11
Ryan sippedthe last of his wine while his grandmother and Grace chatted to one another, their conversation flowing easily. Miriam was still picking at her meal, taking small forkfuls every now and again. Her appetite wasn’t what it had been since before her cancer diagnosis, and it took her longer to finish her food, even when the portions were small.
He had no idea if Grace had sensed his grandmother’s slow pace at the table, but whether it was conscious or not, she had matched it, and had only just finished the last of her food. Ryan, as usual, had cleared his plate in record time. His grandmother’s cooking was too delicious not to wolf down at speed, and he knew it gave Miriam pleasure to see her food eaten with gusto.
While Grace had eaten with just as much enthusiasm as Ryan, she’d also talked at length during the meal, answering his grandmother’s questions about her work at the hotel and amusing her with the story about the bath she’d given Stanley the night before and the ensuing chaos unleashed in her bathroom. With Grace making such easy conversation, Miriam had been able to relax with her food and take her time, and Ryan liked seeing his grandmother looking so at ease in new company.
Sitting across from Grace at the dining table, he was able to study her features properly for the first time. Their previous interactions had been characterised by the drama of Stanley’s appearance on Foxglove Street, and then, this morning, taking him to the vet’s surgery and the boarding kennels and then back here to Ryan’s house. On each occasion, they’d been too preoccupied to talk to one another properly, and when they’d managed brief snatches of conversation in the car together, they’d both been sitting side-by-side and looking out of the windscreen.
Now that they were facing each other across the table, Ryan realised just how beautiful Grace was. Her hazel eyes were illuminated by flecks of gold that glittered when she laughed, and the soft sweep of her cheekbones and lush curve of her mouth gave her a darkly mysterious look. The way her hair fell around her shoulders left Ryan mesmerised.
What mesmerised him even more was that Grace seemed completely oblivious to her beauty and, thankfully, to the effect it was having on him.
“Well, I’m stuffed,” Miriam said at length and set down her knife and fork, her plate almost cleared, and with just a few stray green beans and potatoes left over.
“Thank you for a delicious meal, Miriam,” Grace said. “I loved it.”
“Thanks, Grandma,” Ryan added and gave his grandmother’s hand a squeeze.
“You’re both more than welcome, and it was my pleasure to cook. I thoroughly enjoyed myself pottering around in the kitchen this afternoon.” Miriam gestured to the table. “Can I leave the clearing up to you two youngsters? I think I’d like to close my eyes for a few minutes before we serve coffee.”
Ryan could see the fatigue now etched on his grandmother’s face. Despite her protestations that she’d enjoyed her afternoonof cooking, it was clear the exertions had taken it out of her and that she now needed to rest.
“Of course we’ll deal with the clearing up, Grandma. Why don’t you go through into the living room and have a quick nap or listen to the radio, and we’ll come through and join you once the coffee is ready.”
Miriam rose from her chair and nodded. “That sounds like a fine plan. But if I dose off, promise you’ll wake me?”
“I promise.” Ryan knew his grandmother needed her naps these days, but she had discovered that if she slept too long, she struggled to sleep through the night. Managing her energy levels was, he’d come to realise, a finely balanced juggling act.
“Good,” Miriam said. “In that case, I’ll see you both shortly.”
Once Miriam had departed for the living room at the front of the house, Ryan turned to Grace.
“Don’t worry about all these dirty dishes,” he said, gesturing to the tableware. “I’ll deal with everything later.”
“Don’t be daft,” Grace said, already getting to her feet and stacking the dinner plates together. “I can make myself useful. It’s the least I can do after enjoying such a great meal. We’ll have this lot cleared up in no time.”
They worked in companionable silence for a few moments, carrying plates and dishes and glasses to the kitchen area. Stanley rushed over to enjoy the leftovers from the dinner plates that Ryan scraped into his bowl before roaming the kitchen in search of any pieces of food that might happily drop to the floor while they cleared up.
Miriam hadn’t been joking when she’d said there was enough beef bourguignon to feed an army, and Ryan found containers for the leftover stew. It would please his grandmother to know he’d stored the surplus food in his freezer for another time.
“Your grandmother is a wonderful lady,” Grace said as they rinsed dishes and filled the dishwasher. “And she’s a wonderful cook, too.”
“That she is.”
“She looked tired all of a sudden at the end of the meal,” Grace said, lowering her voice and looking concerned. “I remembered you said she’d been unwell, and I hope she hasn’t pushed herself on account of me being here as a dinner guest tonight.”
Ryan shook his head. “She enjoyed your company. It’s not unusual for her to tire suddenly towards the end of the day, so don’t worry about that. She just…” He blew out a breath and pushed back against the worry that inevitably stirred. “She just struggles with how quickly fatigue can overcome her and pull the rug from beneath her feet.”
Grace gave a sympathetic smile. “It sounds like she’s been through something very difficult. I hope things get better for her.”
Ryan was touched by the thoughtful way she said this, expressing her concern and interest without digging for details that were private. Her considerate words and manner made him want to share those details with her. His grandmother, he knew instinctively from the way the two women had interacted during dinner, would have no qualms about him sharing some basic information about her illness.
“She was diagnosed with breast cancer ten months ago,” he told Grace.
The look of dismay on her face was unmistakable. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. Poor Miriam. She’s going to be okay, though, isn’t she?”
“Her treatments were brutal, but her prognosis is good, for the moment at least. I just hope it stays that way.”
