4. Trent
TRENT
Sofia Garcia, Nana Dee’s homecare nurse, and Nana Dee’s best friend, Bernie Branson, met me at the door of the sprawling Jamesport house Nana Dee had lived in longer than I’d been alive.
Ever since the two of them had retired, my grandmother and Bernie had gotten in the habit of meeting two or three times a week for breakfast. Usually, that would be out somewhere, but since Nana Dee had gotten sick, Bernie had started regularly making the trek out to Jamesport.
Bernie patted me on the shoulder as she stepped out of the house. “You’re late,” she said.
“I’m not late.”
“According to Dee, you’re late.”
I checked my watch. I was right on time, but we all knew that as far as Nana Dee was concerned, if you weren’t five minutes early, you were late. “Thanks for making the drive out, Bernie.”
She waved me off. “You know I’d do anything for Dee,” she said and then glanced at Sofia with a sad look. “I just wish that she would feel that way about herself.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep trying to change her mind,” I promised.
“I know you will.” She patted my shoulder again before heading towards her car.
“How is she?” I asked Sofia, stepping into the house.
She closed the beautifully carved mahogany door behind me. “Honestly, even with Bernie here for breakfast, this morning hasn’t been great.”
“What happened?” Sofia waved me into the corner of the foyer, out of sight of the hallway. When I didn’t move fast enough, she latched onto my arm and tugged.
“She had some trouble getting out of bed,” Sofia said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure we were still alone. Nana Dee might have been getting on in age, but she still had ears like a bat and a sixth sense for when I was fretting over her.
If she spotted us, she’d tell us both off for gossiping about her. Then she’d be annoyed with me and Sofia for the rest of the day. “She also caught her cane on the oxygen tubing when we were trying to get her dressed,” she continued.
“Did she hurt herself?” I asked, worried.
“No, but she’s frustrated,” Sofia said. “And her energy is low. I could barely convince her to relocate to the living room for Bernie’s visit. I don’t think there’s any hope in getting her to go for a walk after all of that.”
I rubbed a hand down my face, watching the way the light reflected through the stained glass windows on either side of the front door, painting the wall in fractals of greens and blues.
I was forever grateful for Sofia’s patience. It seemed Nana Dee needed more and more encouragement to participate in daily activities. “Well, thanks for trying. Don’t worry about getting her up now. I’ll see if I can entice her into a walk a little later.”
I could only hope that meeting this furniture designer would cheer her up.
That was the one and only reason I was willing to put up with that flake after her initial reply.
Mr. Moneybags? And that winky face! I wrinkled my nose at the memory.
It was blatantly unprofessional, bordering on tacky.
After reading that message, I’d been close to saying to hell with it and dropping the whole idea—but damn, her furniture was gorgeous.
Whatever kind of trainwreck the creator was, she knew her craft.
I’d just have to see if she could figure out how to keep herself in check, at least for long enough to make a piece or two for Nana Dee.
I was desperate to find something to rouse Nana Dee’s spirits.
Since her diagnosis, she had lost her spark—it was hard to get her engaged and excited about anything.
That’s why I’d dreamed up this furniture commission idea—to get her invested in a project that would bring some of her vitality back.
So, whether I liked it or not, I needed this furniture designer to show up.
“Just watch the oxygen tubing when she stands,” Sofia was saying. “She’s been tripping over the lines.”
“Right,” I said. We were all still adjusting to Nana Dee being put on supplemental oxygen. It helped her breathlessness when she was up and moving around, but with the dizzy spells she’d been having, it also gave her something else to potentially trip over.
The doorbell rang. The furniture designer was early. Maybe trying to make up for said unprofessional comments yesterday. I’d hoped to have a few minutes with Nana Dee to let her know what I’d arranged, but it looked like plans had changed.
“More company?” Sofia said, frowning.
“I’ve got the door,” I said. “Can you let Dee know I have a surprise for her?”
Sofia hummed. “I’m not sure she’s in the mood for that right now.”
“She’ll like this one. I’m sure of it.”
Sofia nodded, hurrying away to the living room, while I turned for the door, swinging it open just as the furniture designer was poised to knock. Only instead of the stranger I was expecting, this woman looked far too familiar.
“You!” I exclaimed at this nightmare come to life.
