Page 4 of Heart to Heart

“I’m not here to make soup for the boys. I’m here for you. I have to talk to you. Sit down.”

I plopped hard onto a barstool. Where were those little turds with the white zin? I knew I was going to need a drink after this; I could feel it in the air. “Tell me you don’t have cancer. Is it mom? Auntie Delphine? What’s happening?”

“Slow your roll, Holly,” she muttered as she diced an onion. “It’s nothing bad, I swear. Take a chill pill while I gather my thoughts. I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay . . .” Gram was fond of shock value and the improper use of outdated slang. Therefore, I had no idea where she was headed with this conversation.

“You remember how Grandpa and I ran that bed and breakfast before he passed?”

“Yeah . . .” After retiring from their respective careers—Gram as a nurse and Grandpa as an attorney—they opened a small bed and breakfast in town. It was in an old Victorian house near the railroad tracks. When Grandpa died about ten years ago, Gram had shut the place down and fully retired.

“Well, I’m bored. Retirement is getting old, all my soap operas have been cancelled, and I’m sick of being stuck at home. I want to open it back up.”

“That’s great! I used to love hanging out there.” It was a stately old home with a big backyard. As a kid, I had loved to run through the gardens. Gram’s thumb was as green as mine. She’d had things like a huge herb garden, roses growing on trellises, and tons of different wildflowers to attract butterflies and hummingbirds. You name it and she had grown it.

“Good. I was hoping you’d say that. I want to open an apothecary store just like on my favorite program. I wanted to call it Rose Apothecary, but my attorney said it was too close to the show and apparently, I could be sued for that.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I’ll name it Rosemary Apothecary after my given name. Boring, but I’ll live. You know they named the street after me, right? Rosemary Street, after the Rosemary Inn. Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?” She sighed, caught up in her memories.

“I remember you telling me about that when I was little.” I smiled. “And I love it! What a great idea. Good for you, Gram.”

“I was hoping you’d say that too, because you’re going to run it for me. We’ll be partners. I’ll be a silent partner and you’ll be the boss. We’ll split everything eighty-twenty in your favor until my investment is earned out. And we’ll sell all the wonderful things you make. The oils and lotions, the sweet little soaps and cute sachets of lavender and whatever else you put in them. Oh! And the tea blends. All of it is wonderful and amazing and people are going to go nuts for it—”

My head whipped to hers, my jaw dropped, and I gaped at her for a minute before finally finding the words to speak. “Wait. Stop. Hold on a second. I can’t. I don’t have the skill set for such a thing. I was basically a fancy drifter for the last few years, and I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. I just can’t. Gram, you should ask someone else. Someone responsible and probably with a college degree or something useful to offer you—"

“Stop it,” she bit out. “Don’t you dare talk about my wonderful granddaughter like that.” I couldn’t help it—my eyes filled with tears. “I have lived vicariously through your travels, honey. You’re a talented photographer and a witty writer. You have natural gift for so many things, not to mention a sparkling and hilarious personality I would like to exploit. And who is running Violet’s shop right now so she can take it easy for her pregnancy? Hmm?”

“Well, none of that will pay the bills in this town, unfortunately. And I’m only part-time at the shop. Everyone knows Vi is still in charge.”

She reached for a bottle sitting on the back of the sink and brandished it at me like a weapon. “Listen here, missy. Who made this soap?”

I looked away.

“And who gave me the tea that helps me sleep every night?” I bit my lip and scrunched my eyes shut. “That she blended herself, I might add. Not to mention the lip balms and lotions and that gorgeous perfume I have on my vanity at home. And the hand-knitted blanket on my bed and my aromatherapy pillow. I could go on, but you get the picture now, don’t you?”

“Uh . . .”

“Look at me, sugar pie.” I looked. We didn’t tell our Gram no. She was the walking, talking personification ofthough she be but little she is fierce.

“You have skills. You are a smart woman. You traveled the world, and you learned a lot of its secrets, didn’t you? I am going to put you in business. You can move into the top two floors of the house. It’s a done deal. I don’t want any lip out of you, little miss.”

“What do you mean a done deal? What have you done, Gram?”

“I hired Luke to fix the place up. He’ll make any needed repairs and renovate the ground floor so we can turn it into a store. He’s giving us the family discount.” My brother-in-law, Luke, owned a construction company. McCabe Construction was the biggest one in the area. His father passed away while he was in the Army, and he’d taken over after his return to Sweetbriar. “Anyhoo, work will start as soon as Luke gets it on his schedule. Better get ready,” she informed me with a light shrug.

“What?” I breathed. “This is too much. I think I need to lie down for a second.” I stood and headed for the couch. The fetal position sounded good, and I pulled a throw blanket over my face for good measure as I curled into a ball. “I can’t do this, Gram,” I mumbled through the fabric as I counted backward from ten, then twenty, then thirty, to try to get a handle on my racing thoughts.

“Stop being silly and get back in here. We have soup to finish and plans to make. We’ll meet with Luke soon to go over everything. We’ll go out to lunch and sign papers after they’re drawn up.”

“Papers?”

“Yep. Luke will handle everything for us, things like building and business permits and what have you. All we have to do is tell him what we want, and he’ll take care of it with his company.” She waved a hand in the air. “But here’s the fun part—I’m giving you half ownership of the building and leaving my share to you after I die. With a few stipulations, of course. But those won’t be necessary.”

“Stipulations?”

“Yeah, like I can revoke your ownership if you start running wild, or take up a drug habit, or join a cult, or something else wacky. I can’t leave part of my legacy to a nutjob, of course, so don’t go getting weird on me,” she muttered as she puttered around the kitchen, stirring the beef browning in the pot, then adding the onions.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, well, that makes sense.”

“But you’re not that kind of person so it will be fine. My attorney is just a smidge overprotective.”

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