Chapter 22

First thing in the morning, I ask Eugene to see if he can find out anything more about the property boundary using whatever tools he has access to as a real estate agent. My inner control freak isn’t loving that I have to leave things in his hands, but it is what it is.

Once I’m satisfied my last few items will be quick to pack, I take the rickety golf cart for a last spin to see Grams. It takes a while to get to the closest decent airport, and I don’t want to take any chances that the cart breaks down on the side of the road on my way home.

Grams is doing water aerobics when I arrive, and I sit on the side, watching with a smile as she mutters under her breath about whatever the instructor tells the class to do. I’m going to miss that woman something fierce.

The way she has to limp to her walker makes me cringe, though. She really should be going to a doctor. I bet I could convince her to if I had enough time to wear her down. I’ll just have to try over the phone.

Once she’s showered and changed, we head to the cafeteria with Deedee and Lu Blakely. I’m grateful to be leaving her with good friends, at least, though part of me wishes they weren’t quite so susceptible to her ideas for tomfoolery.

“Any takers on the house?” Grams asks once we’re all seated.

“We’ve got a guy who’s pretty interested,” I say. “He came to see it yesterday. ”

“Nice young family?”

I clear my throat. “Um, no. But he owns the property next door.”

“Mark Palmer?!”

Heads everywhere turn toward us at her exclamation.

“No, Grams,” I say under my breath. “The other next door.”

Her face screws up. “The investor?”

I nod, preparing myself for a tirade—and that’s without her knowing all the plans Mr. Wallace has for the place.

She growls a bit. “I wish you’d just stay there, Gigi.”

“Grams…”

“I know, I know,” she says, cutting me off. “We all know how you feel about the island.”

I blink. How I feel about the island? She feels similarly to me except that, for some reason, she wants to live here despite it. “It’s not just that. You need this sale.”

Her frown deepens, and she grunts affirmatively. “That Palmer pawn was just asking me about my payment for the month. I’m late, apparently.”

I assume Sandra Barry is the person she’s referring to.

I lean closer to her. “Are you falling behind on payments?”

“Not yet. But that sale will be welcome when it comes through, even if it is an investor.”

Assuming Eugene can make it happen .

I sit closer to Grams than usual as we eat, and, in a gesture that brings tears to my eyes, she keeps one hand on my leg. I’m starting to feel terrible about leaving her, and when we get up and she falters because of her knee, it feels like a sucker punch.

“I’m fine,” she says, reaching for the walker. “I can drive you to the ferry, Gig?—

“No!” I laugh nervously to cover my outburst. Grams hasn’t driven in two weeks, and today is not the day to break that trend. “There’s no need. I’ve got a ride lined up, and you’ve got plenty going on here. ”

“Hmph,” she says. “So, you’re telling me I have to say goodbye now?”

I nod, my throat getting thick and my eyes watery. When will I see her next? I feel like the world’s biggest jerk leaving her alone on this island again. The last Sawyer standing.

“Well, come on,” she says impatiently. “Give your old woman’s old woman a hug.”

I don’t hesitate, partially because I don’t want Grams to see me crying. But I hear a distinct sniffle from her too as we hug.

“I’ll be back for a visit soon,” I promise—words uttered willingly that would’ve had to be wrenched from my vocal cords two weeks ago. “Love you, Grams.”

“Love you too, Gigi.” As soon as she’s said the words, she pulls back and turns away. She’s way too proud to be seen crying. “Lu! Deedee! Let’s roll!”

I watch the three of them head for their bingo game, not bothering to wipe the tears on my cheeks until the three of them have disappeared around the corner.

With a big, shaky inhale, I turn to head home. Cat is supposed to drive me to the ferry in half an hour, so I step on the gas on the drive. The cart is so loud and shaky that it’s not until I pull into the driveway and park that I notice I received a text.

Eugene

No luck on the boundary. Mr. Wallace is anxious to hear back on it. I think he’d move forward with an offer if we could get him the information.

I clench my eyes shut. How in the world am I going to get him the information he needs? I’ve never had to deal with this sort of situation before, and I’ll be in a metal case in the sky in three hours.

Two or three more days here would make a world of difference. I could try my best to get Grams to see a doctor, and I could dig into the boundary thing. Once I’m in LA, I’ll have no choice but to leave it to Eugene.

I navigate to my contacts and pull up Meredith’s, then stare at her name for a full thirty seconds before tapping the call button. I need to tell her about that weird email anyway.

It rings enough times that I’m expecting voicemail any second when Meredith finally picks up.

“Gemma,” she says, voice full of surprise.

“Hi, Meredith. How are you?”

“Oh, you know. Hanging in there.”

I cock a brow. That’s a very un-Meredith answer. She’s not the type to bare her soul, though, and we don’t have the sort of relationship where I feel like I can ask a follow-up question. “So, I realize it’s Sunday, and I hate to do this on any day of the week, but I have a few loose ends I feel the need to tie up before coming back home. I know I’ve already delayed once, but I was wondering if you guys would be okay if I come back on Wednesday instead of tomorrow?”

The silence on the other end is deafening. And so long.

“Meredith?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

And yet still not saying anything. “You know what? Never mind. I think I can manage things from th?—”

“Gemma.”

I go quiet, bracing for her to tell me she’s fed up with my sudden inordinate use of vacation time.

She blows out a breath. “I was going to talk to you about this first thing tomorrow morning when you got to the office, but…” Another big breath. “Things aren’t good here.”

My chest tightens. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“This isn’t public knowledge yet, so please keep it to yourself, okay? ”

“Okay…”

“Our CEO has been engaging in seriously unethical behavior—pay-for-play type stuff, plus embezzlement and a laundry list of other things. I’ve been running around trying to do damage control for the past week and a half, but it’s not enough. More just keeps coming out. The story will be all over the news within a couple of days. I don’t see a way Insight survives it. So…take all the time you need, because I don’t think any of us will have jobs in a week anyway.”

Even amidst the nausea roiling in my stomach, my mind flits to the email I got from my client yesterday. “Harper & Flint emailed me yesterday telling me what a pleasure it’s been to work with me. Did they already know?”

“They were one of the clients who first tipped off the journalist heading up the story.”

The line goes quiet as I try to process it all. Insight is going under. I’m losing my job. Everything I’ve worked toward for years is going up in smoke because of something I have no control over.

“I’m so sorry, Gemma,” Meredith says.

“Me too.” But I’m not the only one suffering here. Meredith has worked at Insight even longer than I have. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I wish there was anything any of us could do. I had hope at one point that it might all blow over, but like I said, it was just the tip of the iceberg. And now that everything’s coming out? Word is already starting to spread amongst our clients, and they’re dropping like flies. This isn’t the type of storm we can hunker down and weather, unfortunately.”

It goes quiet again.

“It goes without saying, of course, that I’m here for a reference whenever you need me.”

“Thanks. ”

“I’ll be in touch in the next couple of days with more details.”

The line clicks off, but I keep the phone next to my ear, staring at Grams’s garage until my eyes force me to blink.