Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2)(34)
“Grandpa!” Ava said in a stern voice. “That’s your third! You’re not s’posed to eat them all, Right, Mommy?”
“Right.” Morgan lifted an eyebrow at her grandfather.
Grandpa laughed. “Life is short. Eat dessert.”
All three girls looked at Morgan hopefully.
Shaking her head at her grandfather, she turned back to her girls and said, “One cupcake each.”
“You were s’posed to watch him,” Ava said to Stella.
Stella laughed. “He doesn’t listen to me.”
Before moving in with her boyfriend, Mac, over the summer, Stella had lived with Grandpa too. Come to think of it, had Grandpa ever had the house to himself? Morgan’s older brother, Ian, had been in college when their father had died. Ian had been grown, but Grandpa had helped raise his three younger granddaughters. The man was a saint.
Grandpa reached for another cupcake, his hand trembling.
Stella slid the plate out of his reach. “I doubt your cardiologist would approve.”
A saint with a stubborn streak.
“You’d think, at my age, I could do what I wanted,” Grandpa grumbled.
“Think again.” Morgan kissed him on the cheek. “We love you too much for that.”
The girls went back to smearing icing on cupcakes. Ava and Mia worked with slow and deliberate strokes, but Sophie’s cupcakes looked like they had been decorated with a fire extinguisher.
Morgan sniffed. The kitchen smelled of roasted meat and vegetables. She turned to Gianna. “That smells amazing. What was for dinner?”
“Pot roast.” Gianna dried the slow cooker crock and set it on the counter. “There are leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“We ate, but I will have a cupcake.” Morgan plucked one from the plate.
Though Gianna was still too slender, the dark-haired young woman had put on at least ten pounds and lost her death’s-door pallor since Morgan insisted she move in with them four months ago. She still needed kidney dialysis, but her health and quality of life had improved, so much so that she’d insisted on being Morgan’s live-in nanny.
Ava carefully smoothed the top of a cupcake and carried it to Lance. “This one’s for you.”
“Thanks. Vanilla is my favorite.” Lance took the cupcake and ate it in three bites. “I’d better go. I’ll pick you up at eight thirty?”
They were interviewing Chelsea’s boss at nine.
“That’s fine.” Morgan said, glad she’d kissed him goodbye in the Jeep.
“Where’s Mac?” Morgan asked Stella after Lance left.
“At SAR training. Five days in the woods. He’s in heaven.” Stella often said Mac would never be fully tamed. Totally at home in the wilderness, he had joined the local search and rescue team.
“I’d better go.” Stella stood. “I have an early day tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Morgan followed her sister to the front door.
“He’s really good with kids.” Stella donned her coat.
Morgan opened the door for her. “He seems to enjoy them.”
“You’re lucky to find a second good man.”
“I am.” Morgan pushed back at the sadness that crept up her throat at the reminder of her late husband. No more lamenting about her loss. It was time to look forward to the future. She followed her sister outside. “How was the cardiologist appointment today?”
“As far as I know, the doctor adjusted his medication. Grandpa wouldn’t let me go in with him.” Stella tugged her keys from her pocket.
“Why is he so stubborn?”
“Because he’s a Dane?” Stella paused to brush a hair off her face. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Thanks for taking him today.”
“Hey, he’s my grandpa too. Please don’t feel like you have to do it all. We’ll manage it together.” Stella got into her car and drove away.
Morgan watched her sister’s taillights disappear into the darkness. Stella was right. Morgan didn’t have to manage everything alone. Why did she always think she did? That whole bringing-home-the-bacon-and-frying-it-up-in-a-pan thing got old fast.
She turned back toward the house. The hairs on her nape rose. Was someone watching her?
She spun around, her eyes searching the darkness beyond the reach of the lights. There was no one in front of the house, and the street was empty in both directions. A gust of wind blew dead leaves along the gutter. Her imagination must be working overtime with Chelsea’s disappearance.
But her steps quickened as she hurried toward the front door. She went inside, locked the door, and set the alarm. Grandpa took home security seriously. He’d installed motion lights, surveillance cameras, and a solid alarm system.