Page 73 of Branded

“That is putting it mildly, to say the least.”

The rest of the ride to her small senior citizen community is so easy, filled with conversation and listening to music, I almost forget I’m nervous... until he pulls into a parking spot near the front and kills the engine.

“Shall we?”

“We shall,” I respond, taking a moment to check my makeup in the mirror.

He gets out of the truck, telling me to stay put, before circling around and opening my door for me. I don’t think I’ve opened a door for myself since the day I met him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re going to have to stop thanking me for doing normal things, Sawyer.”

“Men being this chivalrous isn’t a normal occurrence, Isaac, plus I’m grateful. I’ll always say thank you.”

“My Grams and Gramps taught me right.”

The community she lives in is unlike anything I’ve seen. It’s a small, gated area with individual cottages, so the residents can maintain the independence they have while also being monitored, should that be necessary. There’s a community center in the middle that boasts a sign out front saying tonight there will be water exercise in the indoor pool, plus a movie night.

“This is really nice.”

“I tried to get her to move in with me, but she’s stubborn, as I’m sure you guessed. She wanted to be somewhere she could be on her own, but still looked after. She did her own research and decided this is where she wanted to stay.”

“I can think of worse places.”

We follow the sidewalk down until we reach a small, blue cottage with hanging baskets on the porch and a rocking chair just beside the door.

He knocks twice on the door before sliding a key into the lock and pushing the door open.

“Grams?”

“I’m back here! I’ll be out in a second!” she calls from the back of the house.

There’s a small kitchen to the right when you first walk through the doorway and straight ahead, you come to a small living area with all the things you’d expect in a grandmother’s home.

Pictures of her family, beautiful antique furniture, and crocheted blankets folded neatly in a stack with one in process in a wicker basket by the sofa.

“You can sit. Make yourself at home,” he tells me.

“Actually, I want to look at this.”

I move closer to the hanging shelf on the far wall by a window that has framed pictures on the top shelf. One of them is obviously very old with its sepia coloring. It’s a photo of a young woman in a beautiful dress, with a scarf around her hair, standing next to a man who very much resembles Isaac in a military uniform.

“That’s my Phillip.”

I look back over my shoulder and see Jean standing there with her hand on her heart.

“Hi, Grams.” Isaac walks over to her and places a kiss on her cheek. “You look nice today.”

“Well, it’s not every day my grandson takes meandhis girlfriend out on a date.” She pats his cheek then turns her attention back to me. “It’s lovely to see you again, Sawyer.”

“You too, Mrs. Black.”

“Oh, piss,” she waves me off. “Don’t call me that. Jean is just fine.”

“Jean. Got it.” I turn my eyes back to the photo. “Was Phillip your husband?”

She comes up to my side and pulls the frame down into her hands. “Husband. Best friend. Lover. You name it. He was my everything.”

---