‘I know, that’s fine.’
‘And Poppy’s here at the moment, so I’ll make a few plans and such, but I won’t start the work properly until she’s headed back to school.’
‘Understood.’
‘What’s our budget? You want me to rustle up an estimate of costs before I rip anything out?’
‘If you would, my lamb. I know I like to swan about as though I make every decision, but the committee approves expenditure.’
He eyed her a moment. ‘You’re being awfully agreeable in this negotiation, Marigold Jones. Am I missing something? Have you another dastardly plan up your sleeve?’
She chuckled. ‘You know me so well, Josh. But in this case, no, I’m not about to spring another surprise in your direction. I’m just so happy we’re both getting what we want. Isn’t that a great feeling?’
He took a breath. ‘When I’ve got all I want, I’ll let you know.’
CHAPTER
12
‘Ms De Rossi, can I have a word?’
Vera dropped her eyes to the woman’s name tag. ‘Nurse Boas, of course.’
‘Call me Wendy. We haven’t met yet; I see from your aunt’s file you often pop in to Connolly House during the afternoon shift after I’ve left.’
‘I run a café in Hanrahan. Mornings can be a little busy.’
‘So I hear! My daughter keeps telling me how lovely The Billy Button is. I’m looking forward to visiting.’
‘That’s very kind of her so say so. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes … and no.’
Alarm rendered her vocal cords useless for a moment. ‘Please, tell me what’s wrong.’
‘Your aunt has been a little out of sorts during the night.’
‘Unwell?’
The nurse grimaced. ‘Cranky would be a better word.’
‘Jill? She’s never cranky.’
‘It’s certainly the first time we’ve noticed it. It is not unusual for dementia patients to become agitated, so perhaps we’re just seeing some progression. When you’re with your aunt, you may notice something we haven’t that might be causing her distress. A sore tooth, a cramping toe, her hair parted on the wrong side … perhaps we’ve missed something.’
‘That’s … very thoughtful, Wendy. Thank you for letting me know.’
‘Any time.’ The nurse gestured to the waxed box Vera held in her hands. ‘Is that something from the café you’ve brought with you?’
‘Date scones. I use a lot of Jill’s recipes, and this is one of hers.’
‘Now who’s been thoughtful? You enjoy your visit,’ said the nurse.
Her aunt’s voice, when she greeted her, was stronger than she’d heard it in weeks.
‘Barb? Is that you? You’re terribly late and I’ve been cross with you forhours.’
Strong, but still confused. ‘No, my love, it’s Vera,’ she said, resting her hand on paper-thin skin. ‘I’ve brought you a scone for morning tea—the one with dates. Your favourite.’