Mo scanned the surroundings, then nudged her toward her grandmother. “I’ll stay back. I won’t listen in. If you need me, give me a signal.”
Bronwyn didn’t argue. Mo’s presence on the property might be enough to send her grandmother to her not-so-early grave.
It wasn’t until she knelt beside her grandmother’s wheelchair that she realized she had no idea what signal she would use if she needed Mo. Oh well. She’d wing it.
“Grandmother?”
Grandmother Pierce looked at her and nodded approval. “I knew you would come.” Her voice had a gurgly quality to it thatBronwyn suspected did not bode well for her continued presence with them. “Do you know who tried to kill you?”
“Not yet. We’ve barely had time to breathe since it happened. But we’re working on it.”
“Bywe, I assume you mean you and that Quinn boy?”
“Yes, ma’am.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “He saved my life.”
“I heard.” She studied Mo where he now stood, beside Sebastian. “It looks like he took more than a bullet for you. What happened to his pretty face?”
“You think he’s pretty?” And why was that the part of the observation she’d focused on?
“The Quinn men have always been attractive. Catherine Quinn says it has nothing to do with appearance and everything to do with the fact that for the most part, she raised good men.”
“Do you agree?”
“Hard to disagree when my own sons have turned into lecherous pit vipers and few would call them handsome at this point.”
Ouch.
“The board plans to try to fire you.”
Leave it to Grandmother to get right back to business. She’d probably be trying to run the show from her funeral. “They will do what they will do. I will do what I must.” The words were true enough, but Bronwyn hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
Grandmother nodded a few times, and Bronwyn wondered if she’d fallen asleep. But then a bony hand reached out and grabbed her arm. “Get the bylaws. Study them. Be prepared. This isn’t over. I’ve made provisions.”
“Grandmother, what provisions have you made?” This cloak-and-dagger stuff was more than she had the patience for. She needed answers, not vague assurances.
But she wasn’t going to get them today. Grandmother’s coughstarted suddenly and continued so long that Bronwyn feared she might pass out.
She looked at Mo and with one glance, he turned to Sebastian, spoke a few words, and ran to the door of the house. When it opened, he spoke to the butler on duty, then returned to his spot by Sebastian.
Moments later, the day nurse dashed out the door and into the garden. “Good afternoon, Ms. Pierce. I’m Janelle.” She carried a mask attached to a small oxygen tank. “Now, Mrs. Pierce, when you talk too much, you start coughing.” Janelle settled the mask over her grandmother’s face. “Let’s take you back inside.”
She unlocked the wheelchair and pushed it toward the back door where a newly constructed ramp allowed easier access to the home.
“Do you need any help, Janelle?” Bronwyn asked.
“No, ma’am. Will you be coming inside?”
“No. I need to go. A moment, please.” She stepped in front of the wheelchair and leaned toward her grandmother. “I’ll do what you said. You rest.”
She didn’t tell her she loved her. She didn’t touch her. They weren’t a touchy-feely family. That was okay. Although, now that she thought about it, she craved a certain amount of physical contact. Maybe it was because she’d had so little of it growing up.
Mo joined her then, and they stood side-by-side as Janelle pushed Grandmother into the house. When they were back in the Jeep, she didn’t say anything. She drove back to Mo’s place and parked the car. Even though he must have been curious about what was said, Mo didn’t pry.
She appreciated that more than she could articulate.
By mutual consent, they walked to the firepit and sat in their chairs. It was warm but not miserable, a perk of living in the mountains in the summer. They had scorching days, but this wasn’t one of them.
Bronwyn finally steeled herself enough to speak. “My grandmother told me she’d made provisions.”
