a rancher than a corporate executive.”
Brett couldn’t help but laugh. “My board of directors would probably agree with you. They’re always harping at me to improve my image. They’d prefer I wore starched shirts and three-piece suits.” He wagged his head regretfully. “Unfortunately, that’s not my style. I’m more comfortable in jeans and boots.”
“Ned was that way,” Gayla replied thoughtfully. “Always thumbing his nose at convention.”
Brett frowned at the comparison.
“He caught a lot of flak from the people of the town when he brought me here. There was quite a bit of gossip.”
And no wonder! Brett agreed silently. An old man taking in a young girl more than half his age? Yeah, there was plenty of room for gossip in that arrangement.
His grandfather’s relationship with Gayla was really no concern of his—or so Brett tried to tell himself. But for some reason, he couldn’t seem to shake the need to know if she was really in fact the old man’s mistress. “Did it bother you?” he asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.
“Some.” She smiled sadly, remembering. “But I was accustomed to being the topic of town gossip. Ned, he didn’t give a darn what they thought. Once a group of concerned citizens came here and lectured him on appearances and his moral responsibilities as a leader in the community. He told them they could all go to hell.”
Good for him, Brett applauded silently, then quickly squelched the traitorous thought. He wouldn’t think kind thoughts of the man who had made his own mother’s life a living hell.
“So you weren’t his mistress?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
Slowly she turned her gaze on him. That he’d insulted her was obvious in the lift of her chin, the ice that chilled her reply. “No, but it certainly didn’t stop the talk.”
Brett felt a stab of regret for the callous question, but knew it was too late to take it back. Hoping to change the subject to a less invasive one, he asked, “How did you end up as innkeeper at Parker House?”
Gayla’s chest rose and fell in a deep, shuddering breath. She turned her gaze back to the fire. “It’s a long story.”
Brett lifted his hands. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She stared at the fire in silence for so long, Brett decided that she wasn’t going to answer his question. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “My family moved around a lot when I was growing up. There were so many of us, and Mother, well, she had a knack for picking the most worthless men for husbands. Each time she married, she promised us that this man would take care of us, that we’d have a home and food and clothes. But they usually ended up taking more than they gave. Wherever we lived, Mother would usually get a job as a waitress or a cook, but with so many of us, what she made was never enough. So we pretty much depended on the kindness and generosity of the townspeople where we lived for our needs. At least we did until we’d worn out our welcome and they ran us out of town.”
Brett heard the embarrassment in her voice, the humiliation, but more, he heard the pride that made accepting charity difficult for Gayla.
“Just before school started, my senior year,” she continued, “we moved to Braesburg and I got a job as a clerk in Ned’s hardware store downtown. Things were going great for us. Mother had married again, husband number six, and we had a little house on the edge of town within walking distance of the schools. But then her husband got laid off and we had to move again. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to finish the school year and graduate from Braesburg High.
“Ned knew how much I hated moving, so he went to my mother and stepfather and asked if they’d make Ned legal guardian for me, and allow me to live in the carriage house here at Parker House until school was out.”
Brett frowned, thinking of his mother. The old man had kicked out his own daughter, but taken in Gayla, a stranger. The irony of that didn’t escape him. “And they agreed?”
“Yes. I was just one less mouth to feed.”
Brett could see that Gayla held no ill feelings about the arrangement. “But that was years ago and you’re still here.”
“Yes, I know. After I finished school, I didn’t want to leave. I loved it here. Mr. Parker offered me a full-time job and I worked for him for about three more years. Then he got sick and had to close the store. I couldn’t leave then-not when he didn’t have anyone to look after him—so I stayed on as his housekeeper and nurse.”
“For the same salary, I hope.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t accept his money. After all, he provided me a home and never asked anything of me in return.”
Brett couldn’t decide if she was that foolish or that kind, but either way he figured Ned had come out ahead. “What about the bed-and-breakfast? How did that come about?”
“Need. Mr. Parker’s business had been on the decline for years before he was forced by his health to close it down. Bills had stacked up and he was having a hard time making ends meet.”
“Why didn’t he just sell the place?”
“Mr. Parker would never sell Parker House,” she said adamantly. “Turning it into a bed-and-breakfast offered us income without sacrificing the house.”
Brett snorted. “Stubborn old cuss, if you ask me. He should have sold the property.”
“Yes, he was stubborn, all right. But Parker House meant more to him than the money it would bring. It was his home. And in a way, mine, too.”
To Brett’s way of thinking, Ned Parker was a fool, and Gayla a bigger one for going along with him. He turned to tell her just that, but stopped when he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. As he watched, the tears brimmed over her eyelids and streaked down her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed that he’d made her cry again. He lifted a hand to cover hers. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Heat from her hand seeped through his fingers, setting every nerve ending in his body to pulsing. Quickly, he snatched his hand back.
Unaware of the effect she had on him, she shook her head. “No. What you said is true. Ned Parker was a stubborn old cuss. But I loved him,” she said, her voice hitching. She turned to face Brett fully, tears streaming down her face. “He offered me what I’d always dreamed of. A home. Family and roots. And now he’s gone.”
Her tears grew in intensity until her shoulders racked with heartbreaking sobs. Brett felt wholly responsible, for he was the one who’d dredged up the memories by delving into her past. He knelt in front of her chair, but he kept his hands glued to his thighs, reluctant to touch her again.
“Gayla, I’m sorry,” he said, for those were the only words of comfort he knew to offer. A wisp of hair blocked his view of her face. Careful not to touch her, he caught it and tucked it behind her ear. “Please, don’t cry,” he begged her.
Brett couldn’t stand the sight of her suffering any longer. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest. His eyes widened in surprise when, on a broken sob, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his cheek. She clung to him like he
