eyes narrowed. He’d just made up her mind for her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
There was a storm brewing here. Alison could read the signs well. Wrapping one hand around her older brother’s arm, she began to lead him out of the building.
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Alison told her, giving Jimmy a hard tug.
Jimmy let himself be dragged off. “Until tonight,” he called over his shoulder.
“Until hell freezes over,” April muttered under her breath as she got back to her sorting.
“Of course you’ll go,” Ursula told her firmly when she’d mentioned the party later that day and her intentions of not attending. Kindly hazel eyes pinned April where she stood in the crowded living room. “And you’ll have a good time, too.”
Oh, no, she wouldn’t, especially not if the so-called guest of honor was there. April began to move around the room, straightening things in a hopeless battle for order amid chaos.
“Gran, I came back to help out in the post office and to talk you into going to the hospital in Anchorage. I did not come back to attend any feeble little gatherings at the Salty Dog Saloon for some pompous, would-be playboy doctor.”
She worried her, this one, Ursula thought. She’d been so hurt by first her father’s abandonment and then her mother’s withdrawal. There was no question in her mind that April had always been tough on the outside, but it was the inside that truly concerned her. Inside, Ursula was certain, was a hurt, frightened little girl who needed to be coaxed out and loved.
“No, that’s just a bonus, I’m sure,” Ursula told her cheerfully.
April set two Hummel figurines, a shepherd and his lady, equidistantly apart on a small shelf. “I’m not.”
“April.”
Her grandmother’s suddenly weakened voice had April turning around to look at her. Ursula’s hand slipped dramatically over her chest, her fingers spreading over her heart.
Ursula sighed deeply. “I’m an old woman, my heart can’t take all this arguing and dissent.”
April knew an act when she saw one and, happily, this was one. She moved closer to her grandmother. “You’re a semiold woman who likes to manipulate.”
Ursula let her hand drop, shaking her head in despair. “I should have raised you to be more respectful of your elders.”
“You raised me fine.” Bending, April brushed a quick kiss to the silky, weather-lined cheek. “You raised me to see through charades and con artists and golden-tongued men.”
That hadn’t been her doing. That had been in response to her father’s actions. Ursula’s heart ached, but for a reason that had nothing to do with medical conditions and terminology written in doctors’ journals.
“Not every man is out to break your heart, April. What happened to your mother—”
Instantly, April’s chin shot up. A warrior on constant guard. “Is never going to happen to me.”
Ursula reached for her granddaughter’s hand and held it in hers. “I’m glad, child, but that shouldn’t have the price tag you’re attaching to it.” Her eyes searched April’s face, looking for a sign, a chink that would let her break through. The girl was so adamant about not being hurt that she wasn’t allowing anyone into her life. “It shouldn’t prevent you from enjoying yourself. The years go very fast, April. Faster than any of us can imagine. I don’t want you standing at the end of your life, whispering, ‘If only I’d done things differently.’ April, honey, I don’t want you to have regrets.”
Then they were agreed, April thought. “Neither do I.”
But Ursula shook her head. “I meant about not living life.”
Gently, April disengaged her hand from her grandmother’s. The next moment she was straightening things again, unable to remain still. Unwilling to allow her choices to be examined this way. “I am living life, Gran. I’m out there every day, living.”
But Ursula knew better. For all her sophistication, all her potential and promise, April was fleeing life. “You’re out there every day, snapping pictures, capturing other people living. You can’t do it by proxy. You’ve got to do it yourself. Sometimes you’ve got to put up with pinched toes to break in the best pair of shoes you’ll ever own.”
She might have jumped from a plane to photograph a sky-diving couple getting married, but there were some risks April refused to take. The one her grandmother was talking about was one of them.
“What if those shoes never break in right?”
Ursula could only smile, remembering her own short-lived first marriage. Jake hadn’t left by choice. A fishing accident had taken him from her. But the heartache had been the same. “Wearing them for a little while’s still better than never wearing them at all and going barefoot.”
April put down the tiny glass figurines she’d started to line up in a row and turned to look at her grandmother. It was not in her to say no to the woman for long. “You’re not going to give up until I go, are you?”
Knowing the victory was hers, Ursula smiled. “When have I ever given up?”
April laughed, sitting on the edge of the sofa, beside Ursula’s throw-covered feet. “You have a point.”
“I always do.” Ursula threw off the cover and swung her legs to the floor.
April rose to her feet, staring. “What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m going, too,” Ursula declared. “I’ve always enjoyed having a good time—and I always have a good time at the Salty.”
April thought of the saloon. The men there could get pretty rowdy. And there’d be dancing, she would be willing to bet. She looked at her grandmother suspiciously. Could this whole thing have been a ruse? “What about that heart of yours not being able to take it?”
“That’s only when it comes to arguing and dissent. It can take a good time just fine.” Ursula winked. “I hear Yuri Bostovik’s going to be there.” April could have sworn she saw stars in her grandmother’s eyes. “He’s always been partial to me.”
April’s mouth dropped open. She’d never thought of her grandmother as having a life outside the post office. “Gran, you’re sixty-nine—”
Ursula nodded as she shuffled off toward her bedroom. “And not getting any younger. My point exactly.”
April paused, debating. Her immediate reaction was to bully her grandmother into staying in bed, but happiness counted for something in the scheme of things, especially when it came to well-being.
Wavering, she gave in. She supposed it wouldn’t do all that much harm. “All right, we’ll go for a little while and then I’ll bring you home.”
That wasn’t the way it was going to be if she had anything to say about it, Ursula thought. She fixed her oldest grandchild with a look meant to establish the order of things
