Time After Time (Sweetbriar Cove #14) - Melody Grace Page 0,17

since Earl’s stroke, just in case he needed a little help. Lord knew the man was too proud to say anything. But apparently, his stubbornness hadn’t taken a hit.

“It was sweet of you to send them, but I’m doing just fine.” Earl said firmly. “I have my pension, and a little nest egg put aside.”

“I know, but things can crop up,” Aidan pointed out.

“And if they do, well, I can just call on you all.” Earl gave a smug grin. “Since you’re all close enough to holler now.”

Aidan sighed reluctantly, but he tucked the envelope away. “I’ve half a mind you planned it this way,” he said, giving his grandpa an affectionate look. “Having them all at your beck and call. I bet you don’t lift a finger these days.”

Earl grinned wider. “I certainly won’t argue with that. But I’d say I’ve earned it, don’t you?”

Aidan smiled. Earl could be gruff and stubborn sometimes, but he had a heart of gold. Aidan could remember summers growing up, when the noise and chaos of his siblings got too much, his grandpa would take him out fishing for the day, just the two of them sitting in companionable silence for hours at a time. They never caught a single fish, but that wasn’t the point.

Aidan looked at the dusty, rotting boat with new eyes. “Is this the one we used to take out fishing?” he asked, remembering the days out on the water, armed with just a tackle box and a brown bag lunch.

“Yes, she is.” Earl said, reaching up to pat the splintered hull. “I should have taken better care, but after your grandmother passed…” he trailed off. “Anyway, I always thought I’d fix her up one day, but I guess it’s up to one of you to restore her to her former glory.”

“Is that a hint?” Aidan asked, shooting him a sideways glance. Earl could be sneaky sometimes, and you never knew when he was steering you in exactly the direction he wanted you to go.

“Me? Hint?” Earl raised an eyebrow. “Now what do you take me for? I’m just an old man, looking to pass on some memories to his grandkids.”

Aidan chuckled. “Cut the act, old man,” he said, grinning. “I’m storing it, but that’s about all the promises I’ll make.”

“Suit yourself. As long as you buy me a beer to make up for it, at the festival tonight,” Earl said, and Aidan had to laugh.

“Cranberry-flavored beer?” Aidan asked, only half-kidding.

Earl patted his shoulder. “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em… Besides, what else have you got planned?”

Aidan drove the boat back to his place, and unloaded it out front; an eyesore against the stark modern house. He wasn’t sure what Earl expected him to do with the thing, but standing there, his grandpa’s question echoed in his mind, taunting.

What was his plan now?

Aidan was used to always having a goal, a schedule, some new brass ring to work towards. Whether it was the best-performing fund on Wall Street that year, or the number of zeroes in his savings account, he always kept his eye on the prize, and worked relentlessly to make it happen; staying up late into the night, and setting his alarm for five AM every morning, snatching work calls in the car, and blowing off social events to log a few extra hours studying reports. He’d always thought it was one of his strengths, to be able to attack his ambitions one by one until they were mastered.

Now, he had absolutely nothing to do, and all the time in the world to do it in.

Aidan looked around, feeling restless again. He should be back to work: making a list of his most trusted contacts, calling up his old mentors, putting feelers out for finance world positions again. Sure, he was toxic when it came to trading, but there were plenty of sideways moves he could make: consultancy, start-ups, Fortune 500 executive roles. He had his MBA, and a decade of experience, he could be landed somewhere by the end of the month, barely skipping a beat.

But something stopped him picking up the phone. It was the weekend, he told himself. Better leaving it until Monday.

He was just considering going for a run, when a flash of motion caught his eye through the trees; someone clambering over the gate.

Stella?

Aidan was already striding over when he realized, it wasn’t his new neighbor, but a gawky teenage boy. He exhaled, disappointed. He should have known the shortcut to