The Girl in the Guesthouse

By Pandora Spocks

They say desperate times call for desperate measures.
Charley Weatherly is about to realize that it’s true.

Life isn’t working out exactly the way Charley Weatherly imagined it might when she walked away from her steady paycheck as a copywriter to start her own business. But as it turns out, not everyone in town is knocking down the door of her tiny independent bookshop. She has lost money every quarter since she opened.

Now, with her grandmother in need of more care than Charley can provide, some difficult decisions have to be made. The rest of her 401k plus the proceeds from selling the bookstore might keep Nana in Pacifico Manor for about a year. That would give Charley time to figure out her next move.

But when that money is irretrievably lost, Charley is faced with an impossible decision. Being a gestational surrogate for a couple who can’t have a baby on their own will bring in the kind of cash she needs. Can she really follow through?

Between trying to keep her small business afloat and caring for her grandmother, Charley’s personal life has been nonexistent. But when she moves to the city for a few months, she finds she enjoys the freedom of her part-time gig at Bravo Java. She especially enjoys chatting up the handsome local artist who spends his mornings there. Now that her life is taking an unexpected turn, has she finally met the right man at the wrong time?

Artist Ben Campbell has had his fair share of romantic disasters. For the time being, he’s content to follow his self-imposed schedule: gym, coffee, work, repeat.

But the new barista at his favorite coffee shop piques his interest. In fact, if he’s honest with himself, she looks a lot like the elusive redhead who haunts his dreams.

She seems to be attracted to him, too. So why does Charley insist on keeping him at arm’s length?

Prefer your romance with plenty of heat and tons of heart?
You’ll love The Girl in the Guesthouse!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pandora Spocks
• Release date: Dec 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463196403

Pandora Spocks

Pandora Spocks is a bratty ginger and hopeless romantic who lives her happily ever after in South Florida. Pandora has entertained herself with the stories pinballing around in her head for years. Recently she decided to try her hand at sharing those stories with others. The author of Luke & Bella: Two Streets Over and the Rannigan's Redemption series, she enjoys reading and writing literary erotic fiction. Pandora is currently busy writing her next spicy romance.

Book preview

Chapter 1

(six months earlier)

At the tinkling of the bell over the door of Once Upon a Bookshop, Charley Weatherly looked up from the well-worn Charlotte Brontë novel she’d been perusing behind the counter. The tiny shop was the dream into which she’d poured her heart and soul and most of her 401k.

Hi there, Charley!  Reggie Baxter had been walking the same mail route since before Charley was born.  The space currently occupied by the bookstore had had numerous incarnations during that time, including a bar and a dry cleaner, among other things.

Hi, Reggie!  What’s the good news?  She smiled at the old man.

The good news is, next Friday is my last day.  I’m retiring.

That’s great, Reggie. Congratulations!  Charley accepted the stack of mail he proffered.  What are your plans?

Oh... With a far-off look in his eye, he leaned back on his heels, shifting the mailbag that was slung over his shoulder.  First off, I’m going fishing in Florida.  After that, who knows?

Charley grinned good-naturedly.  Do you really have to go all the way to Florida to go fishing?

The letter carrier shrugged.  Never did like the Pacific too much.  Florida fishing is a lot more relaxing.  California’s too uptight.

Charley had to laugh.  I’ve never been fishing either place, so I’ll have to take your word for it.

Grinning, Reggie opened the door and paused.  How’s your grandmother doing?

Consciously forcing back a grimace, Charley smiled.  She’s doing well, thanks.

Tell her I said hello.

I will, Reggie.  She waved as he walked out the door, headed past the shop's front windows, and passed out of sight.

Enveloped in silence once again, Charley breathed a deep sigh.  Her grandmother hadn’t been doing well for months now.  But that wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.  Talking about things always made them more real somehow.  And she wasn’t ready to face what was happening to her grandmother.

Any more than she was ready to face the stack of bills Reggie had dropped off.  If she flipped through the pile of envelopes, she’d see ‘Final Notice’ stamped across the fronts of most of them.  But that would ignite the ache in the pit of her stomach, so she opted to sweep them into a drawer beneath the counter, the better to deal with them later.

She gazed around the shop, recalling the day three years earlier when she’d first seen the space.  It had sat empty for some time, abandoned when a psychic palm reader had gone out of business. 

