Page 69 of The Roommate Problem
“Oh, pish posh.” She waved a hand in the air. “I had my appendix taken out when your father was just a baby and was flat on my back for weeks. That was an ordeal. Surgery has advanced so much since then; it’s amazing. I can’t believe I’m home right now and feeling fit as a fiddle.”
“Gran.”
“Fine, fit as a ukulele. A good one, not the cheap toys they sell in tourist shops. But the point is that I’m okay, and I think we need to talk about this.”
“You just want to talk now because you know I’ll take it easy on you since you just had surgery.”
She laughed, wincing slightly and pressing a hand to her abdomen. “Oooh, maybe try not to make me laugh too much. There’s a slight twinge that the drugs haven’t quite taken care of.”
He jumped up from the bed, careful not to jostle her too much. “Do you need anything? Water? A hot pad? More pillows?”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Auggie. Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.” She lifted a hand, beckoning him to sit back down. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you. You’re such a fretter. If I had told you about the procedure, you would have been fussing over me like a mother hen for weeks. Remember I’m the grandmother. It’s my job to fuss.”
He gently sat back down, taking his grandmother’s hand in his. Her palms and fingertips were rough from so many years working with flowers. They were pretty plants, but many had sharp prickles, stabbing thorns, hidden hurts among their beauty.
“Gran, you’re my family, and family worries. I should have been there for you.”
“You’re always there for me, August.” She smiled, lifting her other hand to pat his cheek. “You always have been, whenever I needed you.”
And she’d been there for him just the same. “So you’re really okay? Everything went fine?”
“Better than fine. The doctor zipped in, grabbed that gallbladder, and zipped back out. She said I have to watch the fatty foods from here on out, but the surgery was quick and successful.”
She explained to him about her issues over the years with gallstones and changing her diet to try and prevent the surgery. He had no idea. What kind of a self-absorbed ass was he that his grandmother had been dealing with a health issue and he hadn’t even known? Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault. Gran was very good at keeping things under wraps, obviously. Still, he should have sensed something. She had called a while back to ask him for some of his recipes. He’d assumed she was just trying to eat healthier, not change her diet for a medical condition.
“Now,” she said when she was done explaining, “since Mo didn’t spill the beans, tell me how you found out.”
At the mention of Moira’s name again, anger and pain churned in his gut. He’d been so angry with her when he found the loan paperwork, but when he found out she’d also kept Gran’s surgery from him…he’d never felt so wrecked. She’d taken his trust, something he didn’t give out lightly, and decimated it. Ripped it to shreds along with the heart he was starting to release from behind the wall that had kept it so protected for years. No longer. He was bricking that sucker back up and adding a steel barricade to boot.
“I was looking for some invoices in the supply room, and I found the loan paperwork.”
Gran grimaced. “Oh, you found that, did you?”
“A loan, Gran? Really? It’s so risky, and for what?”
She lifted her chin, staring him straight in the eyes. “For a business that I love dearly and that’s been in our family for years. You may only see me as an old woman, August, but I’ve been running Porter’s Petals since before I married your grandfather. I love that shop, and so did he. It’s more than just a flower store. It’s a place where people can buy expressions of love, of gratitude, sorrow, and celebration. It’s a part of me, a part of you, and every day I open that front door, I swear I can still feel your grandfather’s presence, wrapped around me as I tend to the flowers he loved only second to his family.”
Damn. He didn’t think about the fact that his grandparents used to run the store together. She’d left the home they shared long ago. Of course the shop would hold memories of the man she’d loved her entire life. No wonder she was so adamant about keeping it. “Gran, I—”
“No,” she interrupted, looking sterner and stronger than any woman who’d recently had surgery had a right to. “You listen to me, August Porter. I love that shop, but I love you more. Your father never wanted any part of the flower business, and I understand that. Everyone has to live their own path. But I had hoped, with your love of growing beautiful things, that one day you would want to take over. Now I know this loan move might seem like I’m trying to bribe you to stay with a plot of land for you to grow your flowers on, and I won’t deny it isn’t, but I also know a few folks who love growing flowers who’d be more than happy to work the land for me. So this isn’t a threat to get you to stay. Just an offer. A compromise for you to think on. But I will not be selling the shop. Not now. Not ever.”
“You said we could talk about it.”
“I did, and we have.”
He let out a frustrated laugh. Deep down, he must have known his grandmother was never going to sell the shop. He’d just let himself be blind to the reality. Hoping he could convince her of his wishes while completely disregarding hers. Seemed stubbornness ran in the family.
“You found the loan paperwork, but that doesn’t explain how you found out about my surgery.” She snuggled deeper into her pillows. “I assume you knew about the surgery before you arrived at my door.”
He nodded. “I did. I found the application and went home to…talk to Mo about it, and the surgery came out.”
“Ha!” Grandma let out a sharp laugh followed by a soft grunt when the loud exclamation caused her discomfort. “I know you, boy. I’m sure it was a very loud conversation.”
Yeah, okay, so he might have yelled a bit. But he’d been so angry. Still was a little, but mostly he was just sad, disappointed that Mo had kept things from him. He was beginning to think they might have a shot at something real, but how could they when the woman lied to him? How could he trust her?
A relationship without trust was nothing.
“She went behind my back, Gran,” he argued. “She didn’t tell me about the loan or your surgery.”
