All I Want Is You Read Free

Bethany asked.
    â€œThe plants. They’re what keeps her moving forward in life. They give her hope, take away her stress. They are to her what my jewelry is to me and your art is to you.”
    â€œPlants and art and jewelry,” Bethany said softly, now peering out the window, too. “Such small, fragile things to hold such weight.”
    They both stayed quiet for a moment, perhaps letting the observation sink in.
    But then Bethany added another big dose of pragmatism. “I still say you need to seriously start looking for a rich man. The ideas of love and romance are great—­but there are other good things in life that are just as important, Christy. And a lot more practical.”
    L ATER that night, Christy sat on the couch, a felt-­lined jewelry tray in her lap, incorporating an old brooch into a heavy, draping, multi-­strand necklace of fake pearls and a few delicate pale pink ceramic rose-­shaped beads. Curled up in an adjacent easy chair, Bethany perused local gallery websites, dreaming of getting her first showing. A reality dating show droned on their old TV as if to remind Christy how manufactured and plastic relationships could be—­whether or not she wanted to believe that.
    When Christy’s cell phone rang, Bethany grabbed the remote to reduce the volume. And Christy glanced down to see her grandpa Charlie’s smiling face come up on the screen. Although he’d resided in a rest home in Florida since her high school days, he was her only remaining relative with whom she stayed in contact—­he’d still lived in Destiny with her late grandmother during Christy’s growing up years and she’d been close to both.
    â€œHi, Grandpa,” she said merrily.
    â€œHow’s my sweet grandbaby tonight?” he asked.
    â€œDoing just great,” she said, telling herself it wasn’t really a lie since hearing from him definitely lifted her spirits. “How’s life in the land of sunshine? Have you been out picking up chicks in bikinis on your surfboard?”
    â€œNo, afraid not,” he said plainly. Which meant something was wrong. Normally, a little banter about bikini chicks or surfing would make him laugh and then he’d concoct a wild tale about gallivanting up and down the beach attracting girls with his fine physique.
    So she didn’t bother beating around the bush. “What’s up, Grandpa?”
    And his answering sigh worried her even more. This just wasn’t like him. “Well, damn the luck—­called you up just to chat, thinkin’ it would cheer me up, but you saw straight through me. I must be losin’ my touch.”
    â€œSo what’s wrong? What do you need cheered up about?”
    â€œOh, I don’t wanna trouble you, darlin’. Let’s just talk about your day.”
    â€œMy day wasn’t particularly cheerful, either,” she admitted, deciding to be more honest now. “And it’s going to get even worse if you don’t come clean and tell me what’s bothering you.”
    When he didn’t reply, Christy’s throat tightened. This was starting to seem serious.
    â€œGrandpa Charlie? What’s wrong? Tell me,” she demanded.
    â€œYou might end up sorry you asked.”
    â€œNo, I won’t,” she insisted. “In fact, I won’t sleep tonight if I don’t know. So spill.”
    â€œWell, my grandgirl, it’s like this,” he began—­and then her grandpa proceeded to tell her he was out of money. All the air left Christy’s lungs as he explained that if he didn’t come up with a hefty amount in the next six months, he’d be shipped out of the pleasant, friendly place he now thought of as home and shoved into a state run facility not of his choosing.
    And while his health was not as bad as that of some of the residents where he lived, he did require daily medical care. He was diabetic. He moved slowly with