Chapter 28 Jada
When I walked in from work, Glamma was sitting in her chair, fussing over a chain while the TV blared. It seemed like she wanted the volume louder and louder these days. Another reminder of her age, of the way she was changing right under my own nose.
“Glamma,” I called out. “I’m home.”
She looked up at me, a relieved expression crossing her face, and she muted her show. “Good, you’re here. I’m trying to thread this scarf through my new necklace, but my arthritis...” She pinched her lips.
“I’ve got it,” I said, taking it from her. A small knot of worry loosened in my chest, because my marriage to Bryce meant Glamma would be taken care of in ways I could never do on my own. Maybe I could even hire someone to stay home with her and help with little needs like this when I was working.
At least while we were married.
There was that knot in my chest again.
Taking a deep breath, I went to sit on the end of the couch nearest her chair.
She passed me her necklace—a chunky gold chain with rattling charms—and a red silk scarf.
The tag was still attached to the scarf, and I inwardly cringed at the price.
Hopefully I’d be able to figure out where she bought it.
“What did you get up to today?” I asked.
“I lit a candle at the church for you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You did?”
She nodded. “Prayed for something to happen with that man of yours. I want you to get married and give me a great-grandbaby—in that order, mind you.” She gave me a look that told me exactly what she’d think of my current predicament if she knew about it.
I looked back down at the project in my hands. “God works in mysterious ways,” I murmured, wondering when exactly she’d lit the candles. And if she’d considered her prayers answered if she knew the wedding was fake and the baby I carried wasn’t his.
“He sure does. I was about ready for you to give me that endometriosis story again. I keep telling you, miracles happen.”
My throat felt tight, so I simply nodded.
“How was work today? Esther and I chitchatted earlier, and she told me you’d missed a couple days. Why didn’t you tell me you were under the weather?”
“Stomach was just a little off,” I said, ironically close to the truth. I couldn’t tell Glamma about the baby now. Not when I was hanging on by a thread. Once the scarf was threaded through the chain, I said, “All done.”
She took it from me, examining my work. “Thank you.” Then she handed it back. “Here you are.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“I thought it would go great with the red dress I got you for your next date with the billionaire. You needed something nice to wear to whatever fancy place he takes you next.” She gave me a cheeky smile. “And don’t even worry about the price. I found it on clearance.”
At least there’s that. I shook my head at her, caught between exasperation and gratitude.
She was my only family left, one of the few people who thought of me when I wasn’t serving them drinks or changing their diaper.
“Thank you,” I said at last. And then I added, “I have good news for you too. Bryce is coming to dinner Friday night.”
When Friday night came, my stomach was a ball of nerves. Pretty sure that wasn’t a pregnancy thing. Just the fact that my fake-fiancé was about to spend an hour with the most important person in my life... and convince her we were madly in love.
Glamma may be getting older, but she was sharp as a tack. She’d sniff out any nonsense as fast as she found the sale rack in a store. But she was also incredibly excited to serve him dinner. So much so that she had me scurrying around to do last-minute chores before his arrival.
While stirring her pan of gravy, she called out, “Can you clear my pretty piles?” She was referring to her little stacks of mail, magazine clippings, and other bits and bobs she had stacked in every catch-all in the house.
“Sure,” I replied. I went to the table in the front entryway, picking up a stack of opened mail.
Didn’t matter who it was from, whether it was junk mail or not, she opened every piece and then tucked it all back in the envelopes to deal with later.
Recently, there had been less dealing with it though.
Which I figured out a couple months ago when the electric went out because she forgot to pay the bill like she had for the last fifty years.
Grabbing the mail, I flipped through each piece on my way to the wastebasket in the laundry closet. The bifold doors squeaked as they opened. Once the doors were out of the way, I dropped a few pieces of junk mail in the trash between the washer and dryer. Then red block letters stared back at me.
FINAL NOTICE.
My eyes widened as I took it in. The bill was for her cell phone. The one she carefully bedazzled over the course of a week.
The letter said they were going to cut her service in less than a week.
With an ache in my chest, I scanned the QR code and drained the last of my restaurant paycheck to pay her bill. I couldn’t keep up with Grandma’s bills and extra shopping with a baby depending on me.
Thanks to Bryce, Glamma would have everything she needed and more—I’d make sure of it.
I had just finished cleaning the last of her “piles” when the doorbell rang.
“Is that him?” she called from the kitchen. “I need to take off my apron!”
Glancing at the cat-shaped clock on the wall, I yelled back, “Let me check. Better make sure your bra’s on too.”
She cackled in response, making me smile. But as I walked to the door, my smile faded. This dinner was make or break—for my baby, for my grandma... and for me.
I rubbed a comforting hand over my stomach, because it was the three of us now. Even if Glamma didn’t know it yet. She could know after the wedding was official and her future was secured.
The doorknob felt cool under my shaking hand as I grabbed it and twisted, revealing Bryce Madigan looking devastatingly handsome on the front step.
A gust of wind sent the wind chime tinkling, and he smiled at me, his short hair only slightly ruffled.
In his hands, he held the most garish bouquet of flowers.
Already, I knew my grandma would obsess over the arrangement for as long as they survived.
In his other hand, he held a silver mixing bowl covered with a black rubber lid.
His eyes skated easily over my body in my orange cotton dress. “You look gorgeous,” he said. It sounded like he meant it.
“Bryce, I—" Before I could get any words out, Glamma edged me out of the doorway, sliding the last of her rings back onto her fingers. “Manners, Jada. Don’t make our guest stand out in the wind. Come on in, Mr. Madigan.”
Mr. Madigan?
Dumbly, I stepped out of the way, watching Bryce hand Glamma the flowers.
“Look at these, Jada!” she squealed like a much younger woman.
“No man has gotten me flowers since your granddad was alive!” She brought the bouquet closer to her nose, breathing in deeply.
Her murky brown eyes twinkled with glee.
“These need to go in water right away.” She shoved the bouquet to me.
I let out a huff, caught off guard by her force.
Bryce wore an amused smile on his lips, giving me a view of his dimples. God, they were so cute.
Too bad those dimples won’t get passed on to baby girl.
I nearly clapped my hand over my mouth, surprised at the thought. That had to be the hormones talking. Had to be.
While Glamma gave Bryce a tour of the house, I put the flowers in a vase with sugar water. This close, I noticed feathers tucked amongst the flowers—black spotted feathers like the Silkie chickens my grandma loved so much.
Bryce had remembered that after seeing her Silkie decorations on the front porch... or it had been a coincidence. It had to be, right?
That thought stayed in my mind until Glamma brought him around to the dining room, a little limp to her step thanks to her sciatica pain.
My heart squeezed at that little sign of age.
But I didn’t have a chance to dwell on it.
Not with her nodding toward the kitchen.
“Will you bring out the serving dishes, Jada?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feeling Bryce’s gaze on me as I went. It sent a blaze of warmth to my cheeks, especially with him telling me I was gorgeous earlier. Could he really be attracted to me? Could some part of this fake arrangement be real?
It was stupid to hope.
When I came back with the meal, Bryce gushed over it just enough to make Glamma feel good without setting off her bullshit detector–a very fine line to toe.
When we finished our food and I went to the kitchen to get the sheetcake Grandma made, I thought this thing might really work. At least well enough to convince her that Bryce and I could be in love.
That is, until I heard Glamma say, “Bryce, I noticed that bulge in your pocket. The perfect shape for a ring box. I know you’re not about to propose to Jada without getting my blessing.”