But in the empty and crumbling space, Charley had envisioned shelves full of her favorite books.  She’d majored in English literature at Cal State, and following graduation, she’d landed a position as a copywriter with a local marketing firm. 

A job she’d hated.  But it had afforded her to save up enough money to walk away a few years later and start her dream business, a small boutique bookstore.

She’d created a cozy space with a comfortable seating area near the front windows, places for book lovers like herself to relax and try before they buy.  She’d even scheduled live readings and a few book signings, too, all to try to drum up more business.

But unfortunately, downtown Modesto wasn’t exactly a mecca for the literati.  Those who did like to read tended to head to the Barnes & Noble out on Highway 219.  Or to order their books online. 

Which Charley couldn’t fathom.  Walking around the counter, she wandered down the 19th-century romance aisle, dreamily brushing her fingers across the spines of the stories she knew by heart, including a full complement from her namesake Brontë sister, Charlotte. 

How could you tell whether you wanted to read a book without touching it, hefting its weight, flipping the pages to release that divine paper scent? 

And ebooks?  Charley snorted.  Please!  Talk about the Big Macs of the literary world.

Apparently, though, not everyone saw it the way she did.  Foot traffic in the downtown area wasn’t sufficient to bring in the hoards of customers she desperately needed.  She had her regulars, but the reality was that she’d lost money every quarter since she’d been open.  Her savings had gone to the purchase and renovation of the storefront, and now her 401k was seriously depleted. The bills Reggie had brought were all long past due. 

Reluctantly, Charley realized it might be time to let go of her dream.  Nana wasn’t getting any better.  It had started with little things, misplaced reading glasses and socks put away in the refrigerator. Now, there were times when she didn’t recognize Charley, or she mistook Charley for her mother, calling her Denise. 

Gently, Charley would remind her.  No, Nana, remember, Mama died a long time ago. 

The old woman’s face would crumple, and she’d break down in tears.  Why didn’t anyone tell me?

You were there at the funeral, Nana.  Remember?  That’s when I came to live with you.

Oh, yes, that’s right.  You’re Charley, Denise’s girl.

That’s right, Nana.

She was grateful that the next-door neighbor had agreed to check in on her grandmother during the day while Charley was at work.  But that was not a sustainable arrangement.  Charley had done some checking into an assisted living facility with a memory care program.  And while it wasn’t cheap, the portion of her 401k she’d squirreled away, along with Nana’s social security, should be enough to get her in.  But to stay long-term?

She rolled her eyes.  That would require Charley to sell the business and return to work for a company that paid an actual salary and benefits.

Sighing heavily, she turned around and headed back to the counter.  If it stayed quiet for the rest of the day, maybe she’d tweak her resume and upload it to one of those job websites.

BY SIX O’CLOCK, CHARLEY was feeling more optimistic.  She’d had a spate of customers across the afternoon, and she all but convinced herself that things would turn around.  As she turned the key to lock the front door and headed for her ten-year-old Honda parked down the street, her phone rang.

Hello?

Hi, Charley, it’s Vera.

Hi, Vera.  What’s up?

First of all, your grandmother’s okay.

Charley’s heart skipped a beat.  "What do you mean, Nana’s okay?"

The woman on the other end of the phone hesitated.  There was a little fire.  But it’s out now, and like I said, Celeste is fine.

Adrenaline thrummed through Charley’s veins.  "A little fire where, Vera?  What the hell happened?"

She heard her neighbor sigh through the phone.  We think she put a dish towel on the stove.  The paramedics checked her out, and they didn’t even think she needed to go to the hospital.  But the kitchen’s a mess.

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, Charley silently pleaded with the universe.  Please.  Not one more thing.

Swallowing her panic, she forced a smile, hoping the other woman could hear it through the phone.  I’m on my way home now.  I’ll be there in five minutes.

Nana’s small two-bedroom 1920s bungalow was tucked into a neighborhood of neat little homes just like it, only a few miles away from the city center and the book shop.  As Charley pulled up, firefighters were still packing up their equipment.  She saw her grandmother seated on the top step of the front porch, with Vera sitting next to her.  A firefighter was talking to them both.

Nana! Charley called as she rushed up the front sidewalk.

The trio looked in her direction.  Vera looked relieved. 

Celeste had a bandage on her right hand and a lost look in her eye.  Something bad happened today.  Her voice was shaky.

The firefighter took a step toward Charley.

Ma’am, do you live here? he asked.

