“You had a heart attack,” I stated. “That’s pretty serious.”
She waved me off once more. “A mini heart attack.”
“Which is still a heart attack. Grandma Claire, you scared the crap out of me. We need to do some more research to see what happened. Dad is already talking to a few doctors. I was searching for answers or tips to change your diet and—”
“Karla,” she said, placing her hand against my forearm. “Maybe life changes tomorrow. I’m not ready to talk about turkey bacon and crap. Maybe just grandmother-granddaughter talk tonight.”
I wanted to argue with her and talk to her about her addiction to all things cheesy and deep fried, but she was right. It wasn’t the time. I just selfishly wanted to shift into improving her health as much as possible. Because I wanted her to be around as long as possible.
I forced a smile out to hide my nerves. “OK. Grandmother and granddaughter talk it is.”
“I feel awful for ruining the event. What a scene I caused. Plus, now you’re here with me instead of tending to your new bookshop...”
Now it was my turn to wave her troubled thoughts away. “It’s fine. The bookstore will be fine without me for a little while, anyway.”
“Karla—”
“Truly.” I took her hand into mine. “There’s nowhere else in the world I’d want to be than right beside you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and took in that truth. I was certain she’d feel guilty for the incident for a long while, but I figured it was the burnt toast theory playing out in full force.
It was Lorelai who taught me the concept of “burnt toast” theory. It was the idea of a person being in a rush, and something going completely wrong, for example, burning your toast on the way to work. So you had to take the extra time to make new toast. Then on your way to work, you see that you missed a massive accident on the road. Therefore, the burnt toast of the morning saved your life.
My bookshop opening was Grandma Claire’s burnt toast. If the event wasn’t taking place, she could’ve been home alone. She could’ve had the heart attack with no one else around to call 9-1-1. She could’ve died.
I’d throw a million bookshop openings that went sideways if it meant that she’d be OK.
Plus, a bonus to the burnt toast theory: Ash.
If we didn’t call the ambulance, he would’ve never shown up to the shop. And I would’ve never been able to see his eyes again.
“You won’t believe who saved you today,” I told Grandma Claire.
She arched an inquisitive eyebrow.
I smiled. “Ashish Banks.”
She sat up straighter. “You don’t say?”
“I know. I was as surprised as you.”
“What a sweet boy he’d been. You two were quite close for a while there.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “We were.” Were. Past tense.
“This feels like kismet. Did you exchange numbers with him?” she asked. “I’d love to thank him for saving me.”
“No. It all happened too quickly.”
Grandma Claire frowned. “Oh, what a shame.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing Ash. He looked so different, but also... the same. He was a bit more built, but he still had the same smile as always and the same light, yet sadder brown eyes. His eyes made me wonder how hard the past few years of his life had been for him.
Grandma Claire’s eyes faded shut as she released a small yawn.
I patted her hand in mine. “You should get some rest.”
“Will you stay until I’m sleeping?” she quietly requested.
