Finding Home (9 page)

“She used to love to paint.” He gestured toward the living room. “All the impressionist-style pieces in the house are hers, but she gave that up after Gramp died, long before she broke her hip. She used to love Toby, too, and I even took him to see her once, in the garden where pets are allowed. I hoped that would give her an incentive to get well, but I think it had the opposite effect. She told me not to bring him anymore.” His eyes clouded briefly, then cleared as he gave her a smile that seemed forced. “On a brighter note, the fog’s lifted. I’d be glad to take you back to Starfish Bay.”

“We’ve already overstepped the bounds of hospitality. I called a friend last night after we got here and arranged for a ride home. But thank you.” She checked her watch and stood, fingertips pressed to the polished pine to steady herself. “I’d better round up Jarrod.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He crossed to the back door, pulled it open and called out to her son.

Ten seconds later Jarrod zoomed inside. “Are we leaving, Mom?”

“In a few minutes. Let’s go make sure we haven’t let anything in the bedroom, okay?”

“Okay.” He turned toward their host. “Thanks for letting me play with Toby. And for dinner. And breakfast.”

“It was my pleasure.” Scott’s gaze connected with hers as he responded to her son.

Once again, something electric zipped between them.

And unless she was way off base, he felt it, too.

But Scott seemed reluctant to acknowledge it. And that was for the best. She had enough to deal with already. She didn’t need to add the stress of a new relationship—or the guilt. How could she be having these feelings when she was barely past the traditional one-year mourning period?

It was best to just walk away with a thank-you.

Even if her heart said otherwise.

Chapter Five

S
cott paused outside the door to Gram’s room, adjusted one of the pink carnations in the vase of flowers he’d picked up en route to Seaside Gardens, then stepped inside.

For one fleeting instant her eyes brightened. Then she gave him a stern look. “Why are you wasting your money on flowers for an old woman?”

“Brightening someone’s day is never a waste of money.” He set the vase on the nightstand and gave her a once-over. “You don’t look much the worse for wear.”

“You should see the bruise on my leg.”

“The doctor said it shouldn’t keep you from getting your exercise. Let’s walk.”

“Forget it.”

“Gram, you need to walk. If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it.”

“Don’t quote silly sayings to me. I’m too old for intimidation tactics.”

“Okay.” He sat in the cushioned chair against the wall and crossed an ankle over a knee.

She gave him a wary look. “Aren’t you going to badger me like you usually do?”

“Nope. I’m too tired today. I had company last night, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I have a bad hip, not a bad brain. Did your guests keep you awake?”

As a matter of fact, they had. Or one of them had. The one with blue eyes, sleeping on the other side of the wall. All through the long dark hours, he’d kept picturing her blond hair spilling across the pillow, the way it had looked when he’d glimpsed her before he and Jarrod had parted for the night. He doubted he’d clocked more than three hours of shut-eye.

“My guests were fine. I just didn’t sleep well.”

“So tell me what happened. You were very cryptic on the phone.”

He gave her the short version, sticking to the basics, hoping she wouldn’t try to read too much between the lines, as she often did.

No such luck. Her eyes grew more and more animated as he talked.

“This widow is the same woman you met a week ago, with the trespassing son? Is she pretty?”

“She’s attractive.” He did his best to maintain an impassive expression as he delivered that understatement.

“How old is she?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“No, of course not. That would be rude, and I raised you to be polite. Let’s see, if she has an eleven-year-old, she’s probably about mid-thirties. That’s a perfect age.”

For you.

Gram didn’t say that, but he could read between the lines, too.

When he didn’t respond, she adjusted the blanket and laced her fingers on top. “Is she nice?”

“We had a pleasant conversation.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“There’s nothing more to tell.”

“Hmm. You just don’t want me jumping to conclusions, do you?”

“There aren’t any conclusions to jump to. A very nice-looking man picked her and her son up this morning. It was clear the three of them knew each other well—and liked each other a lot.”

Gram’s face fell. “Was he her boyfriend?”

“That’s my assumption. But she introduced him simply as a friend.”

“Well, there you are.” She jabbed a finger his direction. “I think
you’re
the one jumping to conclusions.”

“I don’t think so.” Cindy’s smile had been warm as she’d greeted the man, and Jarrod had launched himself at the guy. It had all been very, very cozy.

And surprisingly, he’d experienced an odd twinge when he’d opened the door to admit the man. It had almost felt like...jealousy.

How nuts was that? He’d known Cindy for less than a week. And even if he was interested, she was a woman with a child. All he had to do was picture Leah’s face to shore up his determination to avoid repeating that mistake.

“Scott, are you still with me?”

At Gram’s question he refocused. “Yeah. I’m with you, but it doesn’t matter what conclusions either of us jump to. I’m not interested.”

“Why not?”

“Gram, let it go. Jarrod gave Toby quite a workout, by the way.”

The brightness in her eyes dimmed, and she settled back on her pillow. “I don’t want to talk about Toby. And you’re changing the subject.”

“That’s right.”

“Maybe I’ll walk if you tell me some more about this nice lady and her son.”

Despite her age, Gram hadn’t lost one iota of her shrewdness. She’d thrown out the one bargaining chip she’d known he couldn’t resist.

“Fine.” He stood and retrieved her walker, positioning it beside the bed. “But we’re going up and down the hall twice.”

“My leg hurts.” She clamped her lips together and folded her arms.

“Twice. I checked with your doctor. He said that was no problem. In fact, he encouraged it.”

She held her ground for a few moments, then huffed out a sigh. “Oh, all right. You win. But you better make this worth my while.”

