“No, Alex will be there.”
“Who is he?”
“The contractor. He has a pickup with a trailer hitch.”
Mischief edged her grandmother’s tone. “Does he have big muscles, too?”
“Upsie,” Zoë chided, and felt her color rise as she remembered the hard strength of Alex’s body pressed to hers. “Yes, as a matter of fact he does.”
“Is he attractive?”
“Very.”
“Married?”
“Divorced.”
“Why did he—”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Zoë said, laughing. “I’m not interested in a love life right now. I want to focus on taking care of you.”
“I’d like to see you find a good man before I’m gone,” Emma said wistfully.
“You’d better hang around then, because at this rate it’s going to take me a while.” Hearing the back door of the kitchen open, Zoë turned to see Alex walking in. She smiled at him, her heart beginning to beat faster.
“When are you coming to get me?” Emma asked.
“The day after tomorrow.”
Her grandmother sounded perturbed. “Did I already ask that?”
“Yes,” Zoë said gently. “It’s fine.” At the periphery of her vision, she saw Alex looking at a pan of muffins on the counter, and she gestured for him to take one. He complied without hesitation. Zoë went to pour him some coffee, while she said on the phone, “I’d better get busy now.”
But the minor mistake had made Emma anxious. “Someday I’ll look at you,” she said, “and I’ll think ‘that’s the nice girl who makes me dinner’ and I won’t know you’re my granddaughter.”
The words caused a painful tug in Zoë’s chest. She swallowed hard and poured some cream into Alex’s coffee. “I’ll still know who you are,” she said. “I’ll still love you.”
“That’s awfully one-sided. What good is a grandmother who doesn’t remember anything?”
“You’re more to me than what you remember.” Zoë slid an apologetic glance to Alex, knowing that he disliked to be kept waiting. But he seemed relaxed and patient, his gaze averted as he ate the muffin.
“I won’t be myself,” Emma said.
“You’ll still be you. You’ll just need a little more help. I’ll be there to remind you of things.” At her grandmother’s silence, Zoë said softly, “I’ve got to go, Upsie. I’ll call you later today. In the meantime, you’d better start packing. I’m coming to get you the day after tomorrow.”
“The day after tomorrow,” her grandmother repeated. “Bye, Zoë.”
“Bye. Love you.”
Ending the conversation, Zoë slid the phone into her back pocket and stirred some sugar into Alex’s coffee. She handed it to him.
“Thanks.” His face was unreadable as he looked down at her.
Zoë’s throat was so tight that she wasn’t sure she could talk.
Seeming to understand, Alex filled the silence by saying easily, “I’ve already loaded the boxes into the pickup. I’ll take you and Justine to the cottage, and you can start putting away the dishes and books and that stuff. When Duane gets there, we’ll hitch up the trailer and move the furniture from storage.” He paused to take a swallow of coffee, his gaze sweeping briefly over her.
Zoë had dressed in a pair of jeans, a shapeless T-shirt, and a pair of old sneakers. And unlike Justine, who was slender and long-stemmed no matter what she wore, Zoë didn’t have the figure for baggy clothes. On a woman with her breasts and hips, anything that didn’t fit well was unflattering.