The truth of the matter was that she’d never heard of a cousin until the business of Evelyn’s will came up, but it didn’t seem polite to say so. Brenda could never have been beautiful, but she might have had a fresh-faced charm before her round face had settled into those lines of discontent. She seemed somehow faded, as if life had drained her, and the classic gray suit might have looked stylish if it hadn’t turned her complexion a similar shade of gray. It hung from her sloping shoulders as if it had been made for a larger woman, or at least one who stood up straight.
“Mr. Litwhiler mentioned your name to me.” And relayed your not-so-generous offer. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m afraid I know very little about my father’s family.”
That admission seemed to please Brenda, for some reason. She stood up a little straighter and fingered the rope of pearls that hung around her neck. “No, you wouldn’t. Your father never valued his family heritage, so he wouldn’t be likely to pass it on to you.”
Allison’s response was a noncommittal sound. Did Brenda know that Hugh had walked out on Allison and her mother when Allison was six? Or was that just a strike in the dark? She probably wouldn’t believe it if Allison told her that she didn’t remotely care about the Standish family heritage, whatever that might be.
“Speaking of Jonas Litwhiler, I believe he passed on to you a certain offer I made.” She cast a glance at Sarah, as if expecting her to disappear. Sarah went on stacking place mats on the shelf.
“He did, yes.” Allison tried to keep her voice neutral.
“He tells me you didn’t have an answer yet, but now that you’ve had a chance to think about it, I’m sure you’ll agree that accepting is the best solution for everyone.” Brenda reeled that off as blandly as if she’d memorized the words. “If you’d just give me your approval, we can get on with the paperwork.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Allison felt a certain amount of pleasure in saying the words. Brenda needn’t think it was going to be as easy as she’d undoubtedly hoped. “I’m consulting with an expert as to the value of the building, and I can’t give you an answer until I receive that information.” The expert in question happened to be a college sorority sister of Leslie’s whose family owned a real estate office somewhere in central Pennsylvania.
“Well, but—” Brenda hadn’t expected that answer. “Of course, you might find someone who would say the building is worth more, but the amount I mentioned is all I can afford at the moment. Besides, you have to consider the cost to you of staying here in Laurel Ridge for an entire year.”
“I’ll take all of that into consideration.” She produced the smooth, professional tone she used when an estimate for vertical blinds came in unexpectedly high. “I’ll let you know my decision as soon as possible.”
“Yes, well, that’s... I guess that’s all right.” Brenda cleared her throat, seeming to brighten a little. “Meanwhile, I thought you should meet some people in Laurel Ridge while you’re here, so I’ve arranged a little get-together this evening at seven. Perhaps you’ll be interested to see the Standish house. Anyone can give you directions. And you’ll meet my daughter, Krysta.” She held that out as if it were an irresistible lure. “I’ll see you then, shall I?”
Allison was tempted to say no, just to see her reaction. But the truth was that she was curious about the place where her father grew up. Surprising, since she’d thought she didn’t care.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”
When the woman had left, Allison glanced at Sarah, who seemed to be pretending she hadn’t overheard anything.
“I wonder if I’m making a mistake in attending her party? It’s pretty obvious what Brenda wants.”
“What do you want?” Sarah said, with an air of facing up to facts.
Allison folded another place mat and put it on the shelf, considering the question. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “But I admit, I’m curious about the place where my father grew up.”
“Then you should go. Family is more important than just about anything, don’t you think?”
“I guess so.” Even when you felt like the odd man out. “My father left when I was six.”
“I’m sorry.” Sarah reached out to clasp her hand in an impulsive grip. “That must have been hard.”
She nodded. Funny, that she was talking to a stranger about something she seldom mentioned to anyone. But Laurel Ridge seemed to have that effect on her. Maybe small-town living did have something to recommend it.
“Seeing the Standish house might help you understand him better, ain’t so?” Sarah hesitated. “But Brenda...well, I think you should be careful. She’s not like your grandmother.”
Allison nodded. Sarah had obviously admired Evelyn, and Brenda...well, even she could see that Brenda was trying to emulate Evelyn Standish and only coming off as a pale copy.
* * *
“DO YOU HAVE any homework to do tonight?” Nick glanced at Jamie as they walked down the street from the elementary school to the workshop, where Mom was going to pick him up after her dentist appointment. The backpack his son wore looked too heavy for him, but Nick knew better than to offer to carry it. He’d already made that mistake, and Jamie had been offended.
“One page of number problems.” Jamie hopped, two-footed, over a crack in the sidewalk. “And spelling words to practice.”
“Sounds good.” He ruffled his son’s wheat-colored hair, and Jamie grinned up at him. “I’ll be home in time to help you, right?”
“Right.” Jamie shifted the backpack slightly. “Race you to the workshop.”
He was off and running before he’d finished saying the words, giggling. Nick let him get several yards ahead and then jogged after him.
Mac was headed for the shop from the other direction, and Jamie ran straight at him, confident his uncle would catch him. Mac grabbed him and tossed him into the air, caught him and set him down again.
“What are you up to, sport?” Mac plopped his police officer’s cap on Jamie’s head.
“Racing my dad. I beat him. I won!” He grinned at Nick.
“You’re too fast for me,” Nick said, feeling a little lurch in his heart as he looked at his son. One day that really would be true. Jamie would go on to do things Nick couldn’t even imagine.
“Gotta see Grandpa,” Jamie declared, giving back the hat, and fled into the shop, letting the door bang behind him.
“I’m thinking we come in well behind Dad in the pecking order as far as Jamie is concerned,” Mac said, grinning.
“No doubt. Grandpa’s helping him make a birdhouse. We can’t compete with that.” Nick clapped his brother on the shoulder. “You coming in?”
“Just for a minute,” Mac said. “And I’ll have you know I put together that model plane with Jamie last week. I was king of the walk then.”
“How
