They’d been the best six months of my life.
The dining room was a large, airy space with murals of seascapes and landscapes on the walls. There were about a dozen round tables, but only a fraction of them were occupied.
Granddad’s table was next to a window that looked out onto the garden. From where he sat, he had a view of the paved walkway that wound its way through masses of flowers. Benches were placed at strategic spots so the occupants of Promise Hospice could rest when they needed to and still enjoy the landscaping. Whoever had been hired to plot out that space had done an amazing job.
“Maybe I’ll look into classes in landscape and garden design,” I murmured to Hyde.
“If that’s what you’d like.” As we crossed the floor to join my grandfather and my brother, I could feel the warmth of his palm on my lower back.