could only imagine how this bundle of blond dynamite would handle things.
Not very well, from the looks of her. There was sure to be a whole lot of fallout and carnage left along her pretty, pithy path.
Just one more thing for him to worry about.
One more thing he really didn’t need to be worrying about right now.
“So this is Golden Vista?”
At Mack’s nod, Summer looked around at the rows and rows of compact wood and brick apartments set against the gentle, rolling hills of East Texas. “It looks like some cookie-cutter type of torture chamber or prison.”
Mack grinned over at her, which only made her fold her arms across her waist in defiance. She didn’t want to like him. In fact, she refused to like him. He was the enemy.
“It’s not a torture chamber and it’s certainly not a prison,” he said as he guided the truck up a tree-shaded drive. “The residents here aren’t in a nursing home. It’s called a retirement village. It’s a community, completely self-contained. And very secure. It has lots of benefits for people like your grandparents, looking for a place to retire.”
“I’ll just bet. Retired, as in, shuffleboard in the morning and bingo in the afternoon. My grandparents are probably bored to tears!”
“I’m telling you, they love it,” Mack replied. “They can come and go as they please, and Jesse and Martha do just that. They have a new car—”
“Courtesy of my generous father, I reckon?”
“Uh, yes. It’s a sturdy sedan.”
“And I guess they just love it, too, right?”
“They seem to. I see them gallivanting all over town in it.”
“My grandparents do not gallivant.”
“Oh, yes, they do.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot you know more about their lifestyle than I do, because I haven’t bothered to keep up with them.”
“That about tells it like it is,” he said, but he held up a hand at her warning glare. “Look, as you so sweetly pointed out, it’s none of my business, your relationship with your folks. I can only tell you what I’ve seen in the last few weeks since I moved here. They were lonely and they’re getting on in years. That farmhouse is kind of isolated out there on the edge of town. I’ve visited them several times since I moved into the house, just to let them see how the renovations are coming along, and they seem very content at Golden Vista.”
“I can’t picture that,” Summer said, remembering how her grandfather loved to plant a big garden, just so he could give his crop away to half of Henderson County. And her grandmother—she loved to cook and quilt, can vegetables and sew pillows, make clothes and crafts. How could she do all those things cooped up in some cracker box of an apartment?
Summer dropped her head into her hand. “I just have to talk to them.”
Mack stopped the truck, then pointed toward a huge, park-like courtyard in the middle of the complex. “Well, there they are, right over there.”
Summer looked up to find a large group of senior citizens milling around in Hawaiian shirts and straw hats. Tiki torches burned all around the festive courtyard, while island music played from a loudspeaker. The smell of grilled meat hit the air, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“What in the world?”
“It’s a luau,” Mack said. “They have these theme parties once a month. Last month, it was Texas barbecue, and I think next month is Summer Gospel Jam—”
“I’ve heard enough,” Summer said, opening the rickety truck door with a knuckle-crunching yank. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this mess.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mack said, his grin widening.
“Do you find this humorous?” Summer asked as they met in front of the truck.
“Kinda,” he said, then he turned more serious.
Probably because she had murder in her eyes. “I’d advise you to stop grinning.”
He did. “You don’t like change, do you?”
She lifted a brow. “I can handle change just fine, thank you. What I don’t like is when people manipulate my perfectly respectable, God-fearing grandparents. Especially when it’s my own parents.”
“I don’t think they were manipulated,” Mack said as he pulled her toward the feisty-looking group of old people. “I think they just got tired of the upkeep on the house and farm, and they decided to relax and have some fun.”
“It’s just horrible,” Summer retorted, not buying his explanation at all. “You’re laughing about a situation I find very serious.”
“Well, maybe you just take things way too seriously.”
She stopped, blocking his way toward the party. “My poor, hardworking grandparents are trapped in this…this one-foot-in-the-grave travel stop. And I refuse to believe—”
“Summer? Is that my sweet baby, Summer?”
Summer stopped in midsentence, then turned to stare at the stout woman running…well, gently jogging…toward her. “Memaw?”
“It’s me, suga’. Land’s sake, we didn’t know you were coming for a visit. C’mere and give your old granny a good hug.”
Summer took in the hot-pink flamingoes posed across the wide berth of her grandmother’s floral muumuu, took in the bright yellow of the shiny plastic lei draping her memaw’s neck, then glanced down at her grandmother’s feet.
“Memaw, are you wearing kitten-heeled flip-flops?”
“Ain’t they cute?” Martha Creswell said as she enveloped Summer in a hug that only a grandmother could get away with. “And take a look at my pedicure,” she said as she wrapped her arms around Summer. “My toenails are sparkling—Glistening Party Pink, I think the beautician called it.”
Her grandmother’s tight-gripped hug just about smothered Summer, but the sweet, familiar scent of Jergens lotion caused tears to brim in Summer’s eyes. She pulled away to smile down at her petite grandmother. “Oh, Memaw, what have they done to you?”
“Not a thing,” Martha replied, laughing out loud. “Honey, I’m fine, just fine. But wait until you see your grandpa, sugar. He’s been on that new diet, don’t you know. Trim and slim and wired for action.”
“Wired for action? Papaw?” Summer had a bad feeling about this whole setup. A very bad feeling.
Chapter Three
Summer looked her grandmother over from head to toe. Martha Creswell looked healthy and happy. Memaw had always been on the voluptuous side, but now she fairly glowed with energy and good health.
