Chapter 51 Grace
GRACE
Strawberry Springs Neighborhood Watch
Dean Briggs: Grace invited me to the group to say the baby is here. He’s nine pounds and doesn’t have a name. Please DON’T drop suggestions. This is hard enough.
Comments:
Tammy Jane: Where are the pictures?? Come on, you can’t leave us hanging like this!!!
Hu Gh: The baby’s probably ugly.
Kerry Winsor: HUGH! Don’t say that!
Hu Gh: What??? It swims around in juice for nine months and then gets squeezed out like toothpaste! None of us looked good when we were first born!
Jade Clark: Didn’t need that visual, but thanks. (The baby is very cute.)
Tammy Jane: You better not be holding out on us. LET’S SEE THAT BABY!!!
“Peter?”
“No, that doesn’t fit.”
“James?”
“Too boring.”
“Mason?”
“That makes me think of the glass jar brand.”
I blew out a breath from my comfy spot on the couch. Dean was currently bouncing our unnamed son as he tried to get him to sleep. He was a natural with this, or at least it seemed like it. I knew him well enough to figure out that he’d done as much research as he could.
I’d done well enough to simply birth the baby.
Our kid was adorable and I loved him more than anything, but I was still figuring out how to take care of him. I was still figuring out how to go from the Grace who was simply pregnant to the Grace who was now a mom.
Two days after giving birth, and I didn’t know how I would have done this by myself. I was given strict orders to rest, and I was exhausted just doing that. Unless it was feeding the baby—which was only me, considering that I was breastfeeding—Dean did everything else. Literally everything else.
I would have felt bad if I hadn’t given birth.
“Don’t you have to pick the name by today?
” Virginia asked, coming around the corner with two plates.
The hospital hadn’t been thrilled that we couldn’t settle on a name before I was discharged, so they’d sent home the packet to fill out and told us we had to figure out what to name him and turn it back in soon.
I’d gotten nowhere with figuring it out.
And it wasn’t like I had time.
After we came home, Virginia had insisted she take care of the house while we recovered. Dean tried to tell her she didn’t have to do that, but she wouldn’t accept no for an answer.
I might have cried about it.
After the detonation of my relationship with Brooke and giving birth, my emotions were in a delicate place. Virginia had warned me these were the baby blues, but I felt like I was tearing up at every given moment.
Thank God Dean knew not to judge me. If he’d been any less of a perfect partner, I might have killed him.
But between Dean and Virginia, I had the support I needed. I didn’t realize how many clothes we’d go through in just a few days, but she’d made sure we never ran out and that the house was clean.
The town had also come through for us, both with apology treats for Dean and other food for us so none of us had to cook. Since I was the best cook out of the three of us by a long shot, we needed the help.
“Yeah, we do,” Dean replied. “Nothing seems right, though. I want something that matches his personality.”
“Well, if we’re going by personality, we have three options.” Virginia began counting on her fingers. “Eat. Sleep. And poop.”
“Already considered those,” Dean said. “Grace told me they weren’t name-y enough.”
“Whatever you choose will be perfect,” she said. “They’ll grow into the name.”
“Boy names are hard,” I groaned. “None of them sound right.”
I expected Dean to agree with me, but he was looking at the baby pensively. I thought he was staring in awe again. I’d caught him doing that often when he was holding him.
But the longer he went, the more Dean seemed to be deep in thought.
“Do you have something?” I asked.
“I was . . . thinking about it. But it might not fit.”
“Tell me,” I said. He only got like this when he had an emotional connection to something, and I knew I needed to consider it.
“Samuel,” he said. “For my dad.”
“Oh.” Virginia’s eyes instantly got wet. This was the first time she’d had any reaction to a name. “That’s . . . well, Grace, what do you think?”
This meant a lot to them, and I knew how much Dean had loved his dad. There were times when I wished I could have met him. I looked at the sleeping baby in Dean’s arms, imagining calling him some version of that for the rest of my life. I knew my answer immediately.
