Love on Lavender Island (A Lavender Island Novel Book 2) by Lauren Christopher Page B

moves, then popped open her laptop. She was eager to get going on her renovation.
    She was also nervous about seeing Adam again. But since he’d seemed busy with his own work this morning—she’d watched him head out to the stables when she glanced out the window while unrolling her yoga mat this morning—she decided to just stay focused on her own work and keep her head in the game.
    First, she needed to chat with her mother. The fact that her mom wasn’t calling yet was good. It meant she trusted that Paige was doing fine. Which had bought Paige another twenty-four hours without having to get on the phone and mention Adam’s name. Ginger Grant was amazing at reading her daughters, especially when it came to men, and Paige was afraid of what her voice would reveal when she gave her mom a rundown.
    Not only that, but she didn’t want her mom to read into her possible failure to get Adam to agree to the Dorothy Silver sale. Even if he didn’t agree, she thought she might be able to at least get use of the meadow for the gazebo, but she didn’t want to get her mom involved in the tug-of-war. She’d handle it on her own.
    She piled her hardware supplies and groceries into her golf cart, then puttered across the property. As soon as she got everything set up, she grabbed her phone and sat at Gram’s dining table.
    “Mom? How are you? I haven’t heard from you for a few days.”
    “Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I spent last night in the hospital.”
    “What?”
    “Now, dear, it’s nothing. Mrs. Terrimore from next door took me. It was fine. They monitored my heart rate and did an EKG and made sure everything was—”
    “An EKG?”
    “Paige, please. It’s fine. I’m fine. Now, how are you? How is everything going there with the esteemed young Mr. Mason?”
    Paige winced at her mom’s judgment. Ever since they’d come up with this plan, she’d been calling Adam that, when she wasn’t directly warning and reminding Paige about his jail terms.
    “It’s . . . fine. Wait—was this the same type of test they took last time?”
    “It was different. So what’s he like?” Paige could practically hear her mom’s long fingernails impatiently drumming the kitchen table.
    “Different how?”
    “Paige, please. I’m fine. I’m the mom and you’re the daughter. You are not supposed to worry about me. I have lots of friends here taking care of me, and I promise to tell you if anything serious comes up. Now tell me about him.”
    Paige made a mental note to have a talk with her mother’s doctors as soon as she returned. Obviously she’d never get the real story from her mom. The doctors had taken an EKG once before, when the chemo treatments had first begun, but it worried her that they were taking another.
    “What’s he like?” Ginger pressed again.
    Paige tried to turn her attention back to defending the boy her mother never knew she’d crushed on so hard. If Ginger had known, she’d have used it in their constant arguments regarding all the bad decisions Paige had made.
    “He’s . . . not like I remembered.” It was the only thing she could think to say. She knew that too many adjectives would give her away.
    “Paige.” Her mother’s voice held the timbre of warning. Paige could picture her, her silky auburn bob shimmering. It was a wig she began to wear after the first couple courses of chemo, but it almost exactly resembled her real hair from before. She habitually reached up when she was nervous, pushing a few strands back with the tips of her narrow, French-manicured fingers. “I hear something in your voice.”
    Paige pressed her lips together. She knew her mom would read things into this. “Mom, it’s fine. Tell me more about why you went to the hospital. Was it your legs? Were they checking for blood clots?”
    “First tell me about Adam.”
    Paige was trapped. She tried to think of vague descriptions. “He’s . . . uh . . . tall . Polite. Smart. He has a loyal staff up here,