Page 11 of Windward Hearts

She rang the doorbell, and the sound of it echoing from inside the house summoned an acute sense memory from her childhood. She smiled, feeling as though she was nine years old again, coming to visit Miriam and Grandpa Harry for the annual weeklong visit that she and Felicity enjoyed each summer.

Her grandmother opened the door after a moment, and Hope was jolted back to the present. Miriam looked… well, not quite frail, but certainly more so than she had the last time Hope had seen her. It was strange to find herself eye to eye with a woman who had loomed larger than life during Hope’s childhood, but she supposed that this was how things always went. Time passed and things changed, even when you didn’t want them to.

But Miriam’s broad smile was as big and bright as ever, and when she threw her arms around Hope’s neck, her hug was no less comforting for the slightness of her form.

“Oh, honey, hello, hello,” Miriam greeted, pulling back to get a good look at Hope, just like she’d always done. “I’m so happy you’re here. I mean, I’m sorry about your job, of course, but I’m only sorry for you. For myself? I am delighted.”

Hope laughed brightly, letting herself be drawn into the cozy vestibule of her grandmother’s house.

“I’m so happy to see you too,” she said. “Let me just grab my bag.”

Miriam gave the suitcase in question a critical look. “That doesn’t look big enough for how long I’m going to try to convince you to stay,” she said doubtfully.

“Oh? And how long is that?” Hope asked.

Miriam fluffed her chic silver bob. “Forever, probably,” she said airily, which made Hope laugh again. This was the same old Miriam.

Except, Hope realized as they continued into the house, that was only somewhat true. Although her grandmother’s spirit remained undaunted, she did move a little more slowly than she had previously, and she was looking a little bit thinner than Hope would have liked. Even so, she moved around her kitchen with the confidence born of decades spent living in the same place, and when Hope offered to help make the tea that they planned to share, Miriam cast her an affronted look.

“Between you and my friends, you’d think that I had two broken hips and one missing arm,” she chastised. “I am not an invalid, my darling. I’m recovering well. My doctor actually told me that moving around a little bit is good for my recovery, so if you try to stop me from making this tea, I shall get Dr. Iverson to yell at you.”

Hope held up her hands in surrender. “Very well,” she acquiesced. “Don’t mind me.”

“I won’t,” Miriam said, sending Hope a wink over her shoulder.

When the tea was made and a plate of cookies deposited on the table, however, Hope couldn’t ignore that her grandmother did look as though the effort of getting this little snack together had cost her more energy than it should have taken.

“Are you really feeling okay, Mimi?” she asked, extending a hand across the table to lay it atop her grandmother’s papery skin. Miriam flipped her hand and held on to Hope’s fingers, offering a comforting squeeze.

“I might not be as young as I once was,” her grandmother admitted, “but there’s still some life in me yet; don’t you or your sister worry about that. Oh, yes, that’s right,” she added when Hope looked askance at the mention of Felicity. “Don’t think I don’t know that the two of you cooked this up together, not that I’m complaining. The only thing better than a visit from one of my girls would be a visit from both of my girls.”

“Felicity wanted to come, for what it’s worth,” Hope said. “She feels terrible that she can’t. But she’s got a classroom full of kids who’d be lost without her, especially this time of year.”

“Of course she does. That girl was born responsible.” Miriam pressed the plate of cookies in Hope’s direction, her eyes going soft. “Maybe she’ll come out over the summer, once school turns her loose. Wouldn’t that be something, having you both under this roof at once?”

“Careful,” Hope teased, taking a cookie. “Dream that big and you’ll never get rid of either of us.”

Miriam’s expression lit up. “Don’t tempt an old woman.” She quirked a brow, jerking her chin toward the back of the house. “I’ve got enough room in this old place for the two of you, easily!”

Hope laughed and settled in to listen as her grandmother caught her up on the local gossip, then pried the story of the closing restaurant out of her granddaughter. It was a lovely time, and Hope enjoyed herself immensely, although she kept getting distracted from her pleasure when she observed all the ways that Miriam seemed not quite in full health. There were a few slight tremors in her hands, and when she coughed, it was a little rougher than Hope felt comfortable with.

It was good that she had come here. She’d already known that, of course. She’d recognized the wisdom of the idea almost as soon as Felicity had suggested it. She’d needed a little time to freak out over the idea of changing her life even more than it was already changing, certainly, but once that had passed, she’d recognized the truth.

But that had been mental. This was emotional. This felt right. She was needed here, and though she’d liked her previous life, she hadn’t necessarily been needed there. It was… a nice feeling.

“I’m really glad I’m here, Mimi,” Hope said impulsively, reaching out to clasp her grandmother’s fingers in her own.

Miriam’s face creased into a soft, fond expression.

“Oh, honey,” she said, squeezing Hope’s fingers. “I’m so glad you’re here too.”

CHAPTER SIX

In culinary school, it had been drilled into Jared that a chef never, ever left his knives in anything less than perfect condition, no matter how briefly he was leaving his workstation. Over the years, cleaning and arranging his knives in their case had become a therapeutic action for Jared; since returning to Magnolia Shore and opening Riverstone Kitchen, he’d started performing this ritual at the window that connected the kitchen to the public space of the restaurant. This made it a two-for-one; he got to tend to his knives and connect with his community at the same time.

Today, he was just wrapping up polishing his paring knife when Cadence and Tyler Meadows came in for some lunch, this time without their daughter, who was likely spending the day with her grandparents. Jared smiled. He’d seen Cadence and Tyler having dates around town these past few months, and he was happy for them. The work they were putting into their relationship was clearly paying off.

“Hey guys,” he greeted. Tyler had helped with some of his electrical work when he was opening the kitchen, and he liked both the affable man and his wife. “Lunch date?”