“I love it,” I said. And I did. It was the only thing that felt right.
“Really?”
I nodded. The name fit him perfectly. It had a lot of nickname potential too. After calling him different pet names for the last few days, both Dean and I would love giving him something for just him. I gazed at our perfect son and realized I had everything I could ever want.
Then I was tearing up again. Dean walked over and silently rubbed my shoulder as I got myself together.
“We’ll have to fill out that paperwork from the hospital finally,” I said as I wiped my eyes. “I need to do that, and probably check my mail.”
“I’ll handle that,” Virginia said. “Be right back.”
“Thank God for your mom,” I said to Dean.
“She’s never gonna leave. I hope you know that. She’s been wanting grandkids since the day I was born.”
Most people would be bothered by that, but for the first time since Mom died, my house felt alive.
“You know, if the hospital bills and court cases aren’t that bad, which is a pretty big if . . . part of the basement could be refinished into a mother-in-law suite.”
“You’re willing to let your future mother-in-law live here?”
“That would require you to marry me.”
“Oh, Mama, I have plans for that. I just need this one to not poop and throw up as much.”
I laughed and cleared my throat. Emotion was already back to clogging me up, and I wanted one hour where I wasn’t shedding tears. The baby blues couldn’t leave fast enough.
“To answer your question, no, I wouldn’t mind it. She’s the best mother-in-law I could ask for.”
“She’s amazing, and I know she’d love that. I think life was a little . . . boring for her after Dad died.”
“Then let’s hope we don’t get screwed by all the bills we have.”
“Let’s hope,” he repeated.
“The mail is mostly junk,” Virginia said, walking into the room. “Though, this looks quite official. It was shipped overnight, which means it must be important.”
“Might be the first bill,” I muttered as I took it from her.
“I don’t think insurance processes that fast,” Dean said.
“With our luck, they did it immediately.”
Dean could only shrug. No one in the room could deny that we’d had our brushes with bad luck, and ever since Brooke tried to ruin things with us, nothing felt like it was going my way.
Opening the envelope, I braced for a large number.
But the first thing I saw was a letter.
To Grace and Dean,
The entire town wrote to the grant asking us to cover any legal expenses related to an incident with your sister, Brooke. We are happy to approve those funds.
But I’d like to go one step further. I heard you had a baby recently, so I’d also like to cover any medical expenses related to that, plus anything else that may come up. Attached is a check that should cover all of this.
Congratulations to you both.
The STM Grant Founder
My jaw dropped. I had to reread the letter three times to make sure it was real. Once I realized the words weren’t changing, I finally spoke. “Oh my God.”
“Don’t worry about the amount.” Dean was quick to assure me. “I’ll work more and we can do a payment plan—”
I flipped the letter over and covered my mouth. This was more money than I’d ever seen in my life.
“Honey, tell us, what’s happening?” Virginia’s voice was soft, but I could hear her worry.
“The town applied for the grant for us to pay for a lawyer to make sure Brooke never bothers us again.”
“The grant. The STM one?” Dean asked. “Did it not cover it?”
I turned the check around. Dean went pale. Virginia gasped.
“Is that a check?” she asked. “A real check?”
“No way did they send that much money,” Dean said as he shook his head.
“I’ve never—I don’t understand.” I looked at it again, flipping over both the letter and the check, looking for some sign it was fake.
Instead, I saw a Post-it stuck on the back.
You of all people deserve this, Grace. Cash the check. The money will go through.
I stared at the handwriting. I dimly recognized it, but the letters were shaky. It was either that they were nervous . . .
Or they were older.
“We should cash it,” I found myself saying.
“You really trust this thing?”
“I have doubts, but I think it’s . . . someone I know. Someone who cares.”
Dean looked over my shoulder and read the note. “I’ll take it to the bank and try it. Who knows if the money will go through.”
“And if it does?” Virginia asked.
I spoke before Dean could. “Then I think we just found our solution to . . . everything.”