I remembered now. My parents had had to step up to watch the Hoyden in her absence, which was a rarity. Grandma Jo hardly ever took time off, let alone a whole month. They had played it off like she was taking a much-needed vacation.

She nodded. “I was a mess.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Not unlike I am now.”

“And Esha?”

“Is someone I like. Very much,” she said quietly.

“In only a few days?”

To be honest, that was more about me and what I was feeling for Arthur. What if it wasn’t real? What if it was only because of the holidays?

“Well.” She reached up to lightly stroke the front of her throat as a flush darkened her cheeks. “It’s a little longer than that. She called personally to book their rooms. We got to talking, then, to my surprise, flirting and . . .” She caught herself, becoming aware I was still there, listening. She shifted in her chair. “And I like her.”

I thought about updating Arthur with this new information, but then I remembered I couldn’t. And I felt as deflated as my grandmother looked.

“Then why did they check out? And why did she seem upset?” I asked.

“Because Esha learned you didn’t know about me. It was one thing to not tell Dean, whose approval on the building board I need in order to get that spa built. It’s quite another to not tell your own granddaughter. And Esha’s had too much experience with dating people who aren’t truthful to risk going down that road again. I don’t blame her.”

“But you’ve told me now. I know. Everyone can know, right?”

I watched her shoulders, so much broader than mine will likely ever be, droop. “Finley, I’m not sure I’ll ever be that brave,” she almost-whispered in self-directed disappointment.

I slumped back against the sofa, dismayed by her answer. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed some emotion and her gaze grew hazy and unfocused. I felt the urge to go over to her and grab her by those drooped shoulders and shake her, tell her, You can be that brave. I’ve seen you be brave a million times. But I was in no position to lecture anyone about that, about bravery.

The room was quiet for several minutes and the logs in the fireplace crackled. I swung back to one of the things she’d said.

“Hold up, Grandma. Are you saying you’ve been stringing along Dr. Raymond to get the spa built?”

She half rolled her eyes and waved me off. “Dean plays the numbers. He’s flirting with at least seven other women as we speak.” She snorted. “There’s practically a Facebook group for us.”

“Seriously?”