Eliana took a seat across from him. “I brought you lunch. A turkey sandwich with sprouts, tomatoes, lettuce, and avocado. Plus a bag of chips.” She pulled them from a paper bag and plunked them down in front of him, along with a chilled bottle of water. Heaven.
He opened the bottle and drank half of it down with one breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”
She leveled him with a ‘come on’ stare. “You’re letting me live in your house and sleep in your bed and eat your food. The least I can do is bring you lunch. Especially since I accidentally killed the outlet and forgot to tell you.” She winced.
He’d plugged his phone in to charge, and hadn’t realized that the outlet wasn’t working until he woke up with only minutes to spare before his first appointment—and a dead phone. “It’s fine. I was only ten minutes late, and I caught up pretty quick.”
“Still.” She pulled a homemade rice crispy treat from the bag. “Here’s an apology treat. I made it this morning. I know it’s not gourmet, but—”
“Thank you,” he said. Emotion hit him unexpectedly, like a 2x4 to the side of the head. It was more than the food she brought, but that feeling of someone caring for him. OfElianacaring for him. He dug in to his turkey sandwich before he started to do something he couldn’t come back from—like bawling like a baby or proposing. Either one would probably scare her off.
She rifled through one of the tones, and pulled out a breathable container with Louisa May Alcott in it. “Louisa says hi,” she told him. She opened the top and set it on his desk.
“Hi, Louisa,” he replied, placing his finger close enough for Louisa to nudge her nose against it.
He felt Eliana’s happy smile all the way down to his toes. So what if he was talking to a turtle, losing his home in two weeks, and would be completely adrift?
He’d made Eliana smile today.
“Also, I brought this,” she said, her eyes alight with energy. From the other canvas tote bag, she lifted a black plastic rounded box that looked familiar.
“I had a few minutes this morning to go through boxes—”
“Elly, you don’t have to do that.”
Was it just him, or did she settle even more comfortably into the chair at the sound of her nickname. It had just slipped out.
“I know,” she said. “I want to. I filmed some content, but I needed a break. I tried to write, but it’s like walking through tar today.”
He hoped it was because she was feeling less committed to her vow of singleness.
She handed him the box, and he flipped it open to reveal alphabetized index cards with names and contact information written on them. “It’s his rolodex.”
“Flip to where I put the sticky note.” She retrieved another rice crispy treat from the paper bag—how much food did she have in there?—and took a bite.
He navigated to the letter M, and then he saw it. Michael.
Eliana’s voice was soft. “I know it’s been bothering you, why your grandpa would have dug up so much dirt on everyone.”
“Should I call him?” he asked. Seeing his grandpa’s familiar cursive made him feel shaky and unable to think clearly.
“I think you should,” she said.
No time like the present. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number into it.
“This is Mike,” the no-nonsense voice answered.
“Hi, this is Asher. Asher Brooks. I’m Mason Brooks’s grandson.” Eliana smiled encouragingly, and he continued. “He died. Last year. And while cleaning out his things I found a strange box—and a letter to you.” He stumbled through the words, not sure how to explain, what information to give, if this was even the right Michael.
There was a pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “I wondered when this day would come.”
Asher straightened. “You know what I’m talking about?”
“I do. But this conversation would be better in person. Where are you?”
“In Diamond Cove.”
“I’m in Orlando. Let’s meet for dinner next week.” They determined a time and place, and Michael hung up.
