Free Finding Home by Irene Hannon Page B

watched a vintage film from Steve’s DVD collection and shared a huge bowl of popcorn. Jarrod had loved those evenings.
    “Okay. I like that one.” He finished off his water, set the glass on the counter and disappeared in the direction of the family room.
    Before her melancholy thoughts could take hold, the doorbell rang. Odd. Who would come calling uninvited on a Sunday afternoon?
    A quick check through the peephole brought her smile back, however. Lillian from the Orchid was standing on the other side, a wicker basket hooked over her arm, the contents covered with a checkered cloth.
    The Starfish Bay version of meals-on-wheels.
    Cindy opened the door. “This is a nice surprise. Come in.”
    “I’m not here to visit. I doubt you’re up for that.” Lillian leaned close to inspect the bump on Cindy’s forehead. “My. That’s a nasty one. Genevieve and I are on our way to the college for the arts festival. Janice is coming along to interpret the artwork for us.” She flapped her hand toward the car, and the local gallery owner and Genevieve waved. “Then we’re going to take in the play. We didn’t think you’d be up to cooking, so here’s something to tide you over until tomorrow.” Lillian handed over the basket.
    As Cindy took it, her eyes widened. “Wow. This feels like enough food for a week.”
    “Not at all. You just enjoy it. Wouldn’t hurt you to put some meat on your bones.”
    As if the older woman could talk. While her sister was short and a bit rounded, Lillian was tall and spare. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her lean frame. But Cindy refrained from pointing that out.
    “Thank you. It seems Jarrod and I have been blessed with an abundance of generosity in the past twenty-four hours.”
    “Yes. I heard how Scott Walsh saved the day.”
    Even after seven years in Starfish Bay, Cindy was still surprised at how quickly news spread. “Let me guess. You stopped at the Mercantile.”
    “Otherwise known as news central. Lindsey hears everything.” Lillian grinned, then touched her cropped dark hair, which sported only a few streaks of gray despite her seventy years. “I do believe I felt a raindrop. We’d best get on the road. You rest up and take care of yourself.”
    She hurried back to the car, and as they drove off Janice stuck her hand out the window and waved again.
    Janice.
    Now there was an idea. Pursing her lips, Cindy closed the door. Maybe the best—and safest—way she could thank Scott for his hospitality would be to try and lift his grandmother’s spirits. It was obvious he was worried about her. She could send flowers, since she’d spent the night in the woman’s house, but perhaps there was more she could do. Scott’s grandmother was a talented painter. Janice liked to feature local artists. Could she pair the two of them up? Would that make Scott’s grandmother take a new interest in life?
    Back in the kitchen, Cindy deposited the basket on the counter as mouthwatering aromas drifted through the air. The sisters’ rosemary pork tenderloin, she speculated, leaning closer to sniff. Far better than anything she’d have thrown together tonight.
    But before she put the food away or joined Jarrod for the movie now well under way—based on the rollicking music coming from the family room—she was going to take a second stab at her thank-you note. And make a suggestion that would allow her to express her appreciation to the tall construction company owner in a much more concrete way.
    * * *
    “She wants to show my paintings to an art gallery owner?” Gram stared at Scott as if he’d suggested she take up Rollerblading.
    “Why not? I think it’s a great idea. I always said you had talent. This is the chance to show it to the world.” He took her arm to steady her as they maneuvered around a corner and started back toward her room.
    “I’m not good enough for that. How did this come up anyway?”
    Scott tapped his shirt pocket. “I found a thank-you note from her