I recognized her immediately—long dark hair, small waist, lips like a bow, bright eyes—and a scowl fit to scare off a demon as soon as her eyes met mine.
She was holding a bag of bagels. What in the nine circles of hell was the world’s worst waitress doing standing on Nana Dee’s porch?
I stood there, wondering if the nuisance would disappear if I closed the door and opened it again.
What, was she here to dump even more coffee on me and laugh like a hyena about it?
What the hell had I done to deserve this?
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” she said, equal parts startled and horrified. “What is happening?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled. “Are you stalking me now?”
Her expression shifted from shocked to offended. “How the hell would I stalk you when I don’t even know who you are? Contrary to your belief, the world does not revolve around you.”
Why had the universe insisted on trapping me in a loop with this woman? “I’m still waiting for the part where you tell me what you’re doing here.”
“I have a meeting. I was invited here. What are you doing here?”
Oh no. It couldn’t be. “You’re the furniture designer?”
“You’re my new commission?” Natasha said, repulsed. “The man who wanted new pieces for his grandmother? It’s not possible.”
Oh, was this the part where she was going to scold me for the way I spoke to my own father again? My blood pounded in my ears.
“After the way you talked to your—”
I scowled at her. “That is none of your concern.”
Natasha crossed her arms. “Oh really? Well, if that’s the way you treat your dad, I’m now worried about this grandmother you apparently care so much about.”
“You are so far out of line you can’t even see the line anymore.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
A car drove by. One of the neighbors in his top-down convertible. He lifted his hand to wave. I forced a smile and returned the wave. “Can you please stop making a scene on the porch? The neighbors are going to think something’s wrong.”
“Something is wrong.”
“Just get in here already,” I demanded, stepping aside.
Her eyebrows rose at the order. I watched with too much interest the way her lips parted slightly. She seemed to be considering whether she could turn tail and run instead. Then she threw her shoulders back and trudged past me into the house.
I tried not to stare at her ass, summoning the same patience I used when circumstances forced me to deal with my parents. As I closed the door, I noticed her looking around, gathering information or ammo or maybe just appreciating Nana Dee’s taste in furniture.
She came back to herself, narrowing her eyes the moment they locked with mine. “Well, I’m inside. Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” I told her. “Almost as ecstatic as I was to receive your crass message.” A smile curled across my face as she visibly bristled. Ah, yes, let’s talk about that instead of my relationship with my family.
“That…was a mistake,” she said, clearly mortified by her screwup even as she tried to hold on to her anger at me. She shook her hair out, the long strands falling next to her face, but it was too late. I could see how my comment affected her.
I glanced down at the bag in her hand. “Are the bagels your apology?”
“They were,” she muttered, though she looked like she wanted to shove the whole bag down my throat, hoping I’d choke.
“You don’t have to apologize for being attracted to me.”
She crumpled the bag in her hand, and I chuckled under my breath.
I had to admit I didn’t mind this shift in the conversation.
It sure beat having her accuse me of whatever horrible mistreatment she imagined I subjected Nana Dee to.
But also, she was hot when she was all worked up, her chest heaving, and I was enjoying that immensely.
“I’ll have you know that message was sent by my friend, Stacy,” Natasha muttered. “And I had no idea you were the recipient. So, you can quit stroking your ego.”
“Stacy, sure,” I said. “And does this friend often reply to your emails?”
“No,” she said. “She was doing me a favor.”
“Right,” I said, letting her hear the doubt in my voice.
“I don’t care what you think,” she said.
“Oh, but I think you do.” I looked into her eyes, getting a little lost in the green of them. So lost I didn’t even notice Nana Dee at the end of the hall at first.
“This is my surprise?” she asked, delighted.
I looked over Natasha’s shoulder, which wasn’t hard.
She was at least half a foot shorter than me.
Nana Dee was smiling bigger than she had in weeks.
It was still jarring for me to see her lean on her cane for support, pulling along that small cart with her oxygen cylinder, a string of clear plastic tubing trailing along behind her.
Despite being ill, she was still the Nana Dee I’d always known, her cashmere sweater wrinkle free, her short, grey hair curled at the edges, and her pearl earrings in place.
I was surprised at how quickly she made her way down the hall, rushing over to introduce herself to Natasha, who’d been struck speechless for a beat.