Page 6 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

“Good. Stable’s good.” He blew out a breath. “Is she at the Jonathon Island clinic or did they take her to the mainland?”

“She’s at the Port Joseph Hospital, but they said given the fact she’s eighty-three, they’ll keep her overnight for observation. Sorry I didn’t call you sooner. We didn’t want to call until we had good news. I know how much she means to you—to all of us—and didn’t want you to worry.”

Oops, he hadn’t realized he was pacing until the door opened and another man got out, and the woman took another step away from him.

He retreated to the corner, facing the wall, and fought to keep his voice low. “I appreciate the call, but you definitely should have told me sooner.”

He’d never be ready to lose Grandma, but especially not now—before he’d figured out some way to restore his family’s faith in him.

But this job…maybe it was a start.

“So she’s okay?”

“She’s okay. Physically, at least.”

Declan stilled. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently the reason she had the episode in the first place is because the county is foreclosing on her home.”

Foreclosing—it took a second. “What?” Declan schooled his voice as the elevator stopped again. He glanced, and the woman got out, leaving him, blessedly, alone. “Why would they do that? The house has been in the family for more than a hundred years. It’s on the same road as all of us. All the kids. Aw, we should have never let her live alone.”

“We? Dude, you haven’t lived here for ten years—since graduation.”

“I know, I know—sorry, it’s just…”

Brandon’s voice softened. “I get it. You never really leave the island.”

Huh. But he was trying to, wasn’t he?

“Apparently, she owes ten years’ worth of back taxes…ever since Grandpa died,” Brandon said. “And she didn’t tell anyone, despite multiple warnings from the county. Now, it’s too late.”

Declan swore under his breath just as the elevator opened again. Oops, his floor.

He stood there, not moving.

This was his fault, wasn’t it?

The doors started to close, but he stuck his foot into them. “Why didn’t she ask Dad for help figuring out her taxes?” Frank Kelley, Grandma’s oldest son, was a CPA and handled all of the accounting and marketing for the three family businesses.

“He asked the same thing. Apparently she didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Aw, Grandma.”

A female receptionist greeted visitors from behind a sleek black desk, the logo of the McGentry Food Company behind her. She sent Declan a friendly smile, wiggling her fingers at him while she spoke into her fancy headset.

Shoot. He took his foot out of the door. It closed.

Declan leaned against the back wall. “Surely someone in the family has the money to bail her out of this.”

“It’s a lot of money, Dec.”

“I get it—I’d do it myself, but most of my savings went to paying down my student loans and living while trying to land this job.”

“I get it too. We all want to help. It’s Grandma. But everyone’s strapped—money is tied up in businesses and home and debt. They don’t have enough pooled between them. And you know what the pandemic did to us. Every restaurant is leveraged, just trying to stay afloat. Mom with Good Day Coffee, and Uncle Patrick with Kelley’s Bar & Grill, and your mom with Martha’s on Main. And it doesn’t help that the competition has rolled into town with the one-dollar houses?—”

“The what?”

“It’s a marketing thing—the town has been giving away houses for a buck for businesses that move to the island.”

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