Jami stifled the smile that almost erupted. Knowing Hank and knowing Bernie, that insult came only after she’d slung a few of her own.
Bernie pulled one ankle onto the opposite knee and sat back in the chair. “Well, you know what? I’m gonna fix his fat little fanny. Hank Dorchester ain’t smart enough to get one up on me. Wait till you see next week’s ad.”
Jami shook her head. “Bernie, you’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“Nah, I know just how far I can push Hank. Been doing it for years.”
That was an understatement. Bernie and Hank had been swapping jibes for as long as she could remember. The only thing Bernie seemed to enjoy more was plotting another matchmaking scheme.
Bernie slid smoothly into her other favorite topic. “So have you heard from Grant?”
“Not a word.”
“I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you as soon as he gets back.”
“Probably not.” She heaved a sigh. “I know you always have high hopes for your matches, but if you think this one’s going anywhere, you’re wishing for the impossible.” Disappointment underscored every word, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like she’d expected things to turn out any differently. Held out some sliver of hope, maybe. And let herself dream dreams that she had no business dreaming. But she hadn’t expected a thing.
“My, aren’t we pessimistic today.”
“Not pessimistic. Realistic.” She heaved another sigh, this one heavier than the last. “Grant’s mad at me.” Actually mad didn’t begin to describe it. He was selling to Vanguard.
Bernie’s eyebrows went up, but the rest of her face fell. “Why?”
A weight bore down on her chest. She’d told Holly and Sam about going through the boxes but hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else. At the time, it had seemed okay. Now it just felt wrong, like eavesdropping on a private conversation or hacking into someone’s computer.
“Grant gave me some boxes to throw away, told me they had photo albums in them. I couldn’t do it. I was afraid he’d regret it later. I finally got into them, thinking there might be something in there I could use for my story.”
Bernie nodded slowly. “And Grant found out.”
“I told him.”
“What’d you do that for?”
“There was information in there that he needed to hear.”
Bernie leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What kind of information?”
“I’m not saying.” She hadn’t told Sam and Holly, either. That was Grant’s family secret, and no one was going to hear it from her.
“Don’t give up hope. I’ll think of something.” For several moments, Bernie sat with her lips pursed, features set in determination.
Jami shook her head and turned her attention back to her computer. She had a story to work on. A real one, not a fairy tale. And she needed to get busy. It was going to be a short afternoon. At four o’clock, everyone was going to head up to the conference room to celebrate Bernie’s birthday. The cake wasn’t going to be a surprise, but a certain flower delivery was.
Jami smiled in spite of herself. So what if her own love life was a mess? That wasn’t going to stop her from enjoying Bernie’s.
“Happy birthday to youuuuu.” The last off-pitch note lingered in the air for several moments before laughter replaced it. A German chocolate cake sat beneath thirteen flickering candles in the middle of the Scout’s conference room table upstairs.
Bernie made an exaggerated grimace. “That was a pretty memorable rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard one like it.”
Matthew, the Scout’s editor, pointed at the cake. “How come there are only thirteen candles? We all know Bernie’s old as dirt.”
She snorted. “I might be old as dirt, but I’m well preserved.”
Jami laughed. “I couldn’t fit fifty-eight candles, so I did five and eight.”
“Good thing, or we would have been joined by the Murphy Fire Department.”
A female voice called from downstairs, interrupting their banter. “Yoo-hoo, anyone home?”
A minute later, Josie from Peachtree Florist appeared at the top of the stairs holding a colorful display of carnations, daisies, lilies and baby’s breath. “I have a delivery for Bernie.” She placed the flowers on the table and had just started to walk from the room when she turned back. “Jami, I almost forgot. Greg wanted me to tell you to give him a call.”
“About what?”
“The flowers for your wedding.”
Oh, she was so going to kill Robert. Fortunately, he was halfway across the world and wouldn’t be back for another week. So he was safe for the time being. “Please let him know there isn’t going to be a wedding.”
Several heads snapped around, and Donna’s brows shot up. “There isn’t? Since when?”
Bernie jumped in, and Jami breathed a sigh of relief. She was getting tired of explaining.
“There never was going to be one. Robert made lots of wedding plans. He just forgot to get an answer from the bride.”
Her explanation drew laughter from everyone gathered, and Josie held up a hand in farewell. “I’ll let Greg know.”
“Now to read this card.” Bernie pulled the mini envelope from the plastic clip and looked at the faces around her. “You guys are going to make this old lady cry.”
When she removed the card, her eyes widened, and she jammed it back into the small envelope.
“What does it say?” Christy asked.
Bernie pressed the envelope into the plastic holder and raised her chin. “I’m not telling. It’s private.”
A knowing grin spread across David’s face. “I think Bernie’s got a boyfriend.”
“No, I don’t.” She stood with arms crossed and chin stuck out, daring anyone to argue. Gradually, her features softened, and curiosity overcame embarrassment. “I don’t know who it is. It just says, ‘From someone who thinks you’re one special lady.’ And it’s not signed.”
