pride smarted, but he reminded himself Alison was happy and that was all that mattered. He certainly wouldn’t have tried to hold on to someone who didn’t love him.
Was there something about him that was unlovable? He contemplated the way his mother had acted after she’d lost his baby brother, the way his father had so easily deserted him when his mother had thrown him out. Of course, his dad had been hurting as well, especially when his mom had admitted that she’d only used him to have another baby… Still, why hadn’t he been enough for them?
Maybe he’d been looking for a way to settle down in this quaint town and he’d hoped Alison was that key. But he didn’t really want to stay in Sugar Hill the rest of his life, did he?
He had other goals in mind. To land that job at the new women’s center. Thomas had an interview scheduled in a few weeks. Getting to know Bert on a personal level would give him the inside scoop on Hartwell’s theories and goals, and the interview would go smoother.
Perhaps Rebecca would introduce him to her father. He’d overheard Mimi and Hannah discussing plans for a surprise birthday party for their grandmother. Wiley and Bert would both attend. If he could swing an invitation, it would be the perfect opportunity to meet Bert. He’d considered asking Hannah to introduce him, but he wasn’t ready to tell her he intended to leave the practice yet. If he asked Rebecca, he could keep his intentions quiet for a while. No sense stirring up trouble at work unless he had the new job in the bag.
A red blush stained Rebecca’s cheeks as she plucked the bouquet from her head. Hopefully, she wouldn’t run from him the way she had at Brady’s sister’s Vivi’s wedding when she’d dropped those cream puffs on his head.
She’d acted as if he was the big bad wolf ready to gobble her up.
Though he wasn’t the big bad wolf, he was through being Mr. Nice Guy. From now on, he would pursue his goals with a vengeance. And landing that job topped his list.
He would do whatever was necessary in order to secure it.
Rebecca and her grandmother ambled up the wraparound porch, heads bowed, voices hushed. Thomas hunched his shoulders against the chilly December air and strode across the lawn to catch Rebecca before she left. Then he would set his plan in motion.
REBECCA SLIPPED INTO her Grammy Rose’s parlor, breathing in the essence of her grandmother in the polished antiques and silver-framed photos of family and friends. She had always loved this room, loved the needlepoint pillows and china cups, the smell of Grammy’s rose-scented sachets filling the air, the scrapbooks full of treasured gifts from each of her grandchildren.
Someday she wanted a room like this in her own home. Just like she wanted a house full of kids, and then grandchildren. She would keep rose-scented potpourri in the house and homemade doilies on the coffee table, and keep pictures of all her children and grandchildren framed on the wall.
“It’s time you take your hope chest home,” Grammy said.
Rebecca’s throat tightened at the sight of the ornately carved wooden chest. Alison and her sisters had talked as if their hope chests carried some kind of secret power. Like an omen for the future. Or maybe Grammy Rose did.
Did the hope chest mean a wedding might be in the future for her?
No, Rebecca couldn’t allow herself to believe in such fantasies.
“But, Grammy, I’m not getting married.”
“Nonsense. Of course you are.”
Rebecca stared wide-eyed at the chest. She itched to reach out and touch it, to open it and discover what treasures lay inside.
But she couldn’t admit those feelings aloud.
“No, I…I don’t want to get married,” she forced herself to say. “I…I like my life just the way it is.”
THOMAS OVERHEARD Rebecca talking to her grandmother and breathed a sigh of relief. Rebecca didn’t want marriage, so he didn’t have to worry about her getting the wrong idea if he cozied up to her.
Thank goodness.
He didn’t want to hurt her. But being friendly with her might help his chances of getting the new job. Then he could move on with his life and make a name for himself in the medical world. And he’d finally fulfill that promise he’d made to himself years ago.
Yes, Rebecca would be the key to him leaving Sugar Hill.
The voices behind the door grew hushed, and he strained to hear, then stepped back, ashamed at himself for eavesdropping. Suddenly the door swung open, and Grammy Rose’s pointed chin jutted up in surprise, her eyes sparkling.
“Hey there, young man.” She threaded a strand of gray hair back inside the pearl clip at her nape. “Dr. Emerson, isn’t it?”
Heat warmed Thomas’s neck. She didn’t know he’d been listening, did she? “Yes, ma’am.”
“Listen, son, could you do me a favor?”
“I’ll do what I can.” Surely, she wasn’t inventing an illness for him to treat, like a few of the women patients who swarmed his office. He’d never seen anything like life in Sugar Hill.
“Good. My granddaughter Rebecca needs help carrying her hope chest to the car.” She gestured toward the room behind her. “She’s right there in the parlor.”
Thomas frowned. Didn’t women receive hope chests when they were engaged? Odd. He’d just heard Rebecca say she wasn’t interested in marriage.
REBECCA SLID A FINGER around the lock of the chest and released it, her heart pounding when the top sprang open. She should wait until she arrived home to look inside the hope chest. But curiosity replaced common sense, and she lifted the lid.
Dark-red velvet lined the chest and a piece of antique lace was folded over the top of the contents. Her fingers traced the fabrics, reveling in the richness of texture as she slowly moved the lace aside. A white bride’s book lay nestled there, its top embossed with silver wedding bells.
Footsteps suddenly sounded against the hardwood floor, the loose board at the parlor door squeaking. She slammed the lid closed, then swung around to find Thomas Emerson standing in the doorway.
“Your grandmother asked me to help you take something to the car.”
His deep voice spun a dizzying web around her senses. She opened her mouth to speak but barely managed to sputter a no.
He inched inside the room anyway, his masculine presence nearly overpowering the room.
“Thanks, but I…I can get it.” Rebecca fidgeted atop the small wooden stool, wishing she could shrink the hope chest and keep it out of sight. He might think she was hinting at something.
Like the fact that she wanted a husband and family of her own.
His green eyes radiated warmth as he gazed down at her. No wonder all the ladies in town threw themselves at him. “Come on, Rebecca. I don’t mind.” He moved around her, planting his big hands on his hips as he studied the box. “Will it fit in your car?”
She
