His head came up. A smiling, middle-aged woman stood near the door. “Yes.”

“You can come on back.”

Pocketing his phone, he stood and followed her to the examination room where his grandmother and the doctor—who looked to be about the same age as Nana—sat laughing about something.

At Gabriel’s entrance, the man stood and extended his hand. “I’m Dr. Jacobs. I’ve heard a lot about you, Gabriel.”

Gabriel shot Nana a quick glance. “Nice to meet you. I hope nothing too bad.”

“Not at all,” the doctor said warmly. “Have a seat. I understand you have some questions.”

He lowered himself into the chair next to Nana. “Not questions really. Just want to know how she’s doing.”

“She’s doing quite well. I adjusted her blood pressure medication last time because her pressure was a little low, but now it’s in the normal range, so I’m pleased.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. Her high blood pressure had been the cause of the stroke, and it gave him a measure of relief to know that the levels had decreased. “So am I. Is there anything she needs to be doing or something I should be aware of?”

“We’ve worked on changing her diet to include less fried foods, and she has started walking a few times a week. She’s doing a great job.”

“I told you I was okay,” Nana said, eyeing both men.

Dr. Jacobs smiled. “I’ll see you in three months, Della.”

Gabriel stood and helped Nana up. “Thanks, Doctor.”

The older man patted Gabriel on his shoulder. “Anytime, son.”

Nana slung her purse on her shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Howard. Tell Ada I’ll call her about the Tahoe trip.”

“Will do. Take care.” He escorted them out to the front, spoke with the receptionist, then went back down the hall.

It dawned on Gabriel that her next appointment would coincide with the time frame he had planned to be back in Atlanta. Then he thought about her having to find another doctor. She seemed to have a familiarity and rapport with Dr. Jacobs. When he’d broached the subject over dinner, Nana had all but shut him down. It seemed bringing her around to his viewpoint would require far more persuasion than he’d anticipated.

*  *  *

Friday afternoon, Serenity finished her last chart and packed up to leave. The office closed at four, and that gave her plenty of daylight to still get some things done.

“Hi, Ms. Wheeler.”

She turned and smiled. “Hi, Brianna. How are your ears?” The six-year-old had come in to follow up on an ear infection.

“Dr. Thomas said all the bad stuff is gone,” she answered with a huge grin. “I’m having a tea party on Saturday. Wanna come?”

“I’m sure Ms. Wheeler has other things to do,” her mother cut in.