Jami leaned back in her chair, assuming a relaxed pose. “It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. You only know a couple dozen single men. And I think we can eliminate anyone under the age of forty.”
Charlene’s face lit up. “DJ’s single.”
Bernie gave her the look. “DJ’s eighty-five.”
“No, eighty-three.”
“He has no teeth.”
“He has ’em; he just forgets to put ’em in.”
Bernie looked at her askance. “How about if we eliminate anyone over the age of eighty also?”
“What about Hank?” Dwight said. “He’s single and not that far from your age.”
Way to go, Dwight. And he wasn’t even in on their scheme.
Bernie wrinkled her nose. “Hank Dorchester? That crotchety old man? His only interest in me is giving me a hard time. And the feeling’s mutual.”
Jami laughed again. “This could take a while. Meanwhile we’ve got candles melting into the icing. Make a wish.”
Bernie took a deep breath and blew out every one of the candles. Judging from the dreaminess that had filled her eyes, her wish had something to do with receiving those flowers.
Once everyone dispersed, it was quitting time—actually a little past. Jami retrieved her purse from her bottom desk drawer and turned as a familiar figure opened the front door and stepped inside.
Her stomach quivered, and her heart jumped to double time. She heaved a sigh. She couldn’t let him affect her like that. She was nothing to him but a pesky reporter. And he was mad at her.
For the past week, she’d alternated between kicking herself for showing him the letters and trying to convince herself she’d done the right thing. She’d known he wouldn’t be pleased with her. But she’d never dreamed he’d be angry enough to call Vanguard.
Bernie rushed around the counter and through the small swinging doors into the lobby. “It’s good to see you, Grant. Are you here to see Jami?”
Jami groaned. Bernie was s
o obvious.
“Only if she’s done working.”
“She is. Why don’t you walk her to her car?”
Jami closed her desk drawer, shaking her head. Bernie was a mess. She wasn’t going to give up until Grant was long gone, off on whatever adventure caught his fancy.
She hooked her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the lobby while Bernie scurried out the door. By the time she reached Grant’s side, Bernie was already getting into her car.
Grant held the door open for her, and she stepped into the late-afternoon sunshine. He didn’t speak until they’d reached her Sunbird.
“I came here to apologize for last Thursday. I was rude, and I’m sorry.”
Heat washed through her, leaving everything mushy inside. Good-looking, witty and humble enough to admit when he’d made a mistake. The kind of guy that could make a girl swoon. She leaned against the metal railing separating the parking area from the sheer drop-off beyond. “You’re forgiven. I know the stuff I gave you was hard to read. I also knew you wouldn’t be happy with me for snooping through your boxes. But I didn’t mean any harm.”
“I know. And now I’m glad you gave me the box. Do you still have the others?”
“I do. You can pick them up anytime.” He nodded, and she continued. “What about your mom? Have you talked to her?”
“I have.”
“Everything all right?”
“Not yet, but it will be.”
“I guess you decided to sell to Vanguard.” She didn’t even try to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “I ran into the surveyors while walking the dogs.”
Grant’s brows drew together. “I didn’t order a survey.”
“Vanguard did. I asked.”
His jaw sagged. “Talk about overconfident. You’d think he’d wait for a final answer from me first.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “You haven’t signed a contract?”
“I haven’t talked to him since the first meeting. I told him then I’d make a decision by the end of next week.”
She released a huge sigh of relief. He hadn’t sold to Vanguard. At least not yet. And if she had anything to say about it, he wouldn’t. Before the week’s end, she would somehow convince him that what Vanguard planned to do to the land wasn’t worth any amount of money. She faced him fully, one arm still resting on the handrail. “How long are you here?”
“Two weeks, maybe longer. Why?”
“I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“Put him off. Give me those two weeks to show you around and let you experience the beauty we have here. Then if you still want to sell to Vanguard, I won’t say another word.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears while he considered her offer. Finally, he stretched out his hand. “Deal.”
As she accepted the handshake, her heart continued its erratic rhythm. So much was resting on her abilities of persuasion. If she failed, Vanguard would move in and her quiet, peaceful haven would never be the same.
But that wasn’t the only thing at stake. For the next two weeks, she was going to spend time with Grant in a fun, relaxed, nonprofessional setting.
Somehow she would have to keep from losing her heart.
Grant stepped onto the wooden porch that stretched across the cedar home and inhaled deeply. Jami had told him her mother was a good cook. Judging from the aroma emanating from somewhere inside the house, she’d learned a thing or two herself. Which was good, since she’d decided to begin her two-week promotional effort by making him breakfast.
Dual barks answered his knock. The door swung inward, and Jami stood in the opening, two little black balls of fur flanking her feet.
An unexpected pang of loneliness hit him. “You have dogs.”
“As of my trip to the Humane Society two weeks ago, yes.”
He stepped inside, then squatted, offering his hands for them to smell. They both skipped the introductory sniff and nuzzled him, demanding rubs.
Jami continued. “I went to look at a puppy, the operative words being look and a, as in one.”
