Except how could it be “good” for any of them to have her living a ferry or plane ride away from the two people who loved her most? They were tied to the island thanks to the business their father had founded more than forty years ago. It wasn’t like they could suddenly abandon what they’d all worked so hard to build. When they hired Hope, they’d bought themselves some time. But what if that time was up now? What would that mean for her and Ethan when they’d recently uprooted their lives to move to Gansett?

Paul’s stomach was tied up in knots, and he still had to talk to Alex about the appointment with David, not to mention what he’d learned about Ethan’s father. Steeling himself to face today and whatever lay ahead with his mother, Paul stood and tried to shake off the gloomy mood. He had to believe his father would be proud of the herculean effort he and Alex had put forth to keep their mother at home for as long as they had. He had to believe that because the alternative didn’t bear entertaining.

He left his room to encounter angry shouts coming from the living room, where he’d left his mother and Hope.

“I don’t know who you think you are, young lady,” Marion said, “but I have no time to take naps during the day. I have a husband and two sons to care for. Who will do the washing if I’m napping? Who will cook their dinner?”

“You’ll have plenty of time to do all that when you get up,” Hope said calmly.

No matter how much crap Marion shoveled on Hope, she never lost her temper, never lost her composure or her patience. It was admirable, because at times, Paul wanted to scream his head off when his mother went off on him. Thank God for Hope. He and Alex had said that so many times since she arrived over the summer and literally saved their lives.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said. “Go on ahead to work. We’ll be fine.”

“There’s my George now! Tell this woman, whoever she is, that I have things to do, will you please?”

It was a source of never-ending black humor to him and Alex that their mother couldn’t remember what happened a minute ago, except in the middle of an argument in which her memory became crystal clear. They had morbidly joked that they should fight with her constantly.

“Marion, Hope is just trying to help,” Paul said, channeling his father, who’d adored his wife to the point of distraction. “Will you please let her help?”

He watched as some of the starch went out of Marion’s rigid shoulders. “If that’s what you’d like me to do, George.”

“It is. It’s what I’d like you to do.”