Then he nods once. “All right.”
I blink. “All right?”
“I’ll move to the dining room,” he grumbles.
Relief floods through me.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because if the crew you hire puts so much as a scratch on your grandmother’s bed, I’ll get my shotgun after ’em.”
I grin. “Deal.”
He picks up his fork again.
“You’ll need to move the china cabinet too,” he mutters.
“Easy enough.”
“And tell them not to chip your grandmother’s china.”
Those dishes haven’t left their shelves since the Christmas before she died.
“Got it.”
“And the chandelier might be too low for a bedroom.”
“I’ll have an electrician come adjust it.”
He studies me thoughtfully.
“Should probably replace it with something more practical. But don’t get rid of it. It’ll need to go back up once I’m in the ground.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Your grandmother wouldn’t like that you worry so much.”
My chest tightens. “Someone had to take over for her.”
He takes another bite of steak.
Then smiles.
“You should bring dinner by again tomorrow.”
I laugh. “We’ll see.”
But the truth is …
I probably will.
Iplace the pothos plant Grandma potted for me on the windowsill and take a step back. It’s the perfect final touch.
I spent the past two weeks sprucing up my workspace between Diana’s many scheduled training sessions. So far, she’s had me learn the hotel’s check-in and checkout procedures and trained me on the property management system that handles reservations and billing. Taught me the Belicourt’s ten-to-five rule—smiling at every guest within ten feet and greeting them at five feet.
