“Tony, I don’t care if you work on the docks forever. You know that doesn’t matter to me one bit.”
“It matters to me. I want to be something you can be proud of.”
“What will your family think?”
“My father won’t be happy, but he has three other sons to leave the business to.”
Evelyn leaned her head on his shoulder. “Officer Delgado,” she mused. “It sounds good.” She thought about the first time she saw him, when he forced his brother to do the right thing. “I think you’d be a wonderful police officer.”
He leaned his head on top of hers and they sat next to each other, looking into the fire as if they could see their future together in it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I looked at my grandmother with distrust as the man who exited the cottage wrapped her in a warm hug.
When he released her, she held his hand with her right, then took mine with her left. “Joe, I want you to meet my granddaughter, Jenna. Jenna, this is Joe Fonseca.”
He held out his hand, and I awkwardly had to disentangle mine from my grandmother’s to shake it. “Hi,” he said, grinning, and a wave of annoyance flared as I looked at him. Most Airbnbs had keypad entrances, so you didn’t need to interact with a human being. And while, yes, she would pick human contact over avoiding people at all costs the way my generation did, I realized instantly that this was intentional. And not just because she was watching us with the same level of interest with which she devoured episodes of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.
Under other circumstances, those rich brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when his full lips parted to flash perfect, even white teeth at me from a suntanned face would have absolutely been a welcome sight. But I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to think about dating again, let alone meeting someone on vacation. And a Grandma Evelyn setup was the kiss of death, as I learned in college.
“Hi,” I replied guardedly, then pulled my hand from his and turned to my grandmother. “Let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted from the trip.”
“Not in the slightest. I’m old—I’m not infirm.” Taking Joe’s arm, she led him toward the cottage steps. “You’ll need to show me what that old bat of an owner has had done since I was here last. I’m not over the porch yet.”
I was still standing by the car. With a sigh, I opened the trunk and began lifting the bags out.
“Jenna!” Grandma called.
“I’ll get those,” Joe said from the steps.
Defeated, I followed them into the cottage, hoping he would leave soon but knowing my grandmother better than that.
The front door opened into a hall, with what appeared to be a living room on the right, a dining room on the left, the kitchen straight ahead, and a staircase next to the living room’s entrance. I looked at the stairs warily. My grandmother still lived in the house she had spent the better part of fifty years in with my grandfather, but she got one of those motorized chairs for the steps after Grandpa died. She said she was fine, but I knew she worried about falling, especially living alone. And she wasn’t going to let me help her up and down the stairs.
I followed their voices into the kitchen, which was tastefully done, with light wood cabinets and granite countertops. Grandma was shaking her head. “Where’s the charm? It was rustic when we spent summers here, but that was the appeal of it.” She looked over her shoulder at me. “That and the cool air of course. We had no air conditioning back then.”
“There are window units upstairs. But the house still doesn’t have central air.”
“What would be the point? If you don’t have the windows open, why are you even here? Joe, be a dear and open the windows for us.” He left her side and began doing as she said.
I came closer to her, talking low. “I know this place has sentimental value, but we might be better off somewhere without all the stairs.”
She looked at me like I had suggested we take up cannibalism. “You are as bad as your mother.” She raised her voice in a falsetto. “‘You can’t drive to Hereford because you don’t have a license. You can’t make it up a few stairs.’” She went back to her normal tone. “Next thing I know you’re going to be telling me I can’t have a drink.”
“You can’t. Mom said—”
Grandma put a finger in my face. “You would do well to cut that out. I’m not a child. And I won’t let you talk to me like I’m one.”