Brenda's heart hammered against her ribcage. Across from her, Grandma Beatrice blinked, blindsided by the unexpected turn. She hadn't accounted for this.
'This is an interesting development. This young man is strange, bold, and utterly unpredictable.'
The thought circled through Grandma Beatrice's mind as she studied Delvin, unable to pin him down completely.
A smile crept across her weathered face, dimples carving deep into her wrinkled cheeks as her imagination spun ahead.
'Maybe I didn't need to push Brenda that hard. Delvin's already taken a liking to her.'
She emerged from her thoughts, that knowing grin still fixed in place.
"Of course, Delvin. You can go ahead. Besides, she has her own mind and brains."
The response flooded Delvin with inexplicable joy. He smiled—shy, boyish—and touched the back of his head, feeling a little foolish.
"Thank you, Grandma Beatrice. You're the best."
Delvin turned toward Brenda, searching her face for approval.
She hesitated. Both hands clutched at the fabric of her dress, fingers twisting the cloth.
'This can't be happening. He likes me? Has he always liked me and never had the courage to show it? Why does the universe keep proving Grandma right?'
For a fleeting moment, Lukas vanished from her thoughts. Her mind spun wildly, rewriting possibilities.
'Maybe Grandma is right. Delvin is kind. He has vision. But what will George think? I shouldn't have agreed without thinking this through.'
Her pulse spiked. She wanted to slap herself but settled for digging her nails into her thighs instead, the sharp sting grounding her.
Her eyes lifted to meet Delvin's—patient, steady, disarmingly warm.
Something in his expression loosened the knot in her chest. She exhaled, long and slow. A shy, mischievous grin tugged at her lips, curiosity flickering beneath it.
She let the warring thoughts fall away, deciding to ride the wave instead of fighting it. Summoning courage from somewhere deep, she nodded.
"Mhm… Follow me."
She rose and crossed toward the opposite door, not daring to look back. Delvin followed, his footsteps close behind.
When she reached the door, she pulled it open and stepped onto the veranda.
Inside, George and Grandma Beatrice exchanged a glance, curiosity threading between them.
George especially couldn't reconcile what he'd just witnessed. This wasn't like Delvin.
'What could Delvin possibly need to talk to Brenda about?'
He racked his memory—there'd never been a moment when the two of them had been particularly close. Nothing he could recall, anyway.
The silence gnawed at him until he couldn't hold back.
"What is the meaning of all this, Grandma?"
Grandma Beatrice fixed him with a sly, curious look. He could tell she'd played a hand in this.
He knew her well enough—cunning ran in her blood.
She had her suspicions, but she wasn't about to lay them bare for George.
"What do you mean? Actually, I was going to ask you the same question."
She lobbed the question back at him, feigning innocence while inwardly celebrating. Her hand absently fingered the jewelry at her throat. If Delvin fell for her scheme, her treasure chest would grow heavier still.
George's jaw tightened. He twisted the bracelet on his wrist, over and over.
'I thought I knew him. Is he after my sister? But he's into Jasmine. What am I missing?'
He and Delvin shared almost everything. But this—this was new territory. He didn't know the reason behind it.
Was it protectiveness making him second-guess his friend? Or something else?
"I-i really want to know. T-that's why I asked you first."
Grandma Beatrice saw her opening. Time to perform.
"This young man is something else. Maybe he just likes Brenda."
George jolted upright, eyes widening.
Then his expression hardened.
"No, Grandma. That's not possible."
Grandma Beatrice's smile faltered. She leaned forward, suddenly tense.
"Why do you say that, George?"
Her body trembled slightly. This could unravel everything. George clearly knew something she didn't.
George leaned back into the maroon leather sofa and took a slow sip of wine, savoring the moment.
"B-because he…"
He paused deliberately, watching the anticipation tighten Grandma Beatrice's features.
"He already likes another girl. From Plagatoscal Blueview Hotel."
Grandma Beatrice's face creased into a frown before she smoothed it over, regaining composure. Inside, fury simmered.
"Are you serious?"
She needed confirmation, her voice sharp despite her efforts to stay calm.
George nodded. "Yes, Grandma. I'm certain of it."
Grandma Beatrice forced a smile. Things had shifted sideways. Her plan was crumbling.
"This is interesting. Then I truly have no answer for you, George."
She leaned back into her seat, mind already spinning toward her next move.
---
Out on the veranda, Brenda stood rigid, every muscle taut. Delvin noticed. There was only one way to ease into this.
"Relax. I'm not going to eat you." He smiled gently. "Do I look like a wild beast?"
Brenda's shoulders dropped slightly. Color rose to her cheeks. "No, it's just… I'm not used to being around men. And you're not a wild beast."
Delvin's own nerves settled. He wasn't good with women either, but he'd learned to fake confidence.
"Good. I'm happy to hear that, my friend. Or should I call you sister? If George is my brother, then you're my sister too."
The tension bled out of her, a warm calm spreading through her limbs. But that word—*sister*—pricked at something in her chest. Her imagination had conjured something else entirely.
"Do you look at me as your sister?"
Disappointment edged her voice, though she tried to bury it.
Delvin took his time answering, weighing his words carefully.
"Yes. And that's actually why I wanted to talk to you."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I need to know… what do women look for in a man? How do I know if a woman is interested in me? And is there a place—somewhere you think would impress a woman on a date?"
The questions tumbled out, one after another, all aimed at the same target.
---
At Plagatoscal Blueview Hotel, Jasmine leaned back in her office chair as her father stepped through the door.
"How's my beautiful daughter doing?"
Mr. Parker's smile was wide, but weariness clung to the edges of his face.
"I'm fine, thank you. And you?"
"A bit tired."
He sighed.
"Let's go out and refresh ourselves. I think we could both use it."
Jasmine studied him—the slump of his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes. He needed this.
She exhaled, a smile breaking across her face. She'd been waiting for a call for hours. It hadn't come.
Her gaze drifted to her phone again. Mr. Parker noticed but said nothing.
"Dad, let's do it."
His face brightened instantly, energy returning to his eyes.
"That's my princess. Alright, let's get going then."
Jasmine closed her laptop, pushed back her chair, and stood. She grabbed her brown leather handbag from the desk and slung it over her shoulder.
Before she could move, Mr. Parker added, "You'll find me in my car."
He knew better than to rush a woman. He turned and left without waiting for a response.
"Okay," Jasmine murmured to the empty room.
Five minutes later, she slid into the passenger seat of her father's car, parked beside her own.
Mr. Parker had been lost in thought—dark, heavy thoughts he couldn't shake. The sound of the door snapped him back.
He turned to Jasmine, eyes warming as a genuine smile spread across his face.