Free The Wedding Tree by Robin Wells Page A

just love that child to death.”
    â€œI was horrified to learn she’d been sneaking into your house,” Peggy said.
    â€œShe’s welcome anytime. Her visits always brighten my day.”
    â€œWell, she’s not supposed to leave the backyard. It caused quite a stir when Matt and Jillian discovered she was gone. Jillian said they were frantic.”
    The pieces fell into place. So these were Jillian’s parents—and Sophie’s grandparents. The parents of Matt’s late wife.
    â€œJillian said she and Matt found her here in the kitchen with Hope,” Peggy said.
    My face flushed. If Jillian had mentioned that we’d met, it was a sure bet that she’d mentioned what I was wearing. I didn’t think Gran would be offended I’d been trying on her clothes, but the fact I was doing it while she was lying in the hospital seemed, well . . . inappropriate. Insensitive, even.
    The teakettle whistled. I hurried over to deal with it, relieved at the opportunity to change the topic. “Can I get you some tea?” I looked at Peggy, then Griff. “Or a beer? Eddie left some Abita in the fridge.”
    â€œI’ll take one of those,” Griff said.
    â€œI’ll have tea, dear, if you’re sure it isn’t any trouble.”
    They settled at the table. I set out plates, napkins, and spoons, along with a selection of baked goods. “Oh, are those Mabel’s brownies?” Peggy asked.
    â€œYes, indeed,” Gran said. “Help yourself.”
    I poured tea and brought Griff a beer, then sat down with them, a cup of Earl Grey in my hand.
    â€œI was telling Hope how much I admired the mural in your dining room,” Peggy said.
    Gran beamed. “Hope has a lot of artistic talent.”
    I smiled self-consciously and bit into a brownie. Rich chocolate flavor flooded my mouth. Mabel’s reputation was well deserved.
    â€œMy granddaughters want their room painted like a castle,” Peggy said. “I’ve been looking for someone to do it.”
    â€œHope could paint it,” Gran volunteered.
    I froze in mid-chocolate ecstasy.
    â€œIt’ll give her something to do in the evenings,” Gran continued. “After a day of helping me sort and pack, she’s going to need to get out of the house.”
    I tried to swallow my mouthful of brownie, but it stuck in my throat. I hadn’t picked up a brush since my divorce. Actually, since well before it.
    â€œI’ll pay you, of course,” Peggy continued. “It’s my gift to the girls. I’d arranged to hire an artist from New Orleans and pay him six thousand dollars plus travel expenses, but he decided he didn’t want to make the drive.”
    Six thousand dollars? I have to say, the prospect of earning some money during my time in Wedding Tree had a certain appeal. So did the idea of painting a mural. My ex would have scoffed at the idea, calling it lowbrow and common.
    Which, come to think of it, was a great reason for me to go ahead and do it. “Sounds interesting,” I said. “But I haven’t painted in a long time.”
    â€œOh, it’ll come right back to you.” Peggy looked at Gran. “Miss Addie, are you sure you can spare her?”
    Gran flapped a wrist dismissively. “Eddie’s hired round-the-clock aides to stay with me. I’ll be just fine.”
    â€œWonderful!” Peggy clapped her hands together. “I’ll talk to Matt and see when would be a good time for you to meet with him and the girls and discuss it.”
    The conversation drifted to other topics. The aide, a wide-hipped, pleasant-faced woman named Nadine, came back from the store and announced it was time for Gran to take some medicine.
    Griff and Peggy rose to take their leave. “I’ll be calling you,” Peggy said as I saw them out the door.
    When I returned to the kitchen, Gran’s face looked drawn and pale, and Nadine was