Mamaw was launching into the plans she’d made for Granny James’s visit. Trips to Charleston to tour the old houses, perhaps a stop at the plantation houses. Harper saw her grandmother’s face grow still and her eyes glaze.

“You might wish to freshen up,” Mamaw continued. “We’ve prepared a lovely dinner. We serve at six.”

Granny James slowly rose to her feet, dragging her enormous purse with her. “I’m afraid I won’t be joining you for dinner. I’m very tired. Jet lag and all. If you don’t mind, I’d very much like to retire to my room.” She sighed. “Or cottage.”

Mamaw’s smile slipped. But she rallied and pulled her smile back into place as she rose to a stand. “Why, of course. You must be exhausted from your long journey. It’s not like the old days before the airlines cut costs and provided a good meal and special accommodations for the elderly. And you do look warm. We don’t wear dark colors on the island.” She looked to Harper. “Be a dear and see your grandmother to the cottage and help her feel at home. There’s a small kitchen there,” Mamaw explained to Granny James. “We stocked it with cereal and tea and nibbles. In case you get hungry later. But do let us know if you need anything.”

Mamaw clasped her hands in front of her, her duty as hostess complete.

Granny James slipped off her navy-blue jacket the moment she entered the cottage, then reached up to pat her hair. Draping the jacket over the nubby white sofa, she walked around the sparsely furnished, freshly painted white room, taking in the brilliant Jonathan Green painting on the wall, the raffia-covered coffee table, the sea-grass rugs, and the long white cotton curtains at the windows. Harper followed her into the bedroom. Harper had left the windows open and the pale blue linen curtains ruffled on a breeze. Here, too, the walls were white and the linens a matching pale blue.

“I feel like I’m in Santorini,” Granny James said with a slight smile.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d feel.”

Granny James stretched out her arms and, bending over, tested out the mattress.

“Brand-new,” Harper assured her. “Everything is new. This was Lucille’s cottage. We stripped it and freshened it up. You’re the first guest.”

“I should hope so. I understand the woman died in here.”

Harper sighed. “Mamaw’s tried very hard to make you feel comfortable. Sea Breeze is very dear to her.”

“Yes, she seems a proud person.” Granny took off her sapphire earrings. “With very little to be proud about.”

Harper shook her head. “I’ll get your suitcase.”

When she returned to the bedroom, her grandmother had slipped off her shoes and was standing at the window, staring out. Without the boxy jacket, in her knit shell, Harper saw that her grandmother had kept her slim, curvaceous figure.

“Not Santorini,” Granny James said wistfully. “This cottage takes me back to Cornwall. My family had a cottage there once, overlooking the sea. A cottage very much like this one.” She sighed. “I was very young. I loved it there.”

Harper dragged the large black suitcase to the center of the room. “You brought enough for a long stay.”

Granny turned from the window. “I didn’t know what to pack. I planned for every contingency.”

“A swimsuit and shorts would have been enough for Sea Breeze.”

“Yes, I see that now.” Granny walked to the bed and sat down, sinking into the down coverlet. “Harper, dear. Please sit down.”

Harper went to sit in the small antique lady’s chair beside the bed.

“This engagement of yours”—Granny James got right to the point—“it feels rushed. I’ve not yet met the man. Or his family.”

“I know it seems like that. It all happened so fast.” Harper laughed. “We’re kind of in shock ourselves. But it just felt right.”

“But marriage, Harper . . . it’s too important a decision not to take seriously.”

“Granny James”—Harper sat straighter—“we’re not rushing into marriage. We haven’t even set a date. I have to find a job, a place to live. Taylor is just beginning his new job. We both know that we have a lot to get settled before we get married.” She looked into Granny’s eyes. “I assure you, we are taking it seriously.”

Granny James studied Harper’s face, considering, then sighed. “Very well. That’s enough for tonight. We can talk more tomorrow. Just you and I.” Granny put her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’m completely knackered. And”—she dropped her hand—“I have no intention of being a tourist.”

Summarily dismissed, Harper went to her grandmother and chastely kissed her cheek. Even under the best of circumstances, Granny James rarely gave out kisses or hugs. Unlike Mamaw, who made stepping into her arms so easy.

“Good night.” Granny James’s face softened and she let her hand linger on Harper’s arm. “It really is good to see you again, my dear. I’ve missed you.”

Harper smiled at the tender expression. “I’ve missed you, too. Good night.”

She closed the door behind her when she left.

Chapter Nineteen

Harper woke the next morning and hurried to the kitchen to prepare Granny James’s breakfast. She was stirring a pot on the stove when Mamaw walked in, breezy and sweet scented in a tangerine top and khaki pants.

“Smells good. What is it you’re cooking?” She looked in the pot. “Grits?”

“I thought Granny would enjoy it. Being a southern dish and all.”

“How long does Imogene intend to sleep, do you think?” Mamaw asked, her disapproval thinly veiled. She laid out on a tray her usual morning meal of coffee thick with cream, a biscuit, and cut fruit.

“She’s usually an early riser,” Harper replied somewhat defensively. “England is five hours ahead of us, so she went to bed last night at what was past midnight for her. Plus, I think she’s been very worried about me. Probably hasn’t slept well for days.”

“That might excuse her rude retreat last night.”

Harper rolled her eyes.

“Whatever was she worried about?”

Harper twisted her lips. “My mother called her and filled her head with stories about how I was running off to get married.”