Grant threw Audrey a desperate look.
She stepped in with a strained smile. “Cecelia, why don’t we eat first, and then we can talk.”
“And you think I’d enjoy one morsel of food knowing you’re all going to pounce on me after dinner?” She turned to Bree. “I think you can just take me home, Miss Bree. It’s clear I’m persona non grata here.”
“CeeCee . . .” Not having a clue what was expected of her, Bree shot Audrey the same look of desperation Grant had.
He came to the rescue. “Why don’t we fill our plates, and we can all talk over dinner. Is that okay with you, Mother?”
“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” she huffed.
Bree felt the woman’s icy stare, but she didn’t dare let her gaze connect with CeeCee’s. For the first time in her life, she considered this might have been a good time to not be a Whitman. “Maybe I should go downstairs and watch the kids while you guys talk,” she squeaked.
“No, Bree. We want you here.” Grant’s unspoken message—you’re part of this family—was clear. And there’d been a time it would have warmed her heart. But right now it felt like a noose. Not just because it put her in an awkward position with CeeCee. But because it made her feel like a traitor, knowing that she might very soon be backing away from this family.
Even letting that thought form in such a concrete way made her feel queasy. But didn’t that fact say something about how she felt about Aaron? She’d been struggling to figure out her conflicting feelings where he was concerned.
They’d had a wonderful time on their date Saturday night, and he’d asked her out again for the coming weekend. He hadn’t tried to kiss her yet, or even to hold her hand. It endeared him to her all the more that he was taking it nice and slow. But things had definitely moved beyond mere friendship and in the direction of romance. She caught herself smiling and quickly sobered, hoping no one noticed.
Audrey tilted her head and gave her a questioning look, but just then Grant called for everyone to bow their heads while he blessed the food.
He’d barely said “amen” before Sadie appeared at the top of the stairs. “Simone spilled her milk.”
Corinne started for the steps, but Jesse stopped her.
“I’ll take care of it.” He looked mighty glad for an excuse to leave the room.
“I’ll dish your plate up, babe,” she called after him.
They all migrated to the island where the food was laid out buffet style. The adults filled their plates in relative silence, then congregated around the table in the great room, each taking their unofficial “regular” places. Grant and Audrey at the head and foot of the table, CeeCee at Grant’s right hand, Bree on the other side of CeeCee, and the couples paired off around the table.
But the laughter and teasing that usually graced these Tuesday night suppers had been replaced with an awkward politeness and whispered niceties more suited to a dinner party where no one knew anyone else.
CeeCee plopped into her chair near Grant at the foot of the table. Reluctantly, Bree took her own usual place on the other side of the older woman, feeling like she was the one in the hot seat.
But CeeCee ignored her and spread a paper napkin over her lap before looking up to glare at Grant. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
Grant exchanged a look with Audrey, then cleared his throat. “Okay. As you know, Mother, Audrey and I just don’t feel comfortable with you living on your own. It will be cold and miserable before you know it, and we really don’t want to have to go through another winter worrying about whether you’ve slipped on the ice or that your furnace has gone out or—”
CeeCee held up a silencing hand. “I see your strategy and I don’t appreciate it. Trying to make me feel guilty about causing you such hardship.” She gave a little harrumph.
Bree had to agree with CeeCee. She was a little surprised Grant had taken that tack, but then he’d known CeeCee far longer than she had. Maybe there was a method to his madness.
Audrey cleared her throat. “Our goal isn’t to make you feel guilty, Cecelia. We just want you to be safe. And with the inn, and our own kids and grandkids, we simply don’t have time to check on you every day to make sure—”
“No one is asking you to check on me every day.” CeeCee glared at Audrey and straightened in her chair, looking queenly. “Besides, Landyn lives just a few blocks away and she checks on me too. It’s not just you, you know.”
Landyn opened her mouth to say something, but Grant jumped in first. “Landyn has two little girls to chase after. And besides that, she’s traveling more and more with Chase. It’s not fair for her to have the extra responsibility. And if anything happened to you and none of us had checked on you for a few days, we’d never forgive ourselves.”
“Cut to the chase!” CeeCee waved her napkin like a white flag. “What is it you want me to do? And if I hear the words ‘nursing’ or ‘home’ I’ll be out of here so fast your heads will all spin.”
Bree wasn’t the only one who had to stifle a giggle at that. She wondered just where CeeCee thought she would go if she had to get “out of here” fast. Bree sure wasn’t going to drive her under such circumstances, and it was a long walk back to Langhorne.
Again, Grant exchanged a look with Audrey. “Believe me, we have no intention of uttering those words. On the contrary, we have a proposal to make, Mother.” He scooted back his chair and turned to look out the windows that overlooked the property. “There’s plenty of acreage out here. If we sold your house in town, we could use the proceeds to build a small cottage—a home for you—down in the meadow. If you lived right here we could be sure you were comfortable.”
Audrey took up the cause. “Grant and I have talked for a long time about building a guest house out there.” She pointed toward the meadow. “Originally, we were thinking we’d eventually move out there. The thing is, it’s not in the budget at all right now for us—even if we did most of the work. But if we built it for you, Cecelia, you could sell your house to fund the cottage . . . live there instead of going into assisted living. We could even—”
“Who said anything about assisted living?” CeeCee’s glare turned into daggers aimed at her daughter-in-law.
“What I meant was . . .” Audrey cleared her throat, backpedaling. “We could add a guest room and bath for a live-in nurse or aide—”
“Only if you ever needed one, Mother,” Grant said quickly.
Bree hid a grin. Audrey was treading on dangerous ground. Bree had been in this family long enough to know that CeeCee did not take kindly to the thought of being dependent upon anyone.
CeeCee turned to Grant, narrowing her eyes. “And then when I’m gone, I suppose you and Audrey would move into this cottage?”
“We might. Who knows”—Grant patted CeeCee’s knee under the table—“by the time you’re gone, we may both be in the nursing home.”
CeeCee looked at him over her glasses. “That sort of humor does not become you, son.”
“I wasn’t exactly joking, Mother.”
She snorted. “Oh, go on. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know. But I think this is probably a good plan. You just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
The Whitman kids—and even the in-laws—exchanged wide-eyed looks. These were not words they often heard from their grandmother.
Audrey leaned in. “Cecelia, we don’t want you to feel like we badgered you into anything. We want you to be on board with any decisions that affect you.”
“I