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Chapter 7

7

The following Tuesday evening, Bree made a point to arrive at CeeCee’s ten minutes ahead of her usual time. She felt like a jerk for forgetting her last week. Grant had even called to be sure she planned to pick CeeCee up, which made her feel even worse.

She’d apologized to CeeCee numerous times, until CeeCee finally told her to “just shut up about it.” Still, she didn’t want Tim’s grandmother to worry one minute that she’d been forgotten again, so Bree was determined to leave work early for the next few weeks if she had to in order to regain CeeCee’s trust—everyone’s trust.

Grant had warned her they were going to be discussing some “difficult things” with CeeCee. Whatever that meant. She suspected it had something to do with Grant and Audrey’s concerns about CeeCee’s mental state. She’d noticed CeeCee was slipping a little. Nothing as bad as last week when she’d been late to pick CeeCee up and found her disoriented and in bed before seven o’clock. But then Bree wasn’t around Grant’s mother as often as the rest of the family was.

She felt honored that Grant had wanted to be sure she was included in the conversation. But at the same time, it made her feel like a traitor because she had another date with Aaron for Saturday night. And she still hadn’t mentioned anything about Aaron to any of Tim’s family.

On the drive out to the inn, CeeCee seemed completely herself, chattering on about her latest bridge game and what she’d made “the girls” for dessert. Bree wasn’t sure if Grant had told CeeCee about the conversation that was planned for tonight. Likely not, or CeeCee wouldn’t be going so willingly. Either way, she wasn’t going to be the one to spill those beans.

But when they got to the inn and Bree had helped CeeCee up the stairs, she saw that everyone else was already gathered in a knot near the table making obviously forced small talk. The two babies snoozed on the floor in the corner of the great room, but the older kids had been sequestered in the basement with sandwiches and a movie. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway that something was up, Bree didn’t know what was.

And CeeCee wasn’t fooled for a minute. Hands on hips, she panned the room with a scowl. “What exactly is it you’re all twittering about behind my back?”

Grant turned to Audrey. “Can we go ahead and get started eating? Mother, why don’t you have a seat.” Grant moved toward CeeCee and tucked her small hand in his.

But she pulled her hand away, taking a step back. “Don’t ‘Mother’ me. I want to know what’s going on.” She eyed Grant, then Audrey, who seemed hesitant to meet her gaze. CeeCee’s eyes narrowed. “Is this about trying to move me into the home?”

Grant threw Audrey a desperate look.

She stepped in with a strained smile. “Cecelia, why don’t we eat first, and then we can talk.”

“And you think I’d enjoy one morsel of food knowing you’re all going to pounce on me after dinner?” She turned to Bree. “I think you can just take me home, Miss Bree. It’s clear I’m persona non grata here.”

“CeeCee . . .” Not having a clue what was expected of her, Bree shot Audrey the same look of desperation Grant had.

He came to the rescue. “Why don’t we fill our plates, and we can all talk over dinner. Is that okay with you, Mother?”

“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” she huffed.

Bree felt the woman’s icy stare, but she didn’t dare let her gaze connect with CeeCee’s. For the first time in her life, she considered this might have been a good time to not be a Whitman. “Maybe I should go downstairs and watch the kids while you guys talk,” she squeaked.

“No, Bree. We want you here.” Grant’s unspoken message—you’re part of this family—was clear. And there’d been a time it would have warmed her heart. But right now it felt like a noose. Not just because it put her in an awkward position with CeeCee. But because it made her feel like a traitor, knowing that she might very soon be backing away from this family.

Even letting that thought form in such a concrete way made her feel queasy. But didn’t that fact say something about how she felt about Aaron? She’d been struggling to figure out her conflicting feelings where he was concerned.

They’d had a wonderful time on their date Saturday night, and he’d asked her out again for the coming weekend. He hadn’t tried to kiss her yet, or even to hold her hand. It endeared him to her all the more that he was taking it nice and slow. But things had definitely moved beyond mere friendship and in the direction of romance. She caught herself smiling and quickly sobered, hoping no one noticed.

Audrey tilted her head and gave her a questioning look, but just then Grant called for everyone to bow their heads while he blessed the food.

He’d barely said “amen” before Sadie appeared at the top of the stairs. “Simone spilled her milk.”

Corinne started for the steps, but Jesse stopped her.

“I’ll take care of it.” He looked mighty glad for an excuse to leave the room.

“I’ll dish your plate up, babe,” she called after him.

They all migrated to the island where the food was laid out buffet style. The adults filled their plates in relative silence, then congregated around the table in the great room, each taking their unofficial “regular” places. Grant and Audrey at the head and foot of the table, CeeCee at Grant’s right hand, Bree on the other side of CeeCee, and the couples paired off around the table.