Charley nodded.  Yes, this is my grandmother.

He pushed his helmet up, away from his forehead.  It was a close call today.  If your neighbor hadn’t stopped by, it could have been a real tragedy.

Wringing her hands, Charley nodded again and looked to Vera.  Thank you so much.  I don’t know what we would have done.

The woman smiled wanly, patting Celeste on her good hand.

The thing is, the firefighter continued, the dwelling isn’t habitable at this point.  Do you folks have somewhere you can stay until you can get it cleaned up?

Shit, she breathed.  There was one emergency credit card that wasn’t maxed out.  Yet.  They’d have to find a hotel room.

She nodded at the firefighter.  Yes, we can find a place until insurance takes care of the repairs.

Okay, that sounds like a plan.  It would probably be okay for you to gather a few things from the bedrooms, as long as you stay away from the kitchen.  And I don’t see any reason for your grandmother to go to the hospital unless you just want her to go get checked out.

Charley shook her head.  She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow anyway.  We’ll make sure they look her over there.

He nodded at her.  Alright.  We’ll get cleaned up and get out of your way.  Good night, ladies.

Thank you for everything, Charley called after him.

Vera gave Celeste a sideways hug and stood.  I’m going on home now.  Where will you stay tonight?

Charley tried not to notice the woman didn’t offer for them to stay with her.  Mentally, she shook herself.  As a neighbor, Vera had gone above and beyond, and had been doing so for a long time.  It was time to face the fact that Nana needed skilled care. 

Turning to Vera, she forced a smile.  We’ll get a room at the Holiday Suites.  Maybe we can get an insurance adjuster out here tomorrow.  We’ll get the kitchen fixed up before you know it.

Okay, hon.  Well, you two take care now.  Celeste, I’ll see you soon.  She turned and headed off across the lawn.

Goodbye.  Celeste waved vaguely at the woman.  She’s a nice lady.

Yes, Nana, she is.  Are you okay?

The older woman held up her bandaged hand.  I hurt my hand.  Something bad happened today.

I know.  Let’s go pack a bag, and we’ll go to a hotel.

As Charley helped her grandmother up from the porch steps, Celeste launched into a story about having gone to a hotel in Havana as a young bride.  They entered the house, and Charley guided her to her bedroom. 

Okay, Nana, get a few things to wear for the next couple of days.  I’ll be back in just a minute.

Satisfied the older woman would stay put, Charley made her way toward the kitchen.  The entire house reeked of smoke, but the odor was overpowering as she neared the back of the house.  Stopping at the doorway, she peered into the tiny kitchen.  The wall behind the stove was black, as was the ceiling above it.  The vintage Formica table in the tiny breakfast nook was pushed all the way against the wall, and the red vinyl upholstery on the back of the chair nearest the stove was melted.

Shaking her head, Charley made her way to her own bedroom, where she retrieved a small suitcase from the top shelf of her closet and proceeded to pack some clothes.  A stop by the bathroom allowed her to gather toiletries not only for herself but also for Nana. 

When she checked on Celeste, the woman was still babbling about a hotel in Cuba.  Nana, where are the clothes you’re taking?

Clothes I’m taking?  Are we going on a trip?

Charley went to the older woman’s closet.  We’re going to a hotel.  We can’t stay here until they repair the fire damage.

There was a fire?  Celeste seemed genuinely perplexed.

Grabbing a handful of her grandmother’s comfortable favorites, she lay them across the bed and returned to the closet for a suitcase.  We’re going to have an adventure.  Won’t that be fun?

Celeste clasped her hands together.  "Oh, I do like adventures."  She grinned happily.

Charley’s smile was tired.  I love you, Nana.

Chapter 2

As soon as Celeste was settled in their double room on the second floor at the Holiday Suites, Charley took her phone onto the walkway outside and called the 24-hour number for the insurance company.  She paced back and forth, keeping an eye on her grandmother through the window as she explained the situation to the agent on call.

Fifteen minutes later, with assurances that an adjuster would be out at the house first thing in the morning, Charley returned to the room.  Celeste sat perched at the end of one of the queen-sized beds, watching the television with rapt attention.

Charley frowned as she saw a slick televangelist, the bright lights of the gaudy set reflecting off a dark pompadour that Elvis would envy.  The man was carrying on about some topic or other in that peculiar cadence TV preachers always seem to have.  As he gestured, she couldn’t help noticing the Rolex on his wrist as it glinted in the light.  Mentally, she rolled her eyes.

