Eight a.m.
Compared to Noelle’s internal wake-up clock of five a.m., this was my definition of sleeping in. Gently, I slipped out from under the covers, trying not to disturb Grace any more than herdreams did. I hoped to avoid Fiona’s watchful eye as I snuck downstairs to the bed-and-breakfast’s lobby for breakfast.
As I pulled on my jeans, I decided I wouldn’t bring up Grace’s nightmares, or the names she had called out in her sleep. I would keep following her lead. When she was ready, she’d tell me.
I hoped.
I might not have had the same insight that my mother did, but she had confirmed what I was afraid of. Grace was punishing herself—of this I was certain. All of her talk about not being good, all her worries, they clearly weighed on her. It was obvious that she didn’t see herself clearly. I just had to keep being patient with her, show her through my words and actions that she was a good person, and maybe she’d finally let go of what was haunting her.There was no way whatever she did was bad enough to warrant everyone she knew dropping her like a bad habit.
The longer she held it in though, the more concerned I grew that she was going to let this secret overshadow her. Overshadow us.
We could be so good together. I just hoped Grace gave us the chance.
I had one mission: Get downstairs, grab some snacks, and get out before Fiona caught me.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
Here I was a thirty-five-year-old man and I was scared of a five-foot tall, older woman, who was half blind.
The second I cracked open the door to Grace’s room, I could already hear the sounds of morning-life humming through the old house. The clatter of dishes, the murmur of voices, theunmistakable scent of the fresh coffee grounds that Fiona got from Ms. Kenzie.
It was risky, but I was starving. Grace and I skipped dinner, and while I had my fill of dessert between Grace’s legs, I needed something a bit more substantial.
I took a cautious step into the hallway and listened for any sign of Fiona. Her necklaces jingled so much they could be heard a mile away, and she often used a cane that dragged across the floor, making a squeaking sound, so this shouldn’t be too difficult.
I crept down the staircase, keeping to the edges to avoid creaks. I knew this house well enough to know the boards that would betray you. Fiona had run this bed-and-breakfast for as long as I’d been alive. I was willing to bet she had some kind of sixth sense when it came to knowing who was coming and going.
Halfway down, I hesitated. The hallway to the kitchen was ahead, and if I timed it properly, I should be able to sneak in, grab something off the counter, and be back upstairs before?—
“Well, well, well.”
I froze.
Busted.
Slowly, I turned my head and found Fiona standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Her hair was in rollers and her signature Coke bottle glasses were sliding down her nose.
“You sneakin’ around my house, Caleb Jameson?”
I cleared my throat. “No, not sneaking. Just … walking quietly.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And that wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you spent the night upstairs. Would it?”
I signed, running a hand through my hair. “Fiona?—”
She held up a hand. “Now don’t ‘Fiona’ me. I wasn’t born yesterday, but here you are, skulking around like a teenage boy sneaking out after curfew. You’re lucky I like this one.” Fiona jutted her chin toward the stairs.
I liked this one too.
CHAPTER 22
Grace
Daylight always hada way of bringing clarity, and as I bopped around my room, I couldn’t help but reflect how much things had changed for me. Living at The Grand was different from anything I’d experienced. I grew up privileged, and if it weren’t for Julia, I wouldn’t be humble at all.
Cleaning was a new task for me. Not because I wasn’t a clean person. My life might be a mess, but I could handle basic mundane tasks. Did I outsource those tasks when I lived in the city? Yes. But my room at Fiona’s was small and easy to keep tidy.