But the laughter and teasing that usually graced these Tuesday night suppers had been replaced with an awkward politeness and whispered niceties more suited to a dinner party where no one knew anyone else.

CeeCee plopped into her chair near Grant at the foot of the table. Reluctantly, Bree took her own usual place on the other side of the older woman, feeling like she was the one in the hot seat.

But CeeCee ignored her and spread a paper napkin over her lap before looking up to glare at Grant. “All right, let’s get this over with.”

Grant exchanged a look with Audrey, then cleared his throat. “Okay. As you know, Mother, Audrey and I just don’t feel comfortable with you living on your own. It will be cold and miserable before you know it, and we really don’t want to have to go through another winter worrying about whether you’ve slipped on the ice or that your furnace has gone out or—”

CeeCee held up a silencing hand. “I see your strategy and I don’t appreciate it. Trying to make me feel guilty about causing you such hardship.” She gave a little harrumph.

Bree had to agree with CeeCee. She was a little surprised Grant had taken that tack, but then he’d known CeeCee far longer than she had. Maybe there was a method to his madness.

Audrey cleared her throat. “Our goal isn’t to make you feel guilty, Cecelia. We just want you to be safe. And with the inn, and our own kids and grandkids, we simply don’t have time to check on you every day to make sure—”

“No one is asking you to check on me every day.” CeeCee glared at Audrey and straightened in her chair, looking queenly. “Besides, Landyn lives just a few blocks away and she checks on me too. It’s not just you, you know.”

Landyn opened her mouth to say something, but Grant jumped in first. “Landyn has two little girls to chase after. And besides that, she’s traveling more and more with Chase. It’s not fair for her to have the extra responsibility. And if anything happened to you and none of us had checked on you for a few days, we’d never forgive ourselves.”

“Cut to the chase!” CeeCee waved her napkin like a white flag. “What is it you want me to do? And if I hear the words ‘nursing’ or ‘home’ I’ll be out of here so fast your heads will all spin.”

Bree wasn’t the only one who had to stifle a giggle at that. She wondered just where CeeCee thought she would go if she had to get “out of here” fast. Bree sure wasn’t going to drive her under such circumstances, and it was a long walk back to Langhorne.

Again, Grant exchanged a look with Audrey. “Believe me, we have no intention of uttering those words. On the contrary, we have a proposal to make, Mother.” He scooted back his chair and turned to look out the windows that overlooked the property. “There’s plenty of acreage out here. If we sold your house in town, we could use the proceeds to build a small cottage—a home for you—down in the meadow. If you lived right here we could be sure you were comfortable.”

Audrey took up the cause. “Grant and I have talked for a long time about building a guest house out there.” She pointed toward the meadow. “Originally, we were thinking we’d eventually move out there. The thing is, it’s not in the budget at all right now for us—even if we did most of the work. But if we built it for you, Cecelia, you could sell your house to fund the cottage . . . live there instead of going into assisted living. We could even—”

“Who said anything about assisted living?” CeeCee’s glare turned into daggers aimed at her daughter-in-law.

“What I meant was . . .” Audrey cleared her throat, backpedaling. “We could add a guest room and bath for a live-in nurse or aide—”

“Only if you ever needed one, Mother,” Grant said quickly.

Bree hid a grin. Audrey was treading on dangerous ground. Bree had been in this family long enough to know that CeeCee did not take kindly to the thought of being dependent upon anyone.

CeeCee turned to Grant, narrowing her eyes. “And then when I’m gone, I suppose you and Audrey would move into this cottage?”

“We might. Who knows”—Grant patted CeeCee’s knee under the table—“by the time you’re gone, we may both be in the nursing home.”

CeeCee looked at him over her glasses. “That sort of humor does not become you, son.”

“I wasn’t exactly joking, Mother.”

She snorted. “Oh, go on. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know. But I think this is probably a good plan. You just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

The Whitman kids—and even the in-laws—exchanged wide-eyed looks. These were not words they often heard from their grandmother.

Audrey leaned in. “Cecelia, we don’t want you to feel like we badgered you into anything. We want you to be on board with any decisions that affect you.”

“I don’t know that I’m on board.” She turned to Grant. “But I think your father would have been trying to get me to do the same thing. So I’ll go along with it. I won’t try to stop you.”

“I think it’s a great idea, CeeCee,” Landyn offered. “I mean, I’d miss having you close by in Langhorne, but I already see you here all the time anyway.”

Bree joined the others in murmurs of approval—right on cue.

