Beau grins like he’s enjoying her as much as he’s enjoying the Doritos. He lifts the bag, tips his chin up, and provides us with a perfect profile view of each Dorito cascading into his open mouth.
The angle of his jaw pulls my gaze, which follows the line up to his chin, then down his tanned neck, a body part I hadn’t realized could be attractive until this exact second.
Suddenly, I feel famished, but I’m not sure whether I’m hungry for the chips or the man eating them.
Wait, WHAT?
I snap my mouth shut and look at Grams, who appears similarly entranced, the Doritos bag reflecting in her eyes.
Tristan watches both of us with slight amusement.
I clear my throat loudly, and Beau’s gaze flicks to me, then Grams. He lowers the bag. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He holds it toward us. “Did you want some?”
Yes, my animal brain says in a husky voice. “No,” I say firmly. Realizing this is a harsh response for a somewhat kind offer, I add, “But thank you.”
Tristan turns to Beau. “Can you take Mrs. Sawyer for some food while I talk with Gemma?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Beau says.
“I don’t want to eat.” Grams’s refusals are getting weaker each time.
Beau’s brows go up. “Are we doing the hospital option, then?”
Grams glares at him, then pushes herself up.
“Good choice.” Beau offers her his arm like they’re heading to prom. He sends me a little wink, then closes the door.
And then it’s just Tristan and me.
Tristan runsa hand through his blond hair and takes a seat at the desk, clasping his hands and meeting my gaze frankly. “You expressed concern yesterday about how your grandmother would be treated here, and I reassured you. But the truth is, Gemma, that we took a chance accepting her. I know this island means a lot to her, which was a big factor in our agreeing to it. We want her to be able to remain on the island she loves, and to do it on her terms as she ages. But to have such a serious situation happen so soon after her arrival…” He grimaces.
“What are you getting at?”
He breaks his hands apart and puts them out, palms up. “We simply don’t have the resources to be keeping the type of close eye on our residents that I’m concerned your grandma will require. We exist to provide support to seniors to allow them the most independence possible given their stage of life; we aren’t here to, for lack of a better word, babysit, or to deal with behavioral issues.”
“So, you’re kicking her out?”
He sighs and sits back in his swivel chair. “Not yet. I need to consult with my dad about what legal action Mr. Crane’s family could potentially take against us. We have a scheduled meeting tomorrow.”
Great. There’s no way that meeting ends with Grams still living here. Mark Palmer has always buttedheads with her.
“So, he still runs things here?” I ask.
“No, but he’s involved, of course, and takes a deep interest. Kind of hard for him not to when he lives so close. Anyway, I wanted to let you know the situation. I understand you’re trying to ready the house for sale.”
“And you think I should hold off,” I say, watching him closely.
“I don’t know. But I’ll have a firm answer for you tomorrow, okay? Just…see if you can talk to her. It’ll be tough to argue for keeping her here if she doesn’t show any remorse for what happened—and if she intends to continue trying to change company policy.”
“I understand,” I say tersely. It goes against everything in me to say those words to a Palmer.
That’s the most annoying part. He’s been perfectly nice this whole time. And just as reasonable. It would have been great if he’d been rude and dismissive—or if he was discriminating against Grams in a way that meant I could sue the Palmer empire for all they’re worth.
Instead, I walk out of his office worrying Grams’s hours at Seaside Oasis are numbered—and I grudgingly understand why.
I find Grams in the cafeteria again, sitting in front of a plate of loaded nachos. It’s half eaten, but she’s holding her stomach like she already had too much.
“Can’t get seconds without finishing firsts, Virginia.” Beau’s gaze meets mine. “After her first bite, she assured me she’d want a second plate. But that’s the trouble with starving yourself. It shrinks your stomach. Don’t worry,” he says as he gets up from his chair. “You’ll work back up to it.”
