“Thank you, sir.”

He walked with Grace through the next door, into the house, and he stopped inside the massive foyer with marble mosaic floor, wide curving staircase and huge formal sitting room opposite the staircase. He looked around in awe.

Winnie was four steps up the stairs, grasping the rail on one side, Virginia on the other, Mikhail close behind her. Then she stumbled back a step and Mikhail steadied her. Troy gasped and whispered, “Jesus.” He left the suitcases where they sat and went to them.

“Winnie, here,” he said, brushing Virginia out of the way. “Let’s do this, it’s safer.” He swept her up in his arms and told Virginia to lead the way.

“Leave those bags, Gracie. I’ll come back for them.”

But she followed him, pulling her own bag up the stairs. It made her so proud, the way he stepped up to the plate and carried Winnie to her bedroom. He asked her where she’d like him to put her down and she pointed to the chair beside the veranda. He even bent over and moved the footstool for her feet.

“Thank you, dear boy,” she said.

He glanced around the room briefly, and his eyes settled on the big four-poster bed. “Winnie, you’re not going to be able to get in and out of that bed by yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay in the adjoining room,” Virginia said. “I’ll be able to help her.”

“It was where I stayed when my husband was ill,” Winnie said. “Grace?” she called, looking past Troy to where Grace stood in the doorway. “Grace, I’m so tired. I might have to miss dinner. I hope you won’t be offended.”

“Of course not. Let me put my suitcase away and I’ll come and help you undress and get into bed.”

“Virginia can help me—”

“Let me, Mama. I’ll be right back. Troy, let me show you where we’re going to be.”

“I’ll bring up your luggage, Winnie,” he said. “It’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

Grace led the way down the hall to the room that was hers when she lived in this house. She was a little surprised—not a thing had been changed. It looked the same as the day she left. Out of curiosity she opened the walk-in closet and everything was there. She’d even left a comb and brush on the dressing table in the attached bathroom. She hadn’t exactly expected Winnie to turn it into a sewing room or anything, but this was almost a shrine. There was a special case for her trophies, medals and ribbons. And there were many.

“Will you be comfortable in here with me?” she asked Troy.

“Will it upset your mother?” he asked. “Us sharing a bed?”

“I hope not, because I can’t have it any other way. Seriously? I think she knows I’m no longer a child. She’s not a prude.”

“If you’re sure...”

She left her suitcase standing by the closet door. “I’m sure. I’m going to go help her get comfortable and into that bed. Thanks for offering to bring up her bags. Then you can poke around.”

“I might get lost. Grace, I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. At least not since I toured Hearst Castle.”

“Come on, it’s not that big. I think it’s under ten thousand square feet.”

“Right. Four houses. I should take a whistle in case I need to be rescued.”

“Don’t tease me about it, okay? I know it’s a lot of house.”

“I can see how something this big can be overpowering,” he said, looking around her bedroom. “I think it’s hilarious that you live in that little loft.”

“And love it,” she said. She got up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for carrying Winnie up the stairs. That was very gallant.”

“I saw a broken hip in her future if I didn’t. I’ll go get her luggage.”

“When the driver is here, he handles things like that. But he probably hasn’t even hit Eureka yet.”

“Well, you’ve got me. Maybe I’ll come in handy.”

* * *

Grace and Troy had their dinner in the kitchen. A caterer delivered and served gumbo, linguini, bread, tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella. Virginia took Winnie a tray and Mikhail joined her, leaving Troy and Grace alone.

They ate in silence while the caterer closed up containers and left them on the work island in the big kitchen to be placed in the refrigerator after they’d cooled. When she left, Grace put down her spoon. “This place isn’t going to work for my mother,” she said. “I admit, I was being a little selfish when I said we should find her a place near Thunder Point—I didn’t want to leave my shop, you, my friends...I knew this house was too big, the furniture and stairs difficult for an invalid, but until now I didn’t realize how right I was. This isn’t a good place for her now.” She shook her head. “If she doesn’t fall getting in or out of that bed...”

“You can’t leave her here without nursing help,” Troy said.

“I won’t. Virginia knows everyone. She’s like a personal concierge. That’s part of her job, knowing where to look, who to call.”

“Tell me what you’d like me to do while I’m here,” he said.

“I don’t know. I’ll spend tomorrow with Virginia and my mother. We have to pull together a plan. I better call Ray Anne and see if she’s making progress. This is more urgent than I realized.”

“Gracie, this is all going to be yours,” he said. “What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to figure that out. And then I’m going home, where there’s a life that’s not bigger than life.”

“Really, I don’t know how you can leave this.”

“Do you want it, Troy? All this house, all the upkeep, maintenance, work? All the space? All the responsibility? All the people?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “But, Gracie, it’s damned intimidating.”

“In what way?” she asked.

He was quiet for a second. “If you have all this, what more could you possibly need? What could I ever give you that you don’t already have ten of?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

* * *

Grace had to take on a house she’d never known, not really. It had never been her burden to make sure it was cared for or staffed—that had been something women like Winnie were bred and raised to do. And Winnie was dying.

No matter how much Winnie might want to be in charge, it was no longer practical. Virginia called Winnie’s neurologist, the man who initially diagnosed her almost four years earlier. Dr. Halstead came to the house in the late afternoon the very next day. Grace understood that house calls were not typical for him, but he’d known Winnie long before she needed his medical expertise—they had served together on several charity boards over the years. He confirmed that Winnie had hobbled along with her disease for longer than was typical; now it was a matter of finding a team who could help manage her quality of life. When asked how long that life might last, his prognosis wasn’t positive. It could be as short as a few months, as long as a year but more likely something in between. Now it was down to staying comfortable and taking advantage of her mental acuity, which would probably be the last to fail.