Her father glanced around and sighed. “I guess I’m not as good as your mother was at keeping things organized.”
“Why don’t you sit over there at the counter and we can talk while I straighten up?” Grace started in on emptying the clean dishes from the dishwasher. “When did you eat last?”
“I think I had some cold cereal for breakfast.”
“You think?” No matter. It was already after lunchtime. She opened the cupboard and found some soup. It was better than nothing. “You hungry?” She showed him the can.
“Now that you mention it, I could do with a little something, but I can do that.” He opened the can, dumped the contents in the bowl, and set it in the microwave, dribbling broth everywhere.
“Sit down, Dad. I’ll get it for you when it’s done.”
“What about you?” he said, sitting with his hands in his lap. “You going to join me?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“So you got in yesterday. All settled?”
“Pretty much.”
“Caught up with any old friends, yet?”
“No, and I’m not sure I have much of an interest.”
“We’ve had a lot a new folks moving to the island in the past couple years. I think there’s a group about your age.”
Lovely.
“Some good people in that mix. Some…not so much.”
That was about as negative as her father ever got when it came to assessing people. If he didn’t like someone, chances were you’d never know it.
“So in which group is Sean Griffin?”
“Sean? Have you met him?”
“Yesterday. I’m boarding my horse at his stables. He was a bit…abrupt.”
Her father chuckled. “Yep, that’s Sean. Impatient. I’m not sure he’s entirely adjusted to the pace on Mirabelle.”
“Where’s he from?”
“Your neck of the woods, I think. L.A.”
What in the world had brought him here of all places?
They continued chatting about nothing of consequence while she finished putting away the clean dishes and then began piling the dirty ones into the dishwasher. When the microwave dinged, she set the hot soup in front of her dad and picked up the kitchen. By the time she’d finished, the dishwasher was full again, but at least the counters were clean.
She went through the mail, recycling all the junk and setting the bills and other correspondence in one neat pile. “This is the important stuff,” she said, making sure he was paying attention. “So you need to go through this soon, okay?”
He nodded. “All right, dear.”
Nearing the bottom of the stack, she ran across a recent photo of her mom and dad. They were sitting at a table, his arm was around her shoulder and their heads were tilted toward each other. It was rare to see Jean Andersen smile so widely.
“That was taken the night before she died,” her dad said as he came to stand next to her. “We were playing cards at the Engebretsons’ town house, and she’d just won a game of hearts by shooting the moon in the last hand.”
Meaning she’d just forced twenty-six points onto all of her other teammates. Not an easy thing to do. God, it’d been a long time since Grace had played cards.
“It was a good night.” He ran the tip of his index finger over the photo.
She glanced at him and his melancholy expression clawed at her heart. How could her father have so loved a woman with whom Grace had never really gotten along? It just didn’t make sense. “It’ll get easier, Dad.”
He smiled wryly. “You know how many times I’ve said that exact thing to other people looking to their pastor for advice?” He shook his head. “It’s hogwash.” He sighed. “I still wake up every morning expecting to see her lying next to me.”
The phone rang, piercing the sudden quiet.
She answered. “Andersen residence.”
“Well, I’ll be darned. This little Gracie?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling with the realization that this man’s voice sounded familiar. “This Doc Welinski?”
He chuckled. “That it is.”
“How have you been, Doc?”
“I’ve been great,” he said, pausing. “So sorry about your mom.”
“Thank you.”
They chatted for a few minutes about her plans. “Enough of that,” Grace said finally. “I imagine you wanted to talk with Dad.”
“That I do. Need to get that man moving again. Thought maybe a round of golf might do a world of good.”
“Sounds like a great idea.” She handed the phone to her father. “It’s Doc Welinski.”
“Willard? What’s up?”
Grace put her father’s lunch dishes in the dishwasher.
“No, no,” her father said. “Not this afternoon. I’m too tired.” Her father paused, presumably while Doc talked. “I know, I know. I’ll get there. Just not today.” Another pause. “Thanks for the offer.” He hung up the phone.
“I think it would do you some good, Dad,” Grace said gently. “To get out a bit.”
“Next week.” He patted her cheek. “It’s good to have you home, Grace.”
“It’s good to be home, Dad.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“SEE YOU TWO IN THE MORNING.” Sean walked through his clinic waiting room after his last appointment of the day.
“Have a good afternoon, Doctor,” replied Donna, his office manager.
“See you later, Dr. Griffin,” his nurse, Kelly, said, smiling.
No matter how many times he asked them, he couldn’t get those two to refer to him as Sean. Donna, a stout woman in her late fifties, had insisted it wasn’t proper in a medical clinic to call the doctor anything except doctor, and Kelly, a pretty young—too young for Sean—redhead who’d moved to Mirabelle only last summer, wasn’t about to cross Donna no matter how much she wanted to flirt with Sean.
Sean left the clinic and headed toward home. Although being the only physician on the island also meant being on call 24/7, limiting his clinic hours to mornings during the summer tourist season left him afternoons and evenings for his new business venture.
He reached the top of Mirabelle’s hill and headed straight through the residential section toward the outer edge of town. After walking through the main gate to his property, Sean nodded at Eric, his stable manager who, along with a couple other wranglers, was taking a group of tourists out on trail ride through Mirabelle’s state park land.
“Everything going okay?” Sean asked, stepping onto his front porch.
“Yes, sir,” Eric answered. “Had two full groups this morning and have another two scheduled this afternoon.”
“Great.” As the line of horses left the main