Page 26 of Lovestrung

“Yeah,” I whispered. “You did. But, luckily for you, I’ve never believed in holding grudges, and I won’t start now.”

I waited for him to say anything, but all I got was his quiet breathing. Looking down at my notepad, I waited him out.

Finally, he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Have you found a live-in nurse or caretaker for Frederik yet?”

I rubbed my eyes and looked down at the agency I’d been referred to by the city council.

“Not yet. I’ve been interviewing people for the past couple of months, but I haven’t found a good fit yet.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just…” I got up to pour myself another cup of coffee. “I just haven’t.”

His voice softened.

“You’re worried about him.”

“Well, yes,” I admitted. “He’s my grandfather, after all.” I grabbed my mug and shuffled back to the island. My gaze zeroed in on one name that I’d circled in gold. “But…”

“But what?”

“I have one candidate that I’ve interviewed before who might be a good fit. At least she seemed genuinely interested in the job instead of the others.”

“Why aren’t your mom and dad handling this?”

I steeled my spine.

“Because I’m the one who’s lived with him for the past two years, and they don’t have time to do it. Nor do I think it’s fair, since I’m the one who’s leaving him.”

“Fair enough. Remember what your dad always taught us? Follow you gut, Penelope.”

“Pippa,” I grumbled.

He sighed.

“Man, you are stubborn. But, aside that, go with your instincts. They’re good ones. I have to go, but let me know how it goes.”

“I’m not stubborn,” I groused but I was talking to dead air. Frustrated, I rolled my eyes but then picked up my notepad.

Louisa Paulson.

“Damn you, Ethan.”

Then I called Louisa to set up another interview for the next day.

* * *

Louisa Paulson was fifty-four years old, single, and had been a live-in nurse for quite a few elderly people during her professional life. She had two children – both lived out of state – but since she didn’t see them much, she was fine with living in the home of her patients.

When I met her the first time, I’d immediately felt at ease in her company and enjoyed our conversation, but I didn’t want to jump any guns and go with the first candidate just because I’d had a good feeling about her.

But maybe I’d been wrong.

“Thank you for coming again,” I smiled at her as we sat down in the living room.

Her smile was just as friendly as the last time I’d met her. Her salt-and-pepper pixie cut suited her, and I liked that she didn’t hide behind thick layers of makeup, but instead kept it subtle, enhancing her natural beauty.