he knew. But he hated the distance he’d felt from her today. Not a physical distance, but a distance of the heart.
He edged the truck onto CeeCee’s street, but not toward Cape Girardeau as he’d intended. Instead he turned back toward home. The garage door repairs could wait. Right now, he just wanted to be with Audrey.
Chapter 4
4
Did Grant know too? Bree checked her rearview mirror, half expecting to see him following her. But the road behind her was empty.
She’d been suspicious at Audrey’s reference to a “hot date”—even if she had been talking about CeeCee. But now, Grant’s comment about it being “time to make some changes” made her feel certain Tim’s parents knew she was going out with Aaron this weekend.
If Grant had been testing, she’d failed. But how could they know? She hadn’t told anyone. Not even her own parents. Not that there was anything to tell. Or that her parents would ever bother asking.
So why didn’t she tell? What kept her from simply telling Grant she was going to a movie with a friend from work? A guy. A hot guy.
And there it was. That was why. Because no matter how many times she told herself it wasn’t a date, she knew it really was. In Aaron’s eyes for sure. But in her own, too.
But why was that a bad thing? Everyone else got to move on with their lives. Getting married, having babies, buying houses. They couldn’t expect her not to do the same.
She braked needlessly, as if she could curb the thoughts by slowing the car.
Stop it, Whitman. Nobody is trying to stop you from moving on. You’re guilting yourself. And she knew it had more to do with Tim than any true guilt about “moving on.” She still loved her husband. Was that so wrong? And Tim’s family had become hers. Maybe even more than when he was alive. They’d been through so much together. She didn’t want to move on from them. And yet, that was inevitable, wasn’t it?
She wanted to be married again someday. She wanted a family. Babies. The good Lord knew that being around Tim’s precious nieces and nephews made her long for the day she would hold her own baby in her arms. Yet such thoughts were so very complicated.
Aaron had been flirting with her for months now. At first she’d been too dumb to recognize it, but even Wendy in reception agreed: he was definitely flirting. Bree had to admit she found Aaron attractive. But whenever she tried to wrap her mind around the idea of dating again, Tim’s sweet face would be there. And she’d feel like she’d cheated on him with her very thoughts.
She wondered what
