“Ha ha,” I retorted sarcastically. “I've tried that. I figured if anyone's passing through and falls in love with the quaint charm you lovely Granger women offer, they'll know there's a place to make their stay permanent right down the street.”
She ignored the sarcastic jab. “What makes you want to rent it out now?”
I cleared my throat to buy time to make up an excuse. I wasn’t even sure why. It was a valid question, given I'd owned the house for two decades now and hadn't rented that space since I paid the loan off. Blaire was innocent enough, and she wasn’t the type to gossip. But I liked to keep my personal life and my professional life completely separate. As sheriff of the town, the lines between the two often got blurred.
“Millie has her hands full with the kids and Ma’s health isn’t doing too good anymore. I’d like to get a nurse in there to help out and the cost is astronomical.” The truth was easier than I thought.
A better man would give his sister a break and take his mother in himself.
But I wasn’t a better man.
Millie didn’t want to admit it, but Ma’s mind was slipping with each passing day. She needed someone who knew how to handle that sort of thing. After I got over my need for space, renting out the loft was a no-brainer.
Blaire just nodded without bothering me for clarification or questioning me, as she would have done in the past. She was known around Beacon Grove as someone who questioned everything to death, but I supposed the last year changed something in all of us.
The door leading to Tabitha's house swung open, and she stood beside it, lifting her brows at me impatiently.
“I have other things to do today, sheriff,” her raspy voice said, and I reconsidered that last thought.
Maybe not all of us changed that much.