Not the Rebound Guy Abby Knox (best summer reads of all time txt) 📖

she has every right to play Bunco with her friends. I was hoping you and Grams had a good talk, but evidently not.”

“As a matter of fact, we did talk. And now she’s in surgery, so get yourself together and get to the hospital.”

“What? The nurse was supposed to call us!” I say. “How long were we asleep?”

Mom scoffs. “I told them I would fetch you. Long enough, it looks like.”

She has no right to judge me. I’m an adult. “You left Grams alone at the hospital?”

“To find you!”

I feel my anger rising in my chest. “You could have called!”

Garrett places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I feel my blood pressure settling.

“I wanted to see for myself what my mother’s living situation was. I can see that this is not livable, not with the two of you acting so selfishly you can’t be bothered to know what’s going on.”

Calmly, I simply shake my head. She’s unbelievable. I’d forgotten, for someone who’s a successful orthopedist and ostensibly full of knowledge, how irrational and illogical she can be.

I look over at Garrett, and he sees immediately what needs to happen.

“Ma’am, we’ll talk about this at the hospital while we wait for her to get out of surgery. Now, if you don’t mind, we’d like to get dressed and meet you there.”

How is it possible I love this man more and more every minute?

Chapter Twenty

Garrett

The mood in the waiting room outside of surgery is tense, to say the least.

Armed with her planner, Eliza stays focused on tasks, ignoring her mother’s suspicious looks that she keeps casting my way.

“I’m going tell Grams she needs to push back her jam orders because there’s no way it’s happening now,” Eliza declares, her eyes trained on the month on the page in front of her.

“What jam orders?” Karen cuts in.

Not looking up, Eliza replies, “Grams has a jams, jellies, and preserves business. Well, and baking, I should think.”

Karen clucks. “What are you talking about? Since when did my mother become an entrepreneur?”

At this, Eliza meets her mother’s eyes. “If you would talk to her more than once a month, you might know. You do know that she has been making and selling her jams for her entire life.”

Karen sighs. “Yes, she has her little gardening hobby, which I’ve been telling her is too much strain on her at her age. She should retire and go to an assisted living facility where she won’t have to deal with any of that.”

This suggestion makes Eliza sit straight up, and I can feel the instant indignance pouring off her. I place my hand on her back, though I know she’s about to go three rounds. “She loves gardening and making jam and baking. I’m helping her organize it and become more efficient. And Garrett and I have been helping her make jam, too!”

“No wonder she had a stroke. You’ve been putting all this pressure on her,” Karen argues.

“That’s not fair,” I say. “Betty’s just doing what makes her happy.”

Karen points at me. “No. You are not involved in this conversation.”

Eliza shoots me a warning look, which I ignore. “With all due respect, ma’am, I’ve been Betty’s neighbor for several years now. I can tell you unequivocally, the happiest I’ve seen Betty was when she got the news that Eliza was coming to visit. She’s been thrilled to have her granddaughter involved in her business, and Eliza has gotten her excited about all kinds of ideas.”

Eliza’s mother leans forward and squints at me like she’s assessing an idiot. “Do you know how preposterous it is for an 80-year-old woman to start a new business? How much stress that can cause?”

I hold up my hands. “Ma’am, my own grandmother suffered a long, slow decline as a result of dementia at the too-young age of 65. So look at it this way, Betty might someday—not today—but someday, yes, she might die of a stroke. But forgive me for believing that maybe until then, a hobby might help her stave off dementia.”

She scoffs. “Oh, I see. You have the answers to dementia. Have you called the newspaper? They’ll want to interview you.”

Eliza mutters, “We don’t have a newspaper here, Mom. It’s placemats.”

Karen pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what that means, and I don’t want to know what that means. Eliza, all I know is that you’ve been duped. This man is some kind of charlatan; I know it. Nothing about this sits well with me at all. I’ve already called Sunset Towers, and they have a beautiful place already in place for your Grams.”

“Mom!”

She holds up her hands. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s for the best. She can’t take care of herself anymore, and having long-term guests is too much strain on her. And you putting ideas into her head is making it all worse.”

Eliza stands up. “How long have you been planning this Sunset Towers move?”

“What do you mean?”

“No way they have something ready for her as of today.”

Karen cocks her head. “I’m on the board of directors.”

Eliza raises her voice, and I place my hand on her back. But I’ll be damned if I try to shush her. “You should not be making those decisions behind her back.”

I interject. “And as I’m her power of attorney and Eliza is the executor of her estate, I don’t think you have any choice in the matter. She’s not going to agree to it, and if she wasn’t of sound mind, it’s not something I would agree to unless Eliza agrees. I know Eliza has her best interests at heart.”

The look Karen gives me is pure ice and disdain. “Well, I don’t know why you’re so concerned about it. If you’ve managed to weasel your way into her life so thoroughly, that’s not going to change by moving her into a facility. You’ll still be in her will. Unfortunately, I can’t contest that until after my poor mother is gone. Anyway, I’ve already