First thing in the morning,I ask Eugene to see if he can find out anything more about the property boundary using whatever tools he has access to as a real estate agent. My inner control freak isn’t loving that I have to leave things in his hands, but it is what it is.
Once I’m satisfied my last few items will be quick to pack, I take the rickety golf cart for a last spin to see Grams. It takes a while to get to the closest decent airport, and I don’t want to take any chances that the cart breaks down on the side of the road on my way home.
Grams is doing water aerobics when I arrive, and I sit on the side, watching with a smile as she mutters under her breath about whatever the instructor tells the class to do. I’m going to miss that woman something fierce.
The way she has to limp to her walker makes me cringe, though. She really should be going to a doctor. I bet I could convince her to if I had enough time to wear her down. I’ll just have to try over the phone.
Once she’s showered and changed, we head to the cafeteria with Deedee and Lu Blakely. I’m grateful to be leaving her with good friends, at least, though part of me wishes they weren’t quite so susceptible to her ideas for tomfoolery.
“Any takers on the house?” Grams asks once we’re all seated.
“We’ve got a guy who’s pretty interested,” I say. “He came to see it yesterday.”
“Nice young family?”
I clear my throat. “Um, no. But he owns the property next door.”
“Mark Palmer?!”
Heads everywhere turn toward us at her exclamation.
“No, Grams,” I say under my breath. “Theothernext door.”
Her face screws up. “The investor?”
I nod, preparing myself for a tirade—and that’s without her knowing all the plans Mr. Wallace has for the place.
She growls a bit. “I wishyou’djust stay there, Gigi.”
“Grams…”
“I know, I know,” she says, cutting me off. “Weallknow how you feel about the island.”
I blink. HowIfeel about the island? She feels similarly to me except that, for some reason, she wants to live here despite it. “It’s not just that. You need this sale.”
Her frown deepens, and she grunts affirmatively. “That Palmer pawn was just asking me about my payment for the month. I’m late, apparently.”
I assume Sandra Barry is the person she’s referring to.
I lean closer to her. “Are you falling behind on payments?”
“Not yet. But that sale will be welcome when it comes through, even if itisan investor.”
Assuming Eugene can make it happen.
I sit closer to Grams than usual as we eat, and, in a gesture that brings tears to my eyes, she keeps one hand on my leg. I’m starting to feel terrible about leaving her, and when we get up and she falters because of her knee, it feels like a sucker punch.
“I’m fine,” she says, reaching for the walker. “I can drive you to the ferry, Gig?—
“No!” I laugh nervously to cover my outburst. Grams hasn’t driven in two weeks, and today is not the day to break that trend. “There’s no need. I’ve got a ride lined up, and you’ve got plenty going on here.”
“Hmph,” she says. “So, you’re telling me I have to say goodbye now?”
I nod, my throat getting thick and my eyes watery. When will I see her next? I feel like the world’s biggest jerk leaving her alone on this island again. The last Sawyer standing.
“Well, come on,” she says impatiently. “Give your old woman’s old woman a hug.”
I don’t hesitate, partially because I don’t want Grams to see me crying. But I hear a distinct sniffle from her too as we hug.
