Page 7 of Meet Me at the Fudge Shop

“Seriously?”

Someone had called the elevator, and it began to move.

“You do know they’re restoring the Grand Sullivan Hotel, right?”

“I feel like Mom mentioned that, but kind of zoned out when she was talking. Shoot. I have to go, bro.” The doors opened on the floor below, and Declan got out into a hallway of law offices. He followed the signs to the stairs. “Thanks for letting me know about Grandma, and please keep me posted. Are you on island right now?”

“I’m at the hospital in Port Joseph at the moment, but yeah, visiting my mom for a while. But Dec?—”

“Declan, is that you?”

Oh, great. He opened the door to the stairwell. “Hi, Mom.” Clearly she’d stolen Brandon’s phone from his hands. “I heard about Grandma. I’ll be praying for her, all right?”

“Yes, it’s just awful.” But Martha Kelley’s voice didn’t sound tearful or weepy. It sounded…well, the same it always did. No nonsense. Commanding. There was a reason she’d assimilated so well into the Kelley restaurant dynasty on the island, running the café herself after she and Dad had gotten married, changing its name from Kelley’s Diner to Martha’s on Main. Nobody could say no to her. “You need to come home right away.”

He stood in the cold hallway and rubbed the vein between his eyes—the one that always throbbed when he spoke with Mom. “I’m starting my new job today, remember?”

“Right.” She sighed. “If they’re a good company, they’ll understand that family comes first.”

Ha. And the words were right there, on his lips—then why didn’t she get along with her own brother-in-law? Then again, if anyone outside the family ever spoke ill of Patrick, she chewed that person out. Apparently, only a Kelley could insult a Kelley and get away with it.

“Listen, Mom. Brandon said Grandma’s doing okay. Maybe I can come visit this weekend, once she’s out of the hospital.” He did the mental math—he’d have to leave early on Friday to beat the traffic out of town for the Fourth of July weekend. Six hours to the ferry in Port Joseph, and then another hour to the island.

“You should be here. Now.”

He sighed. “Mom, I appreciate your desire for our family to be together at a time like this?—”

“What Iappreciateis that shrewd brain of yours. You’ve got financial savvy, and we need that now to save Grandma’s house.”

“Me? What about Dad? He’s the accountant.”

“And he’s good at what he does, but I need someone who can think outside the box.”

Voices lifted in the hallway. Declan caught sight of several businessmen and women stepping off the elevators. He glanced at his watch, frowned. People were starting to arrive for work, and he was going to be late for his eight a.m. with his new boss. What kind of impression wouldthatmake?

“Send me all the information and documents, and I’ll work on a solution from here.” He started up the stairs.

“Declan James Kelley, this needs to be your main focus. Put that big MBA brain of yours to use.”

“I’m trying,” he muttered.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.” Another glance at his watch. “Mom, seriously, I’ll call you back in a bit. I promise, I’ll think of something.”

“It’s so sad. Grandpa never forgot to pay his mortgage. Grandma’s been lost without Grandpa.”

And there it was. The reason he’d mostly stayed off island for the last decade except for holidays and a few weeks in the summers between classes.

Because the guilt would always be there, would always be a part of him, something he’d never forget. And if he did, his family was right there, more than happy to remind him of what he owed them.

What he owed Grandma.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I’ll do my best to come.”

Another sigh. “The family needs you, Declan. We can’t lose that house.”

She made it sound like they were in the mafia. Sheesh.

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