a setup when he heard one, and he gave her a long, hard stare. Most people backed up a step or two when he did that, but this woman didn’t even flinch. She took it in stride, patiently waiting for him to answer her. He’d already told her more than he should have about himself, but he couldn’t seem to help going a step further. “It’s not that I don’t want to see her.”
“This isn’t about you seeing her,” Jenna informed him as if she had no clue what he was referring to. “It’s about me returning a dish. You don’t even have to get out of the truck if you don’t want to.”
“That’d look stupid, and you know it.”
“Contrary to what you seem to believe, folks have plenty going on in their own lives without worrying about what you’re up to,” she retorted primly. “If you’d rather she doesn’t know you’re there, I won’t mention it. Go inside or don’t. Totally up to you.”
With that, she sailed past him and out the door to his truck.
“Do you always leave your door open like this?” he shouted.
“Just pull it shut. It’ll lock behind you.”
Outmaneuvered for now, he followed along and joined her in the cab of the ancient pickup. Mentally crossing his fingers, he turned the key and was relieved when the engine turned over with only a mild protest. As it settled into a throaty rumble, he pulled out onto the highway and headed for town.
Heading up Main Street, he was treated to the full-color version of Gretchen’s sketch and couldn’t help smiling. He hadn’t experienced spring in the Blue Ridge Mountains in a long time, and he had to admit it was even prettier than he remembered. A warm breeze wafted through the open windows, scented with a combination of various flowers and the barbecue cookers out back of The Whistlestop.
Originally built from an old trolley and section of track, the town’s landmark diner now boasted a modest-size dining room that served up some of the best food anywhere. He’d visited lots of places and eaten in dozens of restaurants, but for him Molly and Bruce Harkness’s down-home cooking still ranked at the top.
“I love that restaurant,” Jenna said, taking a long sniff of the air. “Not only can those two cook up a storm, they were my first customers when I came into town. Beyond that, Molly’s the best PR I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, she knows everyone hereabouts,” Scott agreed, recalling his grandmother’s old friend with a grin. “If she likes you, you’re golden.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
He gave a mock shudder. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”
On the other side of the tiny business district, he took a right into his grandparents’ driveway. Well, Gram’s driveway now, he amended soberly. Granddad’s beloved blue sedan sat in its usual spot, its cover of dust showing it hadn’t been moved recently. Parking beside it, Scott said, “Someone should take that old clunker out and make sure it’ll run if she needs to use it.”
“Good idea,” Jenna agreed lightly as she reached for the handle. “I won’t be long.”
“Don’t be a goose. I’m going with you.” When he climbed out and walked around to open the passenger door for her, he found her smiling at him. “What?”
“You’re going to make her day, you know.”
“Or ruin it,” he parried, suddenly uncertain about his decision to tag along. Glancing at the old farmhouse, he still could remember racing around the yard with his cousins and climbing the tall oaks that shaded the front porch. With a collection of white wicker furniture and hanging pots of bright flowers, it invited you to come up and sit for a while.
Welcoming, he thought with a frown. The trouble was, he’d been gone so long he wasn’t sure he belonged here anymore. While he debated with himself, the front screen door creaked open, and his grandmother stepped onto the porch. She gave him a long look, and he fought the urge to squirm the way he had when he’d been a little boy caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
“I’ve got fresh snickerdoodles and lemonade,” she said finally. “If you want some.”
His favorite childhood snack. He couldn’t imagine how she’d known to make it. Then it hit him, and he turned to Jenna. “You called her?”
“When you were hunting for those quilts,” she confirmed with a poorly concealed grin.
So, the sunny artist had a devious side, he mused as he opened Jenna’s door and walked up the front steps with her. Who knew? When he reached the porch, he saw tears welling in Gram’s eyes and stopped dead. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just so happy to see you. It’s been such a long time.”
She opened her arms wide, and the last bit of his misgivings evaporated as he went into that warm embrace. He’d dreamed of it so many times, he’d begun to believe the recurring image was simply the result of being homesick. But now, standing there with her, knowing she forgave him for the mistakes he’d made, he actually could believe that somehow, someday everything would be all right.
Inside the Barrett house, things were right and wrong at the same time.
Jenna hadn’t been here since Will’s funeral, and it still struck her as odd that the dining room had gone back to its normal configuration. During the final months of his illness, Will’s hospital bed had dominated a corner of the large room, leaving space for the visitors Olivia coerced into dropping by so she and her husband wouldn’t feel so isolated. Its absence only reinforced the fact that Jenna never again would see the kind old man who’d found so much joy in a simple landscape she’d painted for him.
“So nice to have company during the week,” Olivia said, motioning for them to sit at the kitchen table. Donning a set of oven mitts shaped like sunflowers, she pulled a scrumptious tray of cookies from the oven in a cloud of cinnamon-sugary aroma. “Ever since Jenna called, I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how you two could possibly have met. It must be an interesting story.”
After pouring three glasses of lemonade, she set the plate of cookies down and joined them with an expectant look. Jenna waited for Scott to answer her, but he was too busy shoving cookies into his mouth. Deciding it was up to her, she said, “I went out to the cemetery to plant flowers for Will, and Scott was there. So I drafted him to help me out. It turns out he’s pretty good with a shovel.”
“And she’s pretty good at giving orders,” he piped up with a chuckle. “Worked out fine.”
Olivia turned an adoring look on him and patted his hand. “It can’t have been easy for you, but I know your grandfather was pleased to see you. Thank you for taking the time to go out there and be with him awhile.”
Misery swept across Scott’s face, and he fixed her with a pleading look. “I wanted to visit sooner, Gram. I just couldn’t.”
“Have you been avoiding the cemetery,” she asked gently, “or me?”
That tortured expression was back, only much worse than she’d seen on his face
