The bright morning sun shined through the window and directly into Brooke Davis' eyes. She blinked and rolled over, desperate for more sleep but the lingering smell of pancakes and sausage was enough to will her out of bed. Slowly, she stood to her feet and reached for her silky black bathrobe that was neatly hanging on a nearby chair. Brooke slipped it on and made her way down the stairs.

"Good morning, Gran", she said as she placed a quick kiss on her grandmother's cheek.

"Hi, baby", Gran replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh yes. I almost forgot how comfortable that bed is." Brooke tasted a sausage link and half a pancake. "Mmmmm, Gran, this is delicious."

Gran placed her hands on her hips after smacking Brooke's.

"What do you think you're doing, young lady? In Gran's house we eat from a plate while we sit at the table."

"Oh, Gran, I'm not even hungry. Usually I don't eat breakfast. I'm totally watching my carb intake, you know."

"You kids today with these stupid fad diets, I tell you. A few extra carbs never hurt anyone. Besides you could have fooled me the way you were just devouring that food. And who ever heard of not eating breakfast? That is the most important meal of the day. Now pull up that chair while I fix you a plate."

There was no use in arguing with Gran. No matter the subject, you would never ever win, especially when it came to food. Brooke smiled as her grandmother placed a large plate piled with way too much food on it in front of her. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, toast, sausage links and a steaming mug of coffee. Gran was probably the best cook on the whole damned East Coast and whenever you entered her kitchen, it was a sure thing you were going to eat. She would see to that.

"And I thought you weren't hungry, missy", Gran smiled with satisfaction as she stared at a plate nearly licked clean.

"Like you were gonna let me not eat every bite", Brooke joked as she loaded up the dishwasher.

Gran made another plate and placed it on a tray, heading for the bedroom.

"Going to feed Pop?"

"Yes. And you can just leave those dishes be. I'll get them when I finish with him."

Brooke shook her head. Gran was always on the go.

"Gran, I swear you do too much. You've been on your feet probably since sun up. Sit down, rest, and take a load off your feet. I'll go feed Pop."

"Brooke..."

"Sit, Gran and I won't take no for an answer." Gran conceded without argument and Brooke went into the back room to feed her grandfather.

"Here, Pop", she said softly. "Look what Gran made for you."

Taking a small amount of oatmeal on the spoon, she gently pried open her grandfather's lips.

"Mmmm, taste that, Pop. Isn't it good?"

He ate a few more bites of breakfast before angrily smacking the spoon away from Brooke's hand. His action startled her and the oatmeal splattered everywhere.

"Milford Davis, what are you doing?" Gran asked sternly from the doorway. "Now you be good for your granddaughter."

Brooke stood back as Gran took over. The scene before her was quite sad. Her grandfather had been the most fun loving and vibrant person she had ever met in her life. Now after a stroke and the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease, time had taken it's toll. Before her was a broken man.

Brooke had been born in Massachusetts and lived in a Boston suburb all her life. She and her brother, Dominic, had spent every summer in the tiny town of Tree Hill, North Carolina for as long as they both could remember. Every year the children stayed with their father's parents whom they affectionately referred to as Gran and Pop. After high school, Brooke had gone on to the University of Michigan and after obtaining a bachelor's degree in graphic design, she had taken a job at an architecture firm and moved on her own to Orlando, Florida. Life had been content until her grandfather had had a stroke. Brooke remembered the fun summers down south and how much she had adored her grandparents. When her folks told her of the Alzheimer's, she knew it was time to take off a few weeks from work and go back to North Carolina. Her family needed her and nothing was more important than that.