It’s been a long day, Nana.  Are you ready for bed?

The older woman turned to her.  Isn’t he a handsome devil? she asked wistfully.

Charley chuckled.  "I think ‘handsome devil’ describes him perfectly."  She picked up the remote and switched off the television.

Crossing to the suitcase, she removed her grandmother’s pink flannel pajamas.  Here, Nana.  She handed Celeste the pajamas.  You can get ready first.

While her grandmother was changing, Charley turned down the covers on the bed closest to the bathroom.  A few minutes later, Celeste came out dressed in her pajamas.

You have a lovely home, she commented.

Forcing a grim smile, Charley took her grandmother’s wadded clothes from her.  Thank you, she said tightly.

She helped Celeste to bed, pulling up the covers and placing a kiss on the old woman’s cheek.  Goodnight, Nana.

She switched the light over the bed and then put her grandmother’s dirty clothes into a small plastic laundry bag emblazoned with the hotel’s logo. 

Celeste seemed to have nodded off to sleep almost instantly.  Still, as a precaution, Charley dragged a heavy chair in front of the door before she headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.  Nana had never left the house in the middle of the night before, but tonight was not the night to start.

Freshly showered, Charley emerged from the bathroom in her own bedtime uniform of pink knit pajama pants and a black camisole.  She added her own smoke-saturated dirty clothes to the laundry bag.  In the bed nearest the bathroom, Celeste snored softly. 

Charley removed a pair of miniature tequila bottles from a side pocket in her own suitcase.  She’d bought them on impulse a few months earlier and put them away for a rainy day. 

Pretty sure it’s raining tonight, she muttered softly to herself.

She turned off the remaining light and opened the drapes.  In the light streaming in from the parking lot, she retrieved a glass from beside the ice bucket, dropping a few cubes into it before emptying the contents of both tequila bottles. 

Glass in hand, she sat at the small table beside the window and gazed out over the motel parking lot. At the bar across the street, a couple emerged from a car and held hands on their way to the entrance.  The man held open the door, and as the woman passed him, he swatted her behind.  She turned and pushed him playfully, and they both laughed as they went inside.

Charley sipped her tequila and sighed deeply.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out on a date.  Who had the time or energy, between keeping the shop afloat and taking care of Nana?

But she had more significant problems than her love life.  Much bigger problems.  The way she figured it, there was enough room on the credit card for three more nights at the hotel.  Hopefully, after the adjuster came in the morning, they’d receive a quick settlement.  Her mind already raced as she considered hiring a contractor to see to the damaged kitchen. 

The bigger problem, though, was what to do about Nana.  Clearly, she couldn’t be left alone.  Charley had the sense that Vera was over it.  And who could blame her?  It was too much to ask a neighbor to do. 

Setting down her glass for the moment, she retrieved her purse from beside the television and dug out the Pacifico Manor brochure Nana’s doctor had handed her at their last visit.  Back at the table, she scanned the photos and information.  It looked like a beautiful place.  The images showed happy senior citizens involved in various activities.  The rooms were bright and looked comfortable. 

But how can I put Nana there, like some unwanted nuisance?

She slugged back half the tequila.  It wasn’t like that.  Nana was no longer safe at home by herself.  And Charley couldn’t be there 24/7.  Someone had to go out and earn money to pay the bills and other obligations. 

She closed her eyes and pictured the bookstore.  As much as she hated to admit it, the bookstore was a constant hemorrhage, financially speaking.  The time had come.  Instead of tapping into the remainder of her 401k to keep the bookstore afloat, that money would have to go to setting up Nana at Pacifico Manor. 

Then she could sell the store and find a regular nine-to-five job, which would pay the bills and supplement what was left of her retirement money to pay for Nana’s care.  Draining the remainder of the tequila, Charley nodded to herself.  We’ll talk to Dr. Agostino at tomorrow’s appointment, she whispered.  And maybe arrange a visit to Pacifico Manor.

EARLY THE FOLLOWING morning, Charley loaded Celeste into the car and drove back to the house where the adjuster from the insurance company met them at precisely 8:00.

Thank you for meeting us early, Charley told the man.

He smiled kindly.  Not a problem.  You have work to attend to, and I’m sure you didn’t count on a kitchen fire.

