by Diana Palmer
Well, it was none of his business, he thought. He pulled out his cell phone and called Miss Turner. She answered at once, obviously still up.
“Can you go home with Miss Carver for the night?” he asked her.
“Of course,” she replied without a second’s hesitation. “I’ll be ready when you get here.” She hung up.
He flipped the cell phone shut and laid it in the empty cup holder. “We’ll pick Miss Turner up at the house and I’ll drive you both over there. Tomorrow, Miss Turner can use the Expedition and drive you to work and then to the hospital. I’ll have one of the boys run it over first thing tomorrow and leave the keys with Miss Turner.” The SUV was his second vehicle, which he used primarily around the ranch. His foreman and the rest of his cowboys had their own transportation. He didn’t tell Grace, but he was going to have one of his mechanics overhaul her car as well. He didn’t like having her as a responsibility longer than he had to.
He didn’t mind helping out this neighbor, as long as it didn’t require any personal involvement with her beyond the minimum. Still, he did feel sorry for her. She seemed to be a misfit in this small town. Obviously she wasn’t overly interested in him. She was as far over in her seat as she could get, and she did nothing to try and attract his attention. He hadn’t missed the way she flinched when Coltrain had started to lay a compassionate hand on her shoulder. It raised a red flag in his mind, but he was too worn-out from the travel and the interrupted sleep to pursue it. The sooner he had her settled, the sooner he could go back to bed.
They pulled up at the front door of the ranch house and Miss Turner came out with a small satchel and her purse. She got into the back seat.
“I locked up,” she told him. “You’ll have your house key with you, of course.”
“Of course,” he drawled.
“Grace, are you all right? How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s not well, Miss Turner,” Grace replied drowsily. “Dr. Coltrain thinks it’s a heart attack. He won’t give me a lot of hope.”
“Never you mind. He’s the best we have. He’ll do whatever he can, you know that.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you for coming home with me,” she added. “It’s a big house.”
“It is,” Miss Turner agreed.
He pulled up at the front door of the rickety old white Victorian house, making a face at the lack of fresh paint. Presumably there wasn’t any spare cash for upkeep. Pity. It was a pretty house.
“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Grace said formally, “and for letting Miss Turner stay with me.”
She looked as if it were like pulling teeth to say that. She had a fiercely independent stubborn streak that he was just meeting. His estimation of her changed a little.
“Lock the doors,” Garon cautioned Miss Turner after she’d exited the car and was helping Grace toward the front porch.
“We will. I’ll get up early and come over to fix breakfast, as soon as the Expedition gets here.”
“Okay. Good night.”
He drove off, already going over the next day’s routine in his mind. He didn’t give Grace a second thought.
* * *
BUT THE NEXT MORNING, awake and rested, he felt badly about the way he’d treated Grace the night before. He remembered how he’d felt when his mother had died; but especially, when the woman he loved had died. He remembered how sad and depressed those events had made him. At the time, he’d had no one to help him get through it. His family was back in Texas, and he’d been living in Georgia, working out of Atlanta, when it happened. He should have remembered how alone he’d felt. He’d been less than sympathetic with Grace.
So he got up earlier than usual, made biscuits, fried bacon and scrambled eggs. He phoned the Collier house and only then recalled that the phone was out of order. He climbed into the car, dressed in city clothes and drove over to get Grace and Miss Turner.
They were dressed, just coming down the steps. Grace was wearing jeans and the floppy sweatshirt again, with her hair in a bun. They both looked surprised to see him.
“I made breakfast,” he said without preamble. “Let’s go.”
“But you didn’t have to do that,” Grace protested.
He started to take her arm, to herd her out the door, but she stepped back in an instant, her eyes wide, her cheeks rosy.
He glowered at her. “It’s only breakfast. I’m not proposing,” he added sarcastically.
Her eyebrows went up. “Well, thank God for that,” she replied carelessly. “I’ll consider it a lucky escape.” She hesitated when he gave her a blank stare. “Or shouldn’t I have said that until after breakfast?”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes did. He made a rough sound in his throat, avoided Miss Turner’s amused gaze and led the way out to the car.
Grace ate with apparent enjoyment, but she was wary of her big, taciturn neighbor. She’d never met anyone quite like him. If he had a sense of humor, it must be very deeply hidden.
“It was very nice,” she said when she finished the last strip of bacon. “Do you mind if I use your phone to call the hospital?”
“Help yourself,” he said. “There’s an extension in the hall.”
She got up, wiping her mouth gently, and went to find the phone.
“How’s she doing?” Garon asked Miss Turner.
“She’s going to take it badly,” she replied. “Mrs. Collier is a nightmare of a mother substitute, but Grace has lived with her so long that I think she just overlooks the bad attitude.”
“I noticed that the old lady seems to dislike her.”
Miss Turner grimaced. “It’s even worse than it seems. Mrs. Collier failed Grace at a time when she needed her most. I think it’s guilt that makes the old woman treat her so hatefully.”
“What happened?” he asked curiously.
“It’s not my business to talk about Grace’s business,” came the terse reply.
He sighed and finished his coffee. Apparently secrets were part of small town life.