He smiled up at her. “A little impulsive, are we?”
“That’s what I’ve been told, more than once. But one look at those sad brown eyes, and I was toast. Nobody wanted them, and I couldn’t walk away. So here I am, owner of two dogs instead of one. But nobody ever accused me of being practical.” She smiled down at him, but something told him whatever had been said about her lack of practicality had been in criticism rather than good-natured teasing.
He straightened to his full height. “Who says it’s not practical?”
“It just isn’t. I’ve never had a dog before, and now I have two. I don’t even know what I’m doing. Although I did stop by the library.” She pointed toward the end table, where a book sported the face of a basset hound under the words Welcoming the New Member of the Family. Two other books were underneath it, approximately the same size, maybe the same topic. The words Call Alpine Vet Hospital were scrawled across a neon-orange Post-it. Jami obviously took her new duties as pet owner seriously.
He swung his gaze back to her face. “It doesn’t look like they’re suffering any. They’ve still got all their fur, they’re not limping and I haven’t noticed any odd tics. I guess I wouldn’t be able to see if their ribs were showing under the long hair, but I didn’t feel any ribs. So I’d say you’re doing all right.”
Jami laughed but continued her argument. “I’m gone all day, so I have to keep running home at lunchtime to let them out.”
“Which from anywhere in Murphy takes how long?”
“About thirty minutes.” She gave him a sheepish grin, then led him into the kitchen, the source of the delicious aroma that had found its way outside.
“Breakfast smells good. What are we having?”
“Breakfast casserole. You know, eggs, sausage, potatoes, cheese.”
“So you’re trying to con me with food.”
“Hey, whatever works.” She flashed him one of those smiles that lit her eyes. It seemed to make them a shade richer—the color of grass after a good summer rain. “I thought I would start this get-to-know-Murphy tour right in my own backyard, since that’s where Vanguard’s equipment would be doing its destruction.” She finished the sentence with a wink.
He gave her a mock grimace. “If you can’t bribe me with food, you’ll guilt me into it.”
“As I said, whatever works.”
He helped her carry the casserole, juice and coffee to the wrought iron table out back. She already had the places set, with cream, sugar, salt and pepper in the center. She settled onto one of the cushioned chairs, and he took a seat next to her. After dishing up their plates, he picked up his fork, ready to dig in, but Jami’s head was bowed.
He dipped his head but didn’t close his eyes. Morgan and Bailey sat on each side of him, staring up at him. Once Jami began to eat, he motioned toward the dogs. “Did you feed them yet? They look like they’re starving.”
“I fed them fifteen minutes before you got here. They always look like that. I think they’d both eat till they explode.”
Grant laughed. It was typical of the species. His dog Allegro had been the same way. He took a bite of the casserole, then moved two pieces of sausage to the edge of his plate. “Is it all right if I give them some?”
“One little bite. If I made a habit of giving in to those pleading eyes, their bellies would rub the floor and they’d have to get around on skateboards.”
He lowered the tidbits to the two waiting mouths. When he looked again at Jami, she was smiling.
“You really like dogs, don’t you?”
He returned her smile. “I do. Why?”
“I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the animal-lover type.”
“I am. I even like cats. I had cats growing up and got a Lab mix a few years ago, a rescue like yours.”
“Do you still have your Lab?”
“I don’t. My ex-wife got the dog, along
with the house, the car and my right kidney.”
She flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Sounds like she cleaned you out.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She didn’t just take his money. She took a piece of his soul.
He lifted his gaze to where Bailey and Morgan, having decided no more treats were forthcoming, lay in the yard a short distance away. The whole scene commanded stillness. The flagstone patio blended with nature rather than intruding on it, its jagged edge holding back a sea of soft green velvet. Cottony clouds drifted overhead, blanketing the sun, and a gentle breeze blew, making the temperature almost perfect. The company wasn’t so bad, either.
He returned his attention to Jami and the tasty breakfast she’d prepared. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“Hiking. But not just hiking. Geocaching.”
“Geo what?”
“Geocaching. I take it you’ve never been.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s searching for buried treasure. Well, not treasure, really. People hide caches and put GPS coordinates and clues online.”
“Sounds interesting.” Like an adventure. And he was decked out for it. Jami had told him in advance what to wear. He already had jeans with him, but the hiking boots she recommended had required a trip to Burlington.
Jami was dressed the same, as far as the jeans and boots, but a Michigan State T-shirt took the place of his polo. She wore the barest hint of makeup and had pulled her hair into a high ponytail, which swished at her neck with each movement. The thick elastic band didn’t quite capture all the auburn tresses. Some shorter wisps had escaped and lay softly around her face. She looked fresh, natural and downright beautiful.
When they finished breakfast, she slid her chair away from the table, the scrape of metal on stone jarring against the backdrop of nature. Both dogs bounded toward them, legs pumping and ears bouncing. When they reached the patio, they stopped at his feet and looked up hopefully.
“What, didn’t you get enough loving when I got here?” He squatted to scratch the backs of their necks.
Trust My Heart Page 10
