Caleb froze.
“Glenna,” he said, carefully.
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him before he could step back. He stiffened, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, patting his shoulder. “You look thin. Are you eating?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, gently but firmly disentangling himself. “You can’t just grab me.”
She laughed, unconcerned. “You always say that.”
“Do you know each other?” I wondered.
Glenna ignored me and gestured proudly at herself. “Do you like my shirt?”
It was a white t-shirt with Caleb’s face printed across the front, smiling broadly, a guitar slung over his shoulder.
“And I brought you something,” Glenna continued, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a sweater, thick and aggressively patterned, pink, orange, and yellow colors clashing in a way that felt intentional. “I knitted it myself.”
Caleb’s mouth twitched. “It’s… very warm.”
“I made it with love,” she said. “And extra yarn. You never know with winters.”
“Glenna,” he said, lowering his voice. “We need to talk.”
She nodded eagerly. “Yes. We do.”
I cleared my throat. “Maybe in the sitting room?”
Glenna turned to me, delight lighting her face again. “You’re just as sensible as I hoped.”
Caleb’s eyes met mine, apology flickering there, mixed with something heavier.
“I came to talk about the interview, but first I need to take care of this,” he said quietly.
“She’s wonderful,” Glenna interrupted, gripping my arm and pulling me against her side. “I’ve decided I’m going to like being her grandmother.”
Caleb exhaled slowly.
This was fixation dressed up as affection, I realized.
“Glenna, you have a restraining order. You know you can’t be around me or my family,” Caleb told her.
My heart stumbled. “What?”
“She tried to pick up my niece from school. She said she was helping,” Caleb revealed with a grimace.
I stared at Glenna, who was now humming again, unfolding the sweater with reverence. “I wanted to spend some quality time with Abby. Besides, the order expired. I can be anywhere I want to be.”
I stepped away from Glenna to stand beside Caleb.
“She’s not dangerous,” he added quickly. “But she’s not… grounded.”
Glenna looked up, catching the tail end of that. “I’m perfectly grounded. I just care.”
As she launched into a detailed recounting of the first concert she had ever attended, complete with dates and setlists, I felt the world tilt slightly. The interview had brought attention to both me and the inn. This was not contained. This was not small.
And somewhere behind us, I saw a phone lift. Someone took a picture.
