I accepted the little pile of envelopes with a grin. “Thank you.” I’d missed my usual evening trip to the store thanks to the chardonnay and impromptu nap.
“Everything okay?” she asked, giving a delicate, but audible, sniff.
I dared a look over my shoulder, thankful the smoke alarms were playing nice. “Failed recipe,” I said. “I’m getting used to it.”
Her smile was strained as she nodded, and the idea she had something more she wanted to say crossed my mind.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I offered. “The patio is nice this time of day. We can sit outside and watch the bunnies enjoy my garden.”
“I would love that.”
Several minutes later, we sat in the cool air, a tray with cups and teapot between us. I’d snacked with Cecily at this table not long ago, and it occurred to me that having guests and playing hostess was nice. I made mental plans to continue the practice in Willow Bend. Maybe I’d invite my family to my place for a change.
Grace sipped her tea, ankles crossed beneath her chair as she scanned the rear yard. “So many memories here,” she said.
I wondered if anything particular came to mind. Tea with her sister? A toddling Davis playing in the grass? “I’m really sorry about yoursister.” The words came out before I thought better of them. I couldn’t imagine her loss.
Her eyes flickered to mine, misted with emotion. “Thank you. Iris was an incredible woman. Much younger than me, but fiercely independent. I never dreamed anyone or anything could get the best of her.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I nodded, honored by her willingness to discuss someone so dear to her. “Davis said she gardened too.”
Grace set her cup aside and blinked back her unshed tears. “She was amazing at everything she tried. The best mother I’ve ever known.”
I smiled. “How fortunate for Davis to have two strong and loving women in his life.”
A tear fell over Grace’s fair, wrinkled cheek. She laughed softly as she swept it away. “Raising him was an honor. He’s turned out quite well,” she said. “I think Iris would be pleased.”
I was certain of it.
“I wasn’t perfect,” she continued. “I did the best I could, having never raised a child of my own. Davis still had his father, after all. I was only a stand-in. There was a tricky balance involved.” Her expression softened. “From what Davis told me, it’s much like your situation with Annie.”
“No.” I felt my eyes widen. “I didn’t raise her.” Suddenly the idea of taking any credit from a sick mother and worried father seemed callous and selfish. “I helped where I could. That’s all.”
“Ah.” She nodded, and her lips pursed into a small grin. “Mr. Rogers’s mother said when there is tragedy, look for the helpers. They’re always there.”
Now it was my eyes that blurred with unshed tears. “I’m not a hero,” I croaked.
“To her, and to your parents, you were.”
Her words hit like torpedoes, spoken with such assurance I sucked in a ragged breath. The possibility my family saw me as a hero gutted me in multiple ways. I wanted so badly for them to see my sacrifices andacknowledge them, but I didn’t want credit for credit’s sake. I wanted them to know I did it all from love. I’d do it again, a thousand times.
And I knew with certainty any one of them would do the same for me.
The thought made me so homesick I could puke.
“I know I come off as meddlesome at times where Davis is concerned,” Grace said, interrupting my internal meltdown. “It’s only because I love him so dearly. I want him to be happy. He’s worked all these years to be different from his father and to make a difference he can be proud of. Not that Carter is all bad,” she added quickly. “Few people are all one thing. Iris wouldn’t have loved him if he was truly awful, but her loss changed us. Carter turned to business instead of fatherhood to fill the void. Sometimes I worry Davis has forgotten to prioritize himself. He rarely spends his free time with anyone but Clayton.”
“And Violet,” I said, thinking of how the sweet doggo looked at him as if he were her whole world.
“He thinks he saved that dog’s life,” Grace said. “I think she saved his. Maybe not literally, but if not for her, he’d work more and get out less. She needs him, so he goes home. They take walks. Get fresh air and sunshine. Socialize. He’s not the sort to leave her alone more than absolutely necessary.”
“He’s her hero,” I said.
Grace raised her cup again, looking pleased at my assertion. “Yes, and all heroes need a break. It’s nice when they find one another, don’t you think? Seems like that sort of relationship might be a love story for the books.”
My cheeks heated at her implication, having called me a hero moments before. Then I thought of all the ways a potential romance with Davis had tanked, and my cynical side reared its head. “Yeah. Fairy tales.”
I cast my gaze over the garden, embarrassed by my response.
