“I can help.” A moment of silence, unusual for Sheila. “Are you okay?”
Oh. She had the wrong idea. “I need to put some money into my family’s business. A struggling old inn. Appreciate the concern, though.”
After arranging to sell some stock for immediate cash, he put his Coronado Island condo up for sale to cover upcoming hotel repairs. He glanced across the room, where his guitar sat propped against the wall, the land grant still sitting next to it. If he didn’t move one of them soon, Josie would quit for lack of decent office space.
But for now, the time had come to let Granddad know Caleb had failed to keep the inn afloat, even for the few weeks he’d worked here. He dreaded this conversation more than he’d dreaded coming to Jonathon Island to begin with.
Because although this run-down place represented failure to Caleb, it had been Granddad’s life since the day he was born.
Caleb stopped at Granddad’s door, understanding at last the real reason the older man left it propped halfway open every day. He hoped someone would stop by, because life in the hotel biz got lonely. At least, the way the Kennedys currently lived it.
Their way had worked for a while, back when they all had apartments in their third-floor family complex and interacted all day long, every day. But then, after Granddad’s stroke, Uncle Augo spent his time on his boat or fishing off the shore, and Aunt Annabelle worked at her volunteer positions all over the island, leaving Granddad alone.
When Ariel had left for the Grand, Caleb felt that kind of loneliness. Drake’s band had functioned as family for him, but now, other than occasional phone calls, that tie had loosened.
Later, Caleb entered Granddad’s room and found him puttering around in the kitchen, pushing a rolling walker and setting a bottle of Russian dressing and a partial bag of shredded cheddar in the refrigerator. A salad bowl of lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cheese sat on the counter.
“When did you start using a walker? And moving around by yourself?” And when had he ever prepared a meal? Caleb had sometimes wondered if Granddad knew a kitchen existed in this apartment.
“Walker’s been here all along.”
“So has the kitchen, but you never used it.” What was happening here? “Did anybody ever have a reverse stroke? Because that’s kind of what this looks like.”
Granddad just grinned at him.
Apparently, having Ariel as a caring friend and Caleb to spend time with him, now that he’d realized Granddad needed it, had changed him.
Regardless, the inn was in trouble, and Caleb had to tell him.
He carried the meal to the table, along with a cup of old-fashioned Sanka, Granddad’s favorite drink. “Truth is, I came with bad news. We have bedbugs.”
His grandfather sat at the table and paused for his silent prayer for a few moments as usual. Then he made a little shooing motion with his hand and jabbed at his salad. “All hotels have jelly beans every once in a while.”
So he knew about jelly beans.
Caleb took the seat next to him. “Maybe so. But that was before the days of social media.”
“People need to stop trustinganti-social media.” He shot a pointed look at Caleb.
“Did you hear what they said about Ariel?”
“Yes, and I didn’t believe a word of it.”
Caleb looked into his grandfather’s deep-brown eyes. “Who told you?”
“Nobody.” Granddad reached in his pocket, then held up a cell phone Caleb had never seen. “I read it.”
His grandfather—with a cell phone? “You hate those things. What changed your mind?”
“I heard I could watch Miss Dahlia and Ariel on it, so I asked my friend to buy me one.”
“Your friend Ariel, I’ll bet.”
He just grinned. “She’s a lot like your mother.”
Until now, Caleb hadn’t recognized the similarity, but Granddad was right. Ariel had the same kind and gentle voice as Mom. A tender and generous heart, a meek and quiet spirit.
Granddad had loved Mom like a daughter and lost her. As Caleb recalled, that was when he’d gotten grumpy. Now, since Caleb had lost Ariel before he even had her, Granddad would feel it too.
