“All right, then.” She glanced at Hope tentatively. “What did you want me to do again?”

Hope nodded for the door, encouraging Paul to get while the getting was good. He and Alex had made her promise from the outset to call them if anything ever happened that she couldn’t handle—even if they were working. They’d promised to come running. She’d yet to call.

As he walked out of the house and crossed the yard to the building where they kept their equipment, Paul texted his brother. Where are you?

Alex replied immediately. Chesterfield.

Stay put. I’m going to stop by.

I’m here for the day.

Paul loaded the truck with the tools he’d need for the abbreviated workday mapped out for him by Jenny, who now managed their workload as well as the store, and headed to the Chesterfield property, which was now owned by Jared and Lizzie James. They’d turned Mrs. Chesterfield’s estate into a first-class wedding venue, which would host Alex and Jenny’s wedding next month.

Alex had made the secret garden inside the elaborate hedges his own pet project, which Paul supported and encouraged. His brother had given up a fantastic job working at the US Botanic Garden in Washington, DC, to come home to help Paul when their mother’s condition took a turn for the worse.

If cultivating the gardens at the Chesterfield gave Alex an outlet for his considerable horticultural talents, Paul refused to begrudge him that. He’d never begrudge either of them anything that brought them even the slightest bit of joy in the midst of the never-ending sorrow of their mother’s illness.

Jenny brought Alex joy, too. His brother had been a different person since she came into his life, and no one was happier for both of them than Paul.

He parked in the circular driveway in front of the huge stone house and headed directly for the garden. Inside the tall hedges, Paul found his brother clipping and pruning and tending to the blooms, whistling while he worked. Paul supposed if he got laid three times a day without fail, he’d whistle while he worked, too.

The thought made him feel petty, so he squelched it as fast as he had it. “Hey.”

“Hey, what’s up? How was the appointment with David?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not bad, but there was a development.” He explained David’s concerns and the plan to take Marion to the mainland to be evaluated by a dementia specialist.

Alex sighed, wiped the sweat from his brow and took a long gulp of the ice-cold water he guzzled all day long. “We’ve known we were living on borrowed time for a while now.”

“I guess. What’re we going to do if they tell us—again—that she needs in-patient care?”