Cricket went out on the porch, opening her polka-dot umbrella. “This is the coldest and dreariest February I think I’ve ever seen in Fort Wylie.”
“Mr. Morgan might be a busybody, but he wouldn’t deliberately sabotage my business,” Priscilla said, laughing.
“I know. I was being dramatic. I think it’s the weather.” Water puddled at the base of the porch as the rain came down harder.
“Drive carefully,” Priscilla said. “The roads can be slick.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll be praying for you.” Cricket cast a glance back through the door longingly. “It’s so comfortable in your shop that I hate to leave. I can’t stand the thought that it might not be here much longer.”
Priscilla waved goodbye, not sure what to say about that. She’d heard of several people in Fort Wylie having money woes—her situation was better than most.
She went inside to examine some financial statements and see what she could come up with.
P ETE M ORGAN sat on a military plane mulling over his prospects. The last thing he wanted was to return home to the Morgan ranch, but he’d been offered a million dollars to do so, as had his brothers. Gabe and Dane had fallen under the spell of money and lovely women, but Pete was harder, more stubborn. He wouldn’t have been a secret agent if he weren’t tough as steel, a trait he’d inherited from the old man. Maybe that was the only good thing he’d ever gotten from Pop. The old goat had wanted his boys tough, and that was how they’d turned out.
The oldest son, Jack, wasn’t in touch with anyone in the family. He called the rodeo circuit home. Pete had no home at the moment. After he’d finished his assignment and been debriefed, he’d had time to ponder his life. He was glad he was retiring, not sorry it was all over. He was happy enough, if any of the Morgans knew what happiness was. Gabe and Dane were certainly new men since their marriages.
Maybe that was what he was missing.
Pete pushed the thought from his mind. That was Pop talking, getting in his head with his desire for more grandchildren, somehow wanting the past to be overlooked.
Pete had no intention of caving. He decided he’d find Jack, pay him a visit. Maybe he’d become a rancher like his brothers, throw in a little real-estate venturing like Pop. Surely Jack had to be getting tired, too. Pete felt his own thirty years sitting on him like a weight, or perhaps it was the traveling that had worn him down. When he was younger, his job had made him feel very important. Now he just felt exhausted. Maybe it was the absence of light in his life—and why that miserable thought made him think of Miss Manners, the wonderfully elusive and prissy Priscilla Perkins, he wasn’t sure.
“W ONDERED IF YOU’D ever get around to visiting me,” Josiah Morgan said to Priscilla two days later, his eyes gleaming. “You’re wanting to hear my plan, I expect.”
“Mr. Morgan, I might just be paying a call on you to be kind. I could have a business proposition for you myself.” She seated herself in the massive den of the Morgan house, located just outside Union Junction. It was different here now that Josiah had taken up residence—the house felt more like a home. Last month, he’d been living in France. He said he’d sold his knight’s templary for a handsome profit and moved back home to spend time with his new grandchildren. But while he’d been in France, Priscilla, Cricket and Suzy had spent lovely days vacationing in this house, helping Suzy keep distance between herself and Dane.
Instead of keeping their distance, Suzy and Dane had gotten married, and the women’s friendships had grown stronger. Priscilla hadn’t known Suzy and Cricket as well then as she did now, and the time spent together was a memory she treasured. They’d baked cookies, played with Suzy’s kids, teased the Morgan brothers. “We never did get the new curtains done for this house,” Priscilla said. “We meant to. We were on the way to the fabric store when we saw Jack—”
She stopped, remembering the bad blood between Josiah and his oldest son. Josiah’s gaze sharpened.
“You saw my son?”
“Well, it wasn’t an intentional meeting,” she said hurriedly. “Now, back to your plan—”
“How did you see him? Where was he?” Josiah demanded.
“He was hitchhiking. We only saw him for a moment, truly. However, I didn’t come all the way out to Union Junction to discuss Jack,” she said, injecting impatience into her tone to try to move him off the personal topic she knew was painful. “Shall we get back to the purpose of your earlier visit to me?”
“How did he look?” Josiah asked, ignoring her pointed request.
“Handsome,” she said simply. “Ornery. Full of life. Not interested in talking to us once he found out we were living here. He wasn’t in the car long enough for us to learn much.”
Josiah sighed. “So much like me.”
“Handsome? Or ornery?”
He winked at her. “You’re a bit of a minx, aren’t you?”
“Flattery won’t hurt if it gets you away from worrying about your sons. And I may as well hear your proposal. I admit to some curiosity.”
“Which killed the cat, but in this case, there happen to be extra lives.” Chuckling, he waved a hand to indicate that she pour the brandy sitting on a crystal tray between them. “Miss Perkins, there are four children in the county who are going into foster care. Their parents died last week in an auto accident. Very sad.” He looked distressed.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She met his gaze. “Did you know them?”
“I only met the parents once when Ralph Wright came out to buy a steer from me. They lived on a neighboring ranch, you know, more homesteaders than ranchers. Young couple, big dreams. Wanted a country life for their children. They’d been trying for a child for years, it seemed. Ralph mentioned that his wife Nancy, had surgery that helped. He beamed just talking about her pregnancy. They were very much looking forward to their new family, as you might imagine.” He swallowed thickly.
“That is very sad,” Priscilla said, her heart breaking for the children who had lost their parents. “It’s going to be very hard on the poor babies.”
Josiah’s expression turned crafty. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Miss Perkins. I would be interested in helping you adopt the babies.”
“Me!” Priscilla’s mouth dropped open. “What would I do with four children, Mr. Morgan?”
“Give them the home they need. As sad as their lives are now, I think it would be sadder to be split up in different homes, and so on and so forth.” He shook his head. “Life is going to be hard enough for them.”
“I don’t see,” Priscilla said, trying to breathe through her shock, “how you ever came to think that I would be a suitable person to adopt four children.”
“As I said before,” Josiah said, “I’d heard by way of a little birdie that you might have a soft spot for my son, Pete.”
She blinked. “Oh, I see. You’re going to do to Pete what you did to Gabe and Dane. Tie them to women with children to increase your family name.”
