step.” She leaned forward and touched his hand. “Come on, Ian, neither one of us is getting any younger.”
The uneasiness that gurgled in Ian’s empty stomach ballooned into dread, then full-fledged terror. In the space of a few seconds, the innocent, quick lunch had morphed into a life-altering experience. Meredith was an elegant woman, an immaculate dresser and a skilled lover. He enjoyed her company very much. But did he love her?
Ian skewered the elusive concept and turned it over in his mind like a rotisserie. Would he even recognize the emotion if it sneaked up on him? He always thought he’d be married, perhaps even have a child or two, before the age of forty. But forty was approaching more quickly than he’d expected, and he was still waiting for someone to capture his heart the way his mother had captured his father’s nearly five decades ago.
Meredith’s flawless face lost some of its sparkle. “Gee, Ian, you look like you siphoned gas and swallowed a mouthful.”
Straightening in his suddenly uncomfortable chair, he squeezed the gray ring box and grappled for the right words. “You caught me a little off guard, Meredith.”
She angled her blond head at him. “That would be the idea behind a surprise, wouldn’t it?”
A weak laugh erupted from his tight throat as moisture broke out along his hairline.
“Try it on,” she urged, lifting her wineglass for a sip, then added, “your left hand.”
His gaze dropped back to the ring. Ian extracted it carefully, marveling how an expensive bauble could come attached with so much emotional baggage. “It’s very nice,” he murmured, estimating that two carats’ worth of diamonds studded the gold band. Meredith’s taste ran a bit on the flashy side. With his heart pounding, he slid the ring onto his third finger, then gave her a tight smile. “Perfect fit.” Dammit.
“You don’t have to answer right away,” she offered, withdrawing a black-cased lipstick and mirror for a quick touch-up. “Wear the ring for a few days, see how you like the idea of being a married man. If you say yes, we’ll simply buy me a band to match.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow on business,” he blurted, changing the subject awkwardly, but suddenly anticipating the trip he’d been dreading only moments ago.
Meredith’s eyes lit up. “Anywhere interesting?”
Although she occasionally accompanied him from Chicago to Los Angeles or New York, Ian felt nearly giddy with relief that she wouldn’t be so eager to join him on this trip. He forced disappointment into his voice. “Afraid not—Mudville, Mississippi, population twelve hundred.”
Her slender nose wrinkled. “What’s in Mudville, Mississippi?”
“The plant that packages desserts for my Italian diners.”
“Oooh, the butterscotch cheesecake?”
He smiled and nodded. “Among others.”
Wincing, she patted her flat tummy with a manicured hand. “That settles it—with bathing-suit season around the corner, I definitely can’t go.”
Ian made a clicking sound with his cheek and tried to look disappointed. “Maybe next time.”
“Why are you going?”
“I’m planning to franchise the coffeehouses next year, and I think a designer dessert would improve their marketability—you know, something catchy.”
She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. “I meant, why are you going? Don’t you have someone to take care of that kind of thing?”
“Well…yes,” he admitted, not without a certain amount of guilt. His vice president of marketing had made the same point just last week when Ian had returned from a plant in Illinois. And his doctor had warned him only yesterday to delegate more work at the office. Frustration pushed at his chest, causing him to respond more vehemently than the situation warranted. “But I think the importance of this project justifies a firsthand consultation with the company’s food scientists.”
Meredith’s eyes widened slightly, then she inclined her head. “When it comes to food, you seem to know what the public wants.” One eyebrow arched and she smirked. “How are the kiddie parlors selling?”
Glad for the change in subject, he smiled wide. “Great so far. Pizza and trampolines seem to be a profitable mix.”
“Go figure,” she said, her dry tone a clear indication of how she felt about having kids, hearing kids or just plain seeing kids—a fact which needled him slightly. She blotted her lipstick with her folded napkin. “How long will you be in…Mudville, is it?”
“Oh, I don’t know…as long as it takes to get a good prototype. Maybe a week, maybe more. Sometimes these small-town plants are not as prepared as they should be for presentations.”
Her frown quickly turned into a sweet smile as she reached forward to pat his left hand. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you finding someone else in a place called Mudville. If it’s as desolate and godforsaken as it sounds, you’ll have lots of peace and quiet to consider my proposal.”
Ian conjured up a smile and hoped it wasn’t as shaky as his knees. At this moment, Mudville seemed like a haven, a slow little one-horse town where he could forget about the proposal for a few days. Fresh air, good-tasting water, maybe even a fishing trip or two…and no women bent on dragging him to the altar.
“HI, GRAN.” Piper dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s silky cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Justine is obsessing over her wedding plans.”
Dressed in gray sweats, Ellen Falkner radiated youth—seventy-five going on forty-five, she was much too young-looking for the title of “granny,” a name she insisted on nonetheless.
Granny Falkner smiled wide, tucked a strand of convincing light brown hair beneath her blue bandanna, then planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t fret, Piper. There’s still plenty to do.” She frowned and glanced around the living room, shaking her head. “How does one accumulate so much junk?”
At least two dozen brown boxes lined the perimeter of the weathered room, stacked atop jumbled furniture. The cabbage-rose wallpaper Piper had always loved suddenly appeared yellowed and dated next to the bright squares where pictures had once hung. Stripped of its window dressings, the tall-ceilinged parlor looked half-naked and lonely, as if already pining for its mistress.
“Gran,” Piper said softly, “after forty years, you’re allowed to have accumulated a few knickknacks.”
“I know,” her grandmother said, caressing the wooden mantel. “And I’m really going to miss this old house.” Then she turned a bright smile toward Piper. “But six years alone is plenty long enough. I hate to leave the house empty, but Nate would want me to move on, and Greenbay Ridge looks like my kind of place.” She winked. “I can learn to line dance and still be close to you.”
“You’ll be the social butterfly of the entire retirement community, Gran. And the real-estate agent will find a buyer soon.”
Her grandmother’s forehead wrinkled. “I wish you would take the house, Piper.”
Piper shrugged, guilt
