Finding Home

by Irene Hannon

  Gram’s face fell. “Was he her boyfriend?”

  “That’s my assumption. But she introduced him simply as a friend.”

  “Well, there you are.” She jabbed a finger his direction. “I think you’re the one jumping to conclusions.”

  “I don’t think so.” Cindy’s smile had been warm as she’d greeted the man, and Jarrod had launched himself at the guy. It had all been very, very cozy.

  And surprisingly, he’d experienced an odd twinge when he’d opened the door to admit the man. It had almost felt like...jealousy.

  How nuts was that? He’d known Cindy for less than a week. And even if he was interested, she was a woman with a child. All he had to do was picture Leah’s face to shore up his determination to avoid repeating that mistake.

  “Scott, are you still with me?”

  At Gram’s question he refocused. “Yeah. I’m with you, but it doesn’t matter what conclusions either of us jump to. I’m not interested.”

  “Why not?”

  “Gram, let it go. Jarrod gave Toby quite a workout, by the way.”

  The brightness in her eyes dimmed, and she settled back on her pillow. “I don’t want to talk about Toby. And you’re changing the subject.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Maybe I’ll walk if you tell me some more about this nice lady and her son.”

  Despite her age, Gram hadn’t lost one iota of her shrewdness. She’d thrown out the one bargaining chip she’d known he couldn’t resist.

  “Fine.” He stood and retrieved her walker, positioning it beside the bed. “But we’re going up and down the hall twice.”

  “My leg hurts.” She clamped her lips together and folded her arms.

  “Twice. I checked with your doctor. He said that was no problem. In fact, he encouraged it.”

  She held her ground for a few moments, then huffed out a sigh. “Oh, all right. You win. But you better make this worth my while.”

  He stifled a groan. Nothing short of an engagement announcement would satisfy Gram. She’d been after him for years to get married.

  But it wasn’t happening with the attractive widow. Cindy and Jarrod had already suffered more than their share of hurt and loss, and with two vulnerable hearts involved, pursuing a relationship was too risky.

  No matter how potent the chemistry was between him and the lovely widow.

  * * *

  “What’re you doing, Mom?”

  As Jarrod dropped into the chair beside her at the kitchen table, Cindy licked the flap on the envelope and pressed it closed with her thumb. “Writing a thank-you note to Mr. Walsh. Did you finish all your homework?”

  “Yeah.” He planted his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his palm. “You know, it wasn’t so bad staying at his house. I liked Toby a lot. Do you think I’ll ever get to see him again?”

  Based on Scott’s reaction to Jarrod’s broad hint yesterday, not likely. But better to let her son down easy.

  “I don’t know, honey. Mr. Walsh is a busy man.”

  “I guess.” He expelled a resigned breath and leaned back.

  “You never did tell me what you had for dinner.”

  “French fries, burgers, corn, chocolate cake. He’s got a lot of food in his freezer. Mostly microwave dinners. But not very much in the refrigerator part. I guess he eats frozen stuff ’cause it’s easy to fix. The dinner was okay, but I like your food better. You cook real good.”

  “Thanks, honey.” Cindy fingered the note, thinking about Scott’s stockpile of frozen entrees. A simple note seemed such a paltry gesture in light of all he’d done for them. Not many people would welcome two virtual strangers into their home—and entertain a youngster, to boot.

  Should she invite Scott to dinner? No doubt he’d appreciate a home-cooked meal.

  A tingle ran up her spine at the thought of Scott sharing her table—and that made her decision easy.

  No way. Asking the man into her home would be asking for trouble.

  Jarrod wandered over to the sink to fill a glass with water. “Since we aren’t going hiking in the redwoods, can I watch a movie?”

  “Sure. And we’ll get that hike in next week