Truthfully, her grandmother looked as if a strong wind would blow heraway. She’d lost weight she could ill afford to lose. Her face, filled with eighty-fiveyears of lines and wrinkles, was sallow. Losing her only child, Hannah’s mother, hadtaken a lot out of her. Her friends in town had called Hannah to let her know that Jennyhad rarely left the house since the funeral. She’d been skipping the meetings of herquilting circle and, more telling, Sunday services at church. They were worried abouther.
“She’s just going to fade away, die of a broken heart all alone, if youask me,” Rachel Morrison had said when she’d called.
Hannah hadn’t missed the critical note in Rachel’s voice, theunmistakable hint that Hannah had been irresponsible to run off right after her mother’sburial and leave her grandmother to cope with her grief and Seaview Inn all on herown.
Though her family knew what she was struggling with, Hannah had beenunwilling to share her own cancer crisis with any of these well-meaning neighbors. She’dbeen unable to defend her actions in any way that might have satisfied them. How couldshe possibly tell them that seeing her mom’s quick decline and painful death while inthe middle of her own treatment had left her terrified? She hadn’t been able to get awayfrom Seaview and the memories of her mother’s final days fast enough. She believed thata positive attitude was an essential ingredient for surviving cancer, but it was almostimpossible to maintain that attitude in the face of her mother’s death from a recurrencethat had come less than two years after she’d first been diagnosed.
So, instead of explaining, Hannah had succumbed to guilt and dutifullytaken the remaining two weeks of leave she’d accumulated during years of ignoringvacation time and socking away sick days to come here. That two weeks was all that wasleft after the time taken for her mastectomy and then the chemo, which had knocked herfor a loop despite her stubborn determination to pretend she was just fine. Her boss hadgrudgingly agreed to let her off, but he’d made it plain he wasn’t one bit happy aboutthe timing.
In less than twenty-four hours, she’d flown back to Florida, rented acar, driven for an hour, and then taken a ferry out to Seaview Key, a tiny islandcommunity of less than a thousand full-time residents just off Florida’s west coast.Once there, she’d had to deal with traffic jams caused by winter tourists. All of which,given her current frame of mind, was trying, to say the least.
Worse, she had exactly fourteen days to convince her grandmother tosell the inn—which was also the family’s longtime home—and move into a retirementcommunity where she’d be well cared for. Since Grandma Jenny’s parents had openedSeaview Inn when the island had been little more than a fishing village reached by boat,Hannah had a hunch her work was cut out for her. Her grandmother sometimes exhibited atenacious streak of sentimentality that overrode common sense.
“I know it’s only four o’clock, but we’ll eat supper now,” GrandmaJenny declared. “I missed lunch and I’m hungry. You can unpack your things later.” Sheglanced at the suitcase Hannah had left at the bottom of the staircase that led up tothe family’s private quarters on the left and to the sprawling wing of guest rooms onthe right. “Didn’t bring much, did you? You having the rest of your things sent?”
Hannah stared at her blankly. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re moving home, of course.” Jenny’s tone wasmatter-of-fact. “I’ve told everyone in town who’s been asking that we’d have the inn upand running again in another week or two, a month at the outside. While your mother wassick, we let a few things slide, but with the two of us working that should give usenough time to get things shipshape, don’t you think so? There’s still a couple of goodmonths of the winter season left, and we’ll draw some folks from the mainland in Apriland May. Of course, a lot of our regulars had to make other arrangements, but they’ll beback with us next year, I’m sure.”
There were so many things wrong with her grandmother’s assumptions,Hannah couldn’t decide where to start. It didn’t matter, anyway, because Grandma Jennyhadn’t waited for a reply. She was already heading toward the kitchen at a clip thatbelied the reported evidence of her declining health. In fact, Hannah very muchsuspected that Grandma Jenny would outlive her and do it with gusto.
* * *
All during their early supper of broiled snapper and fresh tomatoes andstrawberries from the local farmer’s market, Grandma Jenny continued to bombard Hannahwith her plans for reopening Seaview Inn as quickly as possible. She was as alert andstrong-willed as ever.
“You can put that PR experience of yours to good use,” she told Hannah.“Get some ads running up north. A lot of our regulars in Ohio and Michigan who comelater in the season need to know our doors are open again. Maybe you can even dosomething on the Internet. I hear that’s the best place to advertise these days. Or wecan send postcards. I have the addresses for most of the customers who’ve stayed here inthe past few years. Had ’em back to the beginning, but I figure those people are mostlydead and gone. What do you think?”
Hannah put down her fork and tried to find the right words to tell hergrandmother that instead of spending time and money on advertising, they needed to bethinking about finding a good real estate agent. Then it occurred to her that a littlerenovating would give the place the kind of curb appeal needed to result in a quickersale. Maybe she didn’t have to discuss selling it just yet. She could wage that battleanother day, when she wasn’t quite so exhausted.
“I’ll think about it,” she said at last. “First thing tomorrow, you andI can take a look and see what needs to be done, okay?”
“Why wait?” Gran said, bouncing up, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.“Daylight might be