Grace came back subdued. “She’s in ICU,” she said as she sat back down at the table. “He didn’t tell me that last night.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons. Are you going to work?”
“I have to,” Grace said baldly. “Granny’s social security check barely pays for the utilities. I have to get in as many hours as I can.”
“No ambition to go to college or learn a profession?” Garon asked.
Grace gave him a bald stare. “And where would I get the money to do that, even if I didn’t have to take care of Granny? She’s been an invalid since I graduated from high school, and I’m all she has.” She scowled. “You know, for a man who wants everybody else to mind their own business, you sure spend a lot of time prying into other people’s.”
His eyebrows arched. “See here, I’m loaning you my housekeeper…”
“Miss Turner doesn’t have to be loaned,” Grace replied. “She has a heart.”
He glowered. “So do I.”
“You must keep it put up in a safe place, so that it doesn’t get used much,” she returned. She got up. “Thanks for breakfast. You’re not a very pleasant person, but you are a good cook.”
“Thank you the hell for small favors,” he gritted.
“You’re nasty, I’m nasty,” she returned. “If you ever develop a pleasant personality, I’ll even smile at you.”
Miss Turner was trying very hard not to smile. She did like this job, despite the odd behavior of her boss.
“I won’t hold my breath,” Garon assured her. “I have to go. I’m up to my neck in meetings today. The keys to the Expedition are on the key rack by the front door,” he told Miss Turner. “Use it as much as you need to.” He hesitated. “Try not to run over her with it unless you absolutely have to,” he added, nodding toward Grace. “She’d probably puncture a tire with her attitude.”
“It’s no surprise to me that you’re not married,” Grace observed. “But thank you for the use of your vehi
cle. I’ll see about getting mine fixed.”
“Most mechanics won’t work for free,” he pointed out.
She glared at him. Her eyes sparkled when she was mad, and her soft complexion took on a pretty blush. “I can trade eggs and cakes for a tune-up with Jerry down at the filling station,” she told him.
“Bartering?” he said, astonished. “What century are you people living in?”
“A better one than yours, I guarantee,” she replied. “Around here, we’re people, not numbers in a case book.”
“I’m amazed you’re not a number in a home for the unbalanced,” he said under his breath.
“We’ll go when you’re ready, Grace,” Miss Turner interrupted, sensing an explosion.
“I’m ready now, Miss Turner.”
Garon glanced at her disapprovingly. “You go to a job looking like that?” he exclaimed.
She frowned, glancing down at her neat, clean jeans and spotless white sweatshirt. “What should I wear to work in the back of a florist’s shop, a ball gown?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The women in my office wear pantsuits and makeup.”
“That’s probably because they think you’re eligible, and they want to impress you,” she retorted. “My boss is a woman and she dresses the same way I do.”
His eyebrow jerked. “To each his own. I’ll be home late tonight, Miss Turner. Just put some cold cuts in the fridge for me.”
“I’ll do that, boss,” she replied.
He turned at the front door. “I hope your grandmother improves,” he told Grace quietly.
“Coals of fire?” she muttered.
“Glad you noticed.” He went out and closed the door.
Grace felt an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. She hoped she wouldn’t have too much more contact with her taciturn neighbor. And she really hoped that Granny would get better as the day wore on.
* * *
JUDY, in the florist shop, was all kindness and compassion. She offered to let Grace off, with pay, to stay with her grandmother.
Grace shook her head. “Thanks, but Dr. Coltrain would have a cow,” she murmured as she constructed a wreath for a funeral. “He doesn’t want me hanging around ICU. I can’t go in, you know, except for a few minutes three times a day. She’s really bad, Judy. I’m afraid.”
“She’s been your family for a long time,” Judy agreed. “But there’s a whole world out there that you’ve never seen, Grace. You have to think ahead.”
She moved restlessly. “I don’t know what I’d do, if she…well, I mean, Cousin Bob in Victoria would let me come and visit, but he’s in bad shape himself and he has a nurse who stays with him. I’d be alone, here in Jacobsville.”
Judy reached over, patted her hand, and smiled. “You’ll never be alone in Jacobsville. We’re your family, Grace. All of us.”
She managed a smile through a mist of quick tears. “Thanks.”
Judy shrugged. “You’ll get by. We’ll all look out for you. Not that you need it anymore,” she added. “You’ve become very independent over the years. I’m proud of the way you’ve handled yourself. You’re an inspiration.”
“Not me.”
“You.” Judy smiled. “Not many people could come back so well from what happened. You’ve got guts, girl.”
Grace didn’t like to talk about the past. She moved some more red roses closer to where she was working and started Judy talking about the new water rates. That was good for an hour.
* * *
MRS. COLLIER was still in the coma when Grace left her about dark. Miss Turner had come in the Expedition, probably at Coltrain’s urging, and insisted that Grace come home.
“You can’t work and stay at the hospital all hours,” Miss Turner said firmly. “Besides, Jolie will call you if you’re needed. We’ve gotten your phone fixed. Right?” she asked the pretty nurse on night duty.
“You bet I will,” Jolie assured her with a smile.
“All right, I’ll go home. Thanks,” she added, and followed Miss Turner out to the Expedition.