He stifled a groan. Nothing short of an engagement announcement would satisfy Gram. She’d been after him for years to get married.

But it wasn’t happening with the attractive widow. Cindy and Jarrod had already suffered more than their share of hurt and loss, and with two vulnerable hearts involved, pursuing a relationship was too risky.

No matter how potent the chemistry was between him and the lovely widow.

* * *

“What’re you doing, Mom?”

As Jarrod dropped into the chair beside her at the kitchen table, Cindy licked the flap on the envelope and pressed it closed with her thumb. “Writing a thank-you note to Mr. Walsh. Did you finish all your homework?”

“Yeah.” He planted his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his palm. “You know, it wasn’t so bad staying at his house. I liked Toby a lot. Do you think I’ll ever get to see him again?”

Based on Scott’s reaction to Jarrod’s broad hint yesterday, not likely. But better to let her son down easy.

“I don’t know, honey. Mr. Walsh is a busy man.”

“I guess.” He expelled a resigned breath and leaned back.

“You never did tell me what you had for dinner.”

“French fries, burgers, corn, chocolate cake. He’s got a lot of food in his freezer. Mostly microwave dinners. But not very much in the refrigerator part. I guess he eats frozen stuff ’cause it’s easy to fix. The dinner was okay, but I like your food better. You cook real good.”

“Thanks, honey.” Cindy fingered the note, thinking about Scott’s stockpile of frozen entrees. A simple note seemed such a paltry gesture in light of all he’d done for them. Not many people would welcome two virtual strangers into their home—and entertain a youngster, to boot.

Should she invite Scott to dinner? No doubt he’d appreciate a home-cooked meal.

A tingle ran up her spine at the thought of Scott sharing her table—and that made her decision easy.

No way. Asking the man into her home would be asking for trouble.

Jarrod wandered over to the sink to fill a glass with water. “Since we aren’t going hiking in the redwoods, can I watch a movie?”

“Sure. And we’ll get that hike in next week.” Cindy had hated to cancel their afternoon plans. Sunday family outings were a tradition she and Steve had started, and although she’d let the habit lapse after he died, she’d resurrected it in the past few months.

However, while the pounding in her head had dulled, it was by no means gone. A tramp through the woods would have to wait. “I might even join you for part of the movie once I finish a few chores. Especially if you watch
The Adventures of Robin Hood.
It’s hard to beat Errol Flynn.”

A smile hovered at her lips as she recalled the movie nights the three of them had enjoyed as they’d watched a vintage film from Steve’s DVD collection and shared a huge bowl of popcorn. Jarrod had loved those evenings.

“Okay. I like that one.” He finished off his water, set the glass on the counter and disappeared in the direction of the family room.

Before her melancholy thoughts could take hold, the doorbell rang. Odd. Who would come calling uninvited on a Sunday afternoon?

A quick check through the peephole brought her smile back, however. Lillian from the Orchid was standing on the other side, a wicker basket hooked over her arm, the contents covered with a checkered cloth.

The Starfish Bay version of meals-on-wheels.

Cindy opened the door. “This is a nice surprise. Come in.”

“I’m not here to visit. I doubt you’re up for that.” Lillian leaned close to inspect the bump on Cindy’s forehead. “My. That’s a nasty one. Genevieve and I are on our way to the college for the arts festival. Janice is coming along to interpret the artwork for us.” She flapped her hand toward the car, and the local gallery owner and Genevieve waved. “Then we’re going to take in the play. We didn’t think you’d be up to cooking, so here’s something to tide you over until tomorrow.” Lillian handed over the basket.

As Cindy took it, her eyes widened. “Wow. This feels like enough food for a week.”

“Not at all. You just enjoy it. Wouldn’t hurt you to put some meat on your bones.”

As if the older woman could talk. While her sister was short and a bit rounded, Lillian was tall and spare. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her lean frame. But Cindy refrained from pointing that out.

“Thank you. It seems Jarrod and I have been blessed with an abundance of generosity in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Yes. I heard how Scott Walsh saved the day.”

Even after seven years in Starfish Bay, Cindy was still surprised at how quickly news spread. “Let me guess. You stopped at the Mercantile.”

“Otherwise known as news central. Lindsey hears everything.” Lillian grinned, then touched her cropped dark hair, which sported only a few streaks of gray despite her seventy years. “I do believe I felt a raindrop. We’d best get on the road. You rest up and take care of yourself.”

She hurried back to the car, and as they drove off Janice stuck her hand out the window and waved again.

Janice.

Now there was an idea. Pursing her lips, Cindy closed the door. Maybe the best—and safest—way she could thank Scott for his hospitality would be to try and lift his grandmother’s spirits. It was obvious he was worried about her. She could send flowers, since she’d spent the night in the woman’s house, but perhaps there was more she could do. Scott’s grandmother was a talented painter. Janice liked to feature local artists. Could she pair the two of them up? Would that make Scott’s grandmother take a new interest in life?

Back in the kitchen, Cindy deposited the basket on the counter as mouthwatering aromas drifted through the air. The sisters’ rosemary pork tenderloin, she speculated, leaning closer to sniff. Far better than anything she’d have thrown together tonight.

But before she put the food away or joined Jarrod for the movie now well under way—based on the rollicking music coming from the family room—she was going to take a second stab at her thank-you note. And make a suggestion that would allow her to express her appreciation to the tall construction company owner in a much more concrete way.

* * *

“She wants to show my paintings to an art gallery owner?” Gram stared at Scott as if he’d suggested she take up Rollerblading.

“Why not? I think it’s a great idea. I always said you had talent. This is the chance to show it to the world.” He took her arm to steady her as they maneuvered around a corner and started back toward her room.