him the large map of the grounds on the wall across from Lila’s desk. Take him out to the garage that housed the lawn equipment and fertilizer they already owned—collected through donations. Then give him a brief tour of the private beach and the bungalows because he couldn’t explore those unescorted—and finally get back to real life.
Lunch with Kara, whom she hadn’t seen since Maddie had brought the little girl to her office on the way to the preschool housed on the property. This was the private preschool for residents at the Stand, not the preschool run by current and former residents that was attended by neighboring children and—like the other businesses—helped support the Stand.
She’d get through these next moments and then get her mind back on the things that mattered most.
* * *
“YOU AND DARIN have the biggest part of the battle won,” Lynn Duncan said as she guided him through a maze of hallways that were wide enough to be rooms. “He’s willing to work hard.”
“Darin’s always been willing to go the extra mile.”
“But his attitude is good,” she said, turning another corner closely enough that he bumped into her.
And moved away immediately.
“After what you said about his depression, I expected him to be at least minimally resistant. In my experience, patients with a brain injury like his, one that allows moments of complete lucidity, tend to battle with frustration, resentment and even bitterness as they experience awareness of their loss again and again.”
She didn’t seem bothered by his accidental touch. Grant filed the knowledge away. Yet she’d shied away earlier, when he leaned in too close. He’d never dealt firsthand with a battered woman before, and while he’d assured the gorgeous nurse that he and Darin would behave with impeccable decorum, while his brother’s future depended on them doing so, he’d just realized that he had no idea what that decorum required.
“Darin has his moments, but overall he handles his situation with the dignity and class that I’ve always associated with him,” he said, keeping his voice level down, his tone easy.
One hall led to another and they entered a large, upscale lobby complete with a shiny black baby grand piano set on a dais that dominated about a quarter of the room.
“It’s great when situations like these bring out the best in people. It could just as easily have brought out the worst.” Lynn sounded like a doctor on rounds with med students. Or at least what Grant imagined one would sound like.
“I can’t honestly tell you what Darin’s worst is. Except maybe taking too much on himself. Which, I’m told, brings on the depression. He can’t stand being a burden to me. Or anyone.”
The look she gave him was a bit unsettling, as though she was reading more into his words than he’d put there.
“So you take him to work with you so he feels like he’s contributing,” she said. “That can’t be easy, trying to run a business and watching out for Darin at the same time.”
He didn’t like the way her statement made him feel. As if he had a problem. “Darin’s a big help.” He set her straight on that one. “Even in his childlike moments he can perform the simple tasks accurately.”
As he spoke, his voice rose a bit, and Grant noticed the women milling in the areas around them. Some stared. A couple bowed their heads. One faded away down a hall, giving real meaning to the phrase “fading into the woodwork.”
“I’m sorry,” he said more softly. “Was I too loud?”
“You’re fine.” Her smile made him uncomfortable again. In an entirely different fashion. Grant didn’t have a lot of opportunity for sex in his life, or women in general. But he liked them.
And he liked this particular woman a lot.
“You’re with me,” she said, as though that explained everything.
Maybe it did. These women trusted her.
“That’s why we’re walking all these hallways, isn’t it?” he asked, eyeing her with new respect. “You’re showing them that I’m trustworthy.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean they won’t be afraid.”
He nodded. And frowned, too, feeling as if he should be able to do something to help.
He was there to do landscaping. Nothing more.
“I’ll keep my distance,” he assured his companion as they entered yet another hallway, this one a bit narrower but still oversized, with closed doors lining both sides.
Lynn stopped before one and knocked. “It’s okay to talk to anyone here,” she told him. “As long as they speak with you first. Our residents need to feel safe, but they also need to be able to interact with men. The world they’ll be going back to is full of them.”
She smiled and, when her knock wasn’t answered, opened the door.
“You know we did background checks on you and your brother this week,” she was saying, reminding him of the permission he’d granted several days before when he’d stopped in to finalize details and paperwork for the day’s appointments. “And Dr. Zimmer vouched for you, as well. You wouldn’t be here if the staff had concerns about our residents being exposed to either one of you. We have four full-time security guards, all women, and three part-timers, two of whom are men. So there’s someone here twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. The bungalows all have panic buttons in them and everyone has Security on their speed dial.”
Made sense.
They were in an office—of sorts. There was a desk in one section, but it didn’t dominate the room.
“This is Lila’s office,” Lynn said, brushing a strand of hair back over her shoulder in a movement that was completely feminine—and drew his attention to her...womanliness.
The rest of the place looked like a formal living room in a wonderfully kept, warm and inviting home, with off-white couches, maroon pillows, a vase of roses on the glass coffee table and mirrors with gilded accents on the walls.
Grant was wearing leather work boots and the jeans he’d had on when he’d dug holes at six that morning to mark where a brick fence would be going.
If she was planning to ask him to have a seat, he’d have to come up with a tactful way to decline.
She turned to face the wall, holding the door they’d come through. “This map shows you The Lemonade Stand premises in its entirety,” she said, walking up to a framed three-dimensional aerial photograph that was taller than he was and almost the width of the office.
Grant studied the scaled-to-size model of a complex that was twice as massive as he’d imagined.
And exquisitely laid out.
At one time, he’d had dreams of designing properties just like this one, and he was kind of jazzed at the thought of working on one again. Getting his hands dirty.
And maybe updating and making improvements, too, if...
He
