The doctor gave me a warm smile. “Maybe you’ll think better of crawling around in there during the winter. It’s been warm this winter so far, but you’re no stranger to the ocean in these parts.”
“No.” I sighed and flopped back on my nonexistent pillow. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in there.” How my grandmother moved around in there was beyond me.
In fact, that should have been a clue.
Annabelle was a fit older woman, but she wouldn’t have been climbing around in there. I’d been so excited to get a clue as to what could be behind the multiple break-ins that I’d jumped on the idea of the cove before thinking.
So stupid.
“You should be up on your feet in a week. If you hadn’t scared us with the hypothermia, I’d have let you go home today.”
“Great.”
I tried to straighten up at a knock on the door. “Am I interrupting?”
The familiar voice brought a stupid wash of tears. I smiled at the huge vase of yellow blooms blocking most of her body. They were a mix of roses, tulips, and daffodils. “Hi, Phil.”
“Get some rest, Ms. Copeland.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
He stopped at the door. “Just a few minutes.”
Philomena Stanwick made an entrance, flowers or not. She swept in and pushed over the smaller bouquet of flowers that I hadn’t noticed before. A single white rosebud was nestled in a trio of sterling gray roses just about to unfurl.
Without looking at a card, I knew they were from Blake.
Unusual. Thoughtful and memorable with a dash of offhand romance. So much like the man. Always keeping me off balance.
I would’ve expected red, but not those. Those were definitely not the kind that would be ordered by an assistant. Considering I was his assistant, it wasn’t exactly a stretch that he’d have to do it on his own.
But he could have foisted it off on Jack’s PA.
The fact that he actually thought to do it…well, I didn’t know what to think about that.
Again, my cheeks grew hot, this time for a whole different reason. I cleared my throat. “Could you put the little vase over here?”
“Oh.” Phil blinked. “I barely saw it.” She brought the vase over and twirled it. “No card. Who’s it from?”
I chewed on my lower lip. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to get into it with Phil. The happy serum that Dr. Perrault had given me was definitely doing its job. I barely felt my ankle.
She trailed a long nail along the edge of one of the blooms. “Blake?”
I shrugged.
“Hmm.”
I picked at a piece of lint on my blanket. “No hmm.”
Phil waggled her brows. “I didn’t want to pry when you left the gallery again. I was hoping you working on new pieces, not Blake Carson.”
“I did—am.” I huffed out a breath. “I’m doing both.”
“Don’t define your world by a man. That’s never been your way, Grace.”
“I actually like working for him. He challenges me.”
“Well, put some of that challenge in your artwork instead.”
“I already have two pieces started. One’s just about finished.”
Phil’s dark eyes sharpened. “Oh? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” She waved her fingers. “See, you got me talking about work. I’m here to visit you, silly girl. How are you? What happened?”
I tapped the immobilizer under the blanket. “I’m fine. Just a little accident in the cove.”
“This time of year?” Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “What were you doing in there?”
“It was a mistake.” I sighed. “I found my grandmother’s diary…” I trailed off.
No one but Blake knew about the break-ins. Well, the police had been called, but most of the speculation had revolved around kids breaking into empty houses to party. That theory had grown strength when no one had come forward with a gunshot wound. A little blood had been left behind, but not a lot. The cops had just assumed Blake had scared away the kids with what was most likely a minor injury.
It certainly was a good theory, except a single beer can hadn’t been left behind at any of the break-ins. Nor had there been any other evidence that really indicated kids. The only things that had remained in the intruders’ wake were the various bits of glass broken. It just seemed too random to be vandalism and bored teens. Especially when there was a perfectly good development going in a few miles up the road.
There were too many nosy busybodies in Lady’s Cove. And I really didn’t want to get into it with Phil.
I was getting a secretive as Blake, for God’s sake.
“I was missing my grandmother. It was one of her favorite places,” I said lamely.
Phil sat next to me on the right side—away from my ankle—and patted my hand. “We all miss Annabelle.”
I blinked away tears. Between the meds from the doctor, the fruitless search expedition, and my stupid leg, I was done in.
“Oh, sweetie.” Phil enveloped me in her signature Chanel scent and black silk softness. She wasn’t exactly a hugger, but we had enough history that I let myself lean on her for a moment longer than I normally would. “Better?”
I nodded.
“So, tell me about this piece.”