* * *
GARON HAD COME HOME a little later than his usual time and had still gone out to help his boys with some heifers who were calving for the first time. Late February was just right for new calves, with the first green grass cautiously poking its head up out of the cold ground. His black Angus cattle were pretty, and he bred for specific traits, since he ran beef cattle. It was something of a blessing that the former owners, the Jacobs family, had been horse ranchers, because the barn was well-kept and the fences had been built to last almost new. It had been a simple matter to string electric wire around the existing pastures to ensure that his animals didn’t wander.
He came up onto the porch just as Miss Turner drove up at the steps.
“How’s her grandmother?” he asked when she joined him.
“No change,” she replied. She shook her head. “She’s holding up well, but I think she’ll go to pieces if the old lady dies. She’s not used to having to live alone.”
“Don’t tell me she’s afraid of the dark,” he laughed.
She looked up at him and she didn’t smile. “If Mrs. Collier dies, I’ll have to find someone to stay with Grace for a while, just until she gets used to the idea. Or maybe she might go up to Victoria and stay with her cousin Bob for a few days,” she added, thinking aloud.
“Take it one day at a time,” he said. “It’s not wise to borrow trouble.”
“I suppose so.” She hesitated. “Her car is missing,” she said suddenly.
“I know. I had Brady bring it over here and overhaul it,” he replied. “I was tempted to send it to the junkyard instead, but I guess it’s got two or three miles left in it…”
The phone rang insistently. He reached for it before Miss Turner did. “Grier,” he said shortly.
“You stole my car!” Grace Carver accused.
CHAPTER 3
“I DO NOT STEAL CARS,” he replied indignantly. “I work for the FBI.”
“They wouldn’t have hired you in the first place if they knew you stole cars,” she replied, ignoring his defense. “Where’s my car? It’s no use saying you don’t know, because the mailman saw one of your cowboys driving it off this morning after I went to work.”
He didn’t deny it. “It’s a death trap. I’m having it overhauled by my mechanic,” he said. “Then you can drive yourself.”
There was a brief pause. “I see.”
He bit his tongue. “I didn’t mean that I mind you and Miss Turner using the Expedition,” he said irritably. “Stop putting words in my mouth!”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“You were thinking it!”
She blinked. “It must be a handy sort of gift, reading minds, considering your line of work,” she said too sweetly.
His eyes darkened angrily.
She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Sorry, that slipped out. Just pretend you never heard it.”
“There’s a saying,” he began slowly, “about biting the hand that feeds you…”
“I wouldn’t bite yours,” she replied. “No telling where they’ve been!” Before he could react to that she thanked him again for helping with the car, and hung up quickly.
He slammed the freedom phone down into its cradle and muttered something under his breath.
Miss Turner’s eyes widened. She’d never seen evidence of a temper in her taciturn new boss. Well, she thought as she walked toward the kitchen, at least he seemed more alive than he usually did. She wondered what in the world Grace had said to him to provoke that response.
* * *
GRACE, MEANWHILE, was feeling mean. Her neighbor had taken her car out of good intentions, so that he could fix it for her. She knew he wouldn’t charge her for it, either. She grimaced. She needed to stop taking out her frustration on him. Just because she was frantic about Granny was no reason to hurt other people. Not that he seemed the sort of person you could hurt…
She wasn’t worki
ng today, except on her own little project that consumed much of her free time and what little of her income she could spare. So when she got to a stopping point, she went into the kitchen and started cooking. She’d heard Miss Turner say that Garon was partial to an apple cake, and she was famous for hers. She used dried apples, which gave the dessert a taste all its own.
That afternoon, when Garon’s foreman, Clay Davis, brought the car back, she went out to thank him with the cake in a carrier.
He was headed toward a pickup truck driven by one of his men, but he stopped when he saw Grace coming and smiled, doffing his wide-brimmed hat.
“Miss Grace,” he said respectfully.
She grinned. “Hi, Clay. Would you do me a favor and take this to your boss?”
He looked at the cake in its carrier. “Hemlock or deadly nightshade?” he asked wickedly.
She gaped at him.
He shrugged. “Well, we’ve sort of heard that the two of you don’t get along.”
“It’s just a nice apple cake,” she defended herself.
“I felt guilty for saying unkind things to him. It’s sort of a peace offering.”
“I’ll tell him.” He took the cake.
She smiled. “Thanks for fixing my car.”
“Key’s in it,” he said. “And you need to watch that oil gauge,” he added. “We patched the leak, but just in case, don’t set off anywhere until you’re sure it’s got oil in it. If you notice a leak, let us know. We’ll fix that.”
“Thanks a lot, Clay.”
He shrugged. “Neighbors help each other out.”
“Yes, but there’s not a lot I could do for your boss. He’s already got all the help he needs.”
He smiled. “He does have a sweet tooth,” he confided, “although Miss Turner isn’t much of a hand at cakes or pies. Don’t tell her I said that,” he added. “She’s a great cook.”
“She just doesn’t do pastries,” Grace finished for him, smiling back. “That’s okay. I can’t fry chicken or make biscuits.”
“We all have our gifts,” he agreed.