“Thank you, Nurse Jean.”
She gives me what I assume is an attempt at a comforting smile. “Is there anything I can get for you? A snack? Blanket or pillow?”
I must look as exhausted as I feel. “Actually, yes. I’ve had a long night and flew in from L.A.”
“I’ve got just the thing. I’ll be right back.”
I’m curling up with the blanket and pillow from Nurse Jean when Rex enters the room. I’m so tired that my eyes flutter. I don’t think I can stay awake, much less argue, right now.
“Go ahead. I’ll stick around and wake you as soon as Granny Jo is up.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. At least, I think I said it aloud.
I wake up disoriented when I hear my name.
“Camille.”
It’s spoken in a deep, familiar voice as I feel something rough brush against my cheek.
“Blissy Girl. Your Granny is waking up.”
My eyes pop open fast as I see Rex on his knees in front of me. His shoulders take up so much space that I don’t see anything other than him. He drops his hand away from my face and clears his throat, slowly rising and backing away like he’s afraid to spook me.
“You were sleeping so soundly,” he murmurs, apologizing for his touch. The rough texture I felt had to be from his calloused fingertips.
As a lumberjack, Rex spent long hours cutting wood and using his ax. I knew as the oldest of the Coleman brothers, he felt a responsibility to maintain the family business and ensure they were taken care of after the accident that killed his parents. The whole town mourned the loss.
I blink as I stare up at him, wondering why I’m suddenly thinking of Rex’s past and how much it must have hurt. Before tears can sting my eyes, I sit up as I turn toward the hospital bed. Granny Jo is awake!
“Granny!” My chest heaves with a rush of emotion as I push away from the uncomfortable chair. It wasn’t much of a bed, but it got the job done. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”
“Never better.”
She pats the bed, and I sink onto the firm mattress, reaching for her hand. “Granny, don’t lie to me.”
She gives my hand a squeeze. “Aches and pains are a normal part of life at my age.”
“Well, burns aren’t,” I point out, trying not to cry. “The Butter Bliss, Granny. It’s gone.”
“We’ll rebuild it.” She shrugs like it’s not a devastating loss.
“But all the equipment and the décor,” I begin.
She squeezes my hand again, harder this time. “I’ve always wanted to redecorate. Bring it up to date and breathe some life back into those old bones.”
“But the photos,” I say as my voice breaks. All the family and customer photographs taken at the Butter Bliss over the years during festivals, parades, and holidays. They’re irreplaceable.
“It’s a good thing I never keep the originals inside the bakery, then.”
Gasping, I nearly hug her until I remember the IV and her facemask. “You have them all?” There must be hundreds of images—maybe thousands.
“Every single one. It’s the history of the Butter Bliss and our family. They’re safely stored. We can have them reprinted.”
Granny starts coughing, and I realize she’s talking too much. “I’ll get the nurse.”
She shakes her head, coughing again as I head toward the door. Granny Jo is outvoted on this decision as Rex follows me to the nurse’s station, and I ask for someone to check on Granny.
“I can stay as long as you need me, but if there’s anything I can do, let me know.”