She was surprised and a little disconcerted by how easily CeeCee had been persuaded. Grant reached to pat his mother’s knee again, and it struck Bree that Grant had become the parent and CeeCee, the child. She swallowed over the lump in her throat and pushed away an irrational thought: what would Tim say when he found out about today’s events?

“You’re probably tired now,” Audrey said.

“We’ll sit down again soon and come up with a plan,” Grant said. “And a timeline.”

“You and your infernal timelines,” CeeCee huffed. “Your father always had to put everything on a timeline, too. I say just get it over with. Call that Realtor, whatever her name was, and get the ball rolling. Before I change my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Audrey asked, sounding a bit bemused.

“Sure as I’ll ever be. And you’d better move on this before I forget I agreed to it.”

That produced quiet laughter around the table. Bree couldn’t be sure, but she was pretty sure CeeCee knew exactly what she’d said. In fact, she thought the familiar twinkle was back in CeeCee’s eyes. Or at least a tiny glimmer of it.

CeeCee seemed to be thinking over the proposal, but maybe she was thinking of reasons why it wouldn’t work. In all the talk about her declining health over the last year or two, Bree had never heard anyone mention this possibility. It must be something Grant and Audrey had just come up with.

“Well! When do you propose this blessed event to happen?” CeeCee finally said.

Bree felt the whole table breathe a collective sigh of relief. CeeCee hadn’t dismissed the idea out of hand, as they’d all obviously expected.

“If you kids will all pitch in”—Grant looked at each of them in turn around the table—“we could probably have CeeCee’s house on the market by September first and we could start building as—”

“Whoa! Whoa now . . . What’s your rush?” CeeCee looked stricken. “And what are you going to do with me if the house sells right away? You can’t get a house—even a cottage as you call it—built before winter. And how would I get to my bridge club? Assuming this little proposal of yours involves relieving me of my car, too.”

“Those are things we can figure out when the time comes, Cecelia.” Audrey’s tone took on the patronizing lilt that sometimes got on Bree’s nerves. And judging by the scowl on CeeCee’s face, it wasn’t going over too well with her either.

“I’m not going anywhere or signing anything, for that matter, until I have your sworn promise that I’ll still have my car and that I will not be shut out of my bridge games. I refuse to be tucked away in some turret like a prisoner. I don’t care how much it might inconvenience the lot of you!”

Good for you, CeeCee! Bree admired the old woman’s spunk. Even while she understood the dilemma this caused the rest of the family.

“We have every intention of making things as comfortable and normal as possible, Mother.” Grant pressed his hands together, steepling his fingers. “We’re not trying to imprison you. We’re trying to be sure you’re safe. When we can get started on the cottage will depend on how soon we can get your house sold and on how much it brings. But Audrey and I have been looking at some nice plans that could probably be built for what your house would bring.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Don’t worry about that. I’ve got money in the bank. If we’re going to build a house, let’s get it built. We can worry about selling the house in Langhorne later.”

Grant frowned. “I’m not sure you understand how much it costs to build a new house these days, Mother.”

“I’m not a complete imbecile. And I’m not sure you understand how much money I have in the bank. Do you think we could build your little cottage for under half a million?”

A few muffled gasps went up around the table, and Link actually gave a whoop.

CeeCee held her chin in the air and glared at Link. “Your grandfather didn’t exactly leave me destitute, you know. Plus”—an ornery gleam shone in her eyes—“I’m no slouch with the stock market. And I win the kitty at bridge at least once a week.”

Audrey looked dubious, but Grant chuckled as if he believed his mother. Although Bree knew CeeCee handled her own finances, surely Grant had some idea of her financial situation.

“I think we could cobble something together for half a million, Mother.”

“Spare no expense, son. I’m worth it.” She stabbed a piece of roast beef and popped it into her mouth.

The table erupted in laughter, and Bree patted CeeCee’s hand. “You are definitely worth it, CeeCee. Every penny.”

Later, while they finished dessert and resumed the comforting rhythms of a Tuesday night at the Whitmans, Bree looked out the windows to the shadowed meadow below the house, where the children were playing now. She could almost picture CeeCee’s little cottage in the clearing. And if Tim’s grandmother eventually had to move into a nursing home, the cottage would be there, a perfect retirement home for Grant and Audrey. Likely one of Tim’s sisters would eventually make the Chicory Inn her home. Maybe even keep it running as an inn after it became too much for Tim’s parents to handle.

It was an ideal solution. And CeeCee had taken it better than anyone expected. Bree fought against the lump of sadness tightening her throat. She felt wrenched between her past and her future. Would she even be coming to the inn, still be a part of this family, by the time the cottage was finished?