"No, we did not," Charley laughed humorlessly.

While the agent inspected the kitchen, Celeste stooped to pull a few weeds from the front flower bed.  Charley sighed, watching her, wondering if she would be happy living in a new situation.  Her grandmother had lived in the little cottage for as long as Charley could remember.

Still, she thought, shaking her head, safety is the most crucial consideration.  She was determined to keep that in mind.

Okay, ladies, that about covers it.  The claims adjuster returned outside.  While she hadn’t precisely timed it, Charley couldn’t imagine he’d been inside longer than fifteen minutes.

As if he’d read her mind, he shrugged slightly.  It’s a small house. 

He handed Charley the tablet he’d carried with him.  It’s all outlined here, and I’ve sent it to the printer in the van.  I’ll get you that hard copy.  Would you like it sent to the email account we have on file as well?

Yes, please, Charley nodded.

Although the bulk of the damage is in the kitchen, you’ll notice that I’ve included consideration for smoke mitigation.  You’ll need professionals to handle the smoke damage that occurred outside of the kitchen.

Leaving Celeste to her weeding, Charley followed the man to his van.  Here you are, he said, handing her a copy of the form she’d seen on the tablet.  And here’s your check.

Charley’s eyes widened.  Just like that?

The man smiled kindly.  We know you’re anxious to get your life back in order.  You might even be able to find a contractor who can start today.

She shook her head and breathed a sigh of relief.  If they couldn't get someone to start repairing the damage today, at least they had enough money for the hotel.  Thank you very much.  She nodded toward the house.  This whole thing was just a surreal nightmare.

I’m sorry for your trouble.  If State Mutual can be of any more help, don’t hesitate to let us know.

Thank you.  Thank you so much.

Charley stepped back as the man climbed into his van and backed out of the driveway.

Who was that nice man?  Celeste had wandered away from her flowers.

Charley wrapped an arm around the older woman’s thin waist.  That was the man from the insurance company.  We can get the kitchen fixed now.

Celeste frowned.  What’s wrong with the kitchen?

Sighing deeply, Charley kissed her grandmother.  Come on, Nana.  Let’s get some breakfast before we go to your doctor’s appointment.

CELESTE, HOW ARE YOU today?

Giggling like a schoolgirl, she batted her eyes at the doctor.  I’m just fine, thank you.

Mentally, Charley shook her head.  Dr. Watkins was a handsome older man, probably just shy of sixty, if she didn’t miss her guess.  What some would call a ‘silver fox,’ Charley supposed.  She watched as the doctor shifted his mustache in amusement.

What happened to your hand?

Frowning, Celeste looked down at her bandaged hand as though seeing it for the first time.  I don’t know.  She looked to Charley.  What happened to my hand?

Charley took a deep, steadying breath.  You got a little burn in the fire yesterday.

Dr. Agostino smiled at her reassuringly, then focused on removing the bandage and checking on Nana’s burn.  After that, he assessed her vitals and tapped in a few notes on his tablet.  All the while, he spoke calmly, engaging Celeste in casual conversation. 

When he’d finished, he spoke to her, but his eyes were on Charley.  Okay, Celeste, everything looks fine.  I’ll have my nurse come in and bandage up your hand again.  Maybe your granddaughter can wait in my office?

Charley nodded, happy to have a chance to speak with him privately.

The nurse came in, and Dr. Agostino held the door allowing Charley to enter the hallway.  Together, they walked down the hall to his office.  While he sank into his big leather desk chair, Charley perched on one of a pair of chairs across from him.

The man smiled at her reassuringly.  So, how do you feel your grandmother is doing?

Dutifully, Charley recounted the events of the previous twenty-four hours, including the fact that Celeste didn’t remember the fire from the day before.

Dr. Agostino nodded thoughtfully.  Have you given any thought to what we discussed last time?

The memory care unit at Pacifico Manor?  Charley cleared her throat, attempting to dislodge the lump there.  Yes, I have.  Especially since yesterday.

The burn is minor, really, the doctor said, but you can see how it could have been so much worse.

Charley nodded wordlessly, swiping at a rogue tear that rolled down her cheek.

"It really is a nice place.  They take excellent care of the residents.  I’m there every day to check on my patients."

I just...  She had to clear her throat again.  I just don’t want her to feel like I’m giving up on her.

Dr. Agostino smiled sympathetically.  "She won’t feel that way.  At the risk of being blunt, she won’t remember enough to feel that way.  Dementia is a hell of a thing.  A house fire is a traumatic event, but Celeste doesn’t even remember how she hurt her hand."

By now, tears were rolling down Charley’s face.  The doctor slid a box of tissues across his desk, and she pulled out several, dabbing at her cheeks.

On the upside, he leaned forward on his elbows, "and there is one, she’s happy in the moment.  The staff at Pacifico are stellar at creating happy moments for the residents.  And your grandmother will be safe there.  You won’t have to watch her like a hawk or sit at work and wonder whether she’s alright."

He watched her thoughtfully for a moment.  Caregiving is a tough thing.  The kicker is, you can never get it right; you can only get it wrong.  And while you wear yourself out, the eventuality is the same.  You can’t stop the progression.

It’s so awful, Charley choked.

It is.  You’re right.  But you can’t beat yourself up.  No one person can do this alone.

Charley considered his words for a moment.  Is there any way to take Nana there for a visit, see if she likes it?

He smiled kindly.  Of course.  And Celeste can participate in some of the activities while you chat with the staff.  Their goal is to make sure that you feel confident in the care they provide.  Would you like my office to set up the appointment?

Charley nodded.  Yes, please, I’d really appreciate it.

MUCH LATER, AFTER SPENDING the remainder of the day at the bookstore and snagging dinner at Denny's, Celeste sat propped up in bed watching the same televangelist from the previous night.  In her seat at the table by the window, Charley’s thoughts were on the discussion she’d had with Dr. Agostino. 

Following their conversation, she felt better about making Nana's plans.  By the time they’d left the office, they had an appointment at Pacifico Manor for the following day.

She had also managed to find a contractor who came highly recommended in the neighborhood Facebook group.  Early tomorrow morning, he would be stopping by the house to look over the damage and give her an estimate.  In the back of her mind, she thought she might be able to save money by doing some of the work herself. 

Celeste interrupted her thoughts.  I wish we could send that poor man some money.

Frowning, Charley looked at her grandmother.  What poor man, Nana?

The old woman gestured toward the television, where Pastor Pompadour peered into the camera with what looked like actual tears in his eyes.

Charley snorted.  If he needs money, maybe he could sell the Rolex.

God told him he needs to buy a new jet, Celeste reported.

Ha! Charley barked.  "I’ll just bet he did."

Celeste raised a white eyebrow.  "Well, the Lord does work in mysterious ways."

Yes, he does.  Charley crossed to the desk, where she used the remote to turn off the television.  Let’s get some sleep, Nana. Tomorrow is a new adventure.

Chapter 3

Come on, Celeste, you can sit by me.

Charley watched as an elderly woman dressed in a pink tracksuit took her grandmother by the hand and led her to a circle of chairs.  Most of the seats were taken, but the pair found two together and, they sat just as the music therapist began playing a Cole Porter song on an electronic keyboard.

Mary is our unofficial greeter.  She’s never met a stranger. 

Charley looked at Ruth Allen, the Pacifico Manor resident coordinator.  If Charley had to guess, she’d figure the pleasant blonde woman to be in her early forties.  It’s very nice of her to be so sweet to Nana.

Mary’s a nice lady.  Would you like to come to my office?  The music class will go for an hour.

Charley nodded, looking back across the room to Nana, who was grinning ear to ear while belting out the chorus of Anything Goes.

She followed Ruth down the wide corridor to a large office.  A bank of windows looked out onto a beautifully landscaped courtyard where a half-dozen senior citizens either stood or sat at easels, painting their interpretations of a well-tended flower garden.

Can I get you some coffee?  Or tea? Ms. Allen offered.

Charley turned away from the window, smiling tightly.  No, thank you.  I’m fine.

The woman gestured to a seating area across the room from her enormous oak desk.  Sometimes we have large family groups who visit, she said somewhat apologetically.

Charley sank onto the overstuffed blue brocade sofa.  It’s just Nana and me.

Ruth sat opposite Charley in a coordinating wingback chair, a clipboard resting on her lap.  Her smile was sympathetic.  It’s never an easy decision, choosing the right time and place when our loved ones need more help than we can give.

Charley steeled herself, determined not to give in to her threatened tears.  Deliberately, she swallowed, attempting to force back the lump in her throat.  I love my grandmother.  She’s always been there for me.  Her gaze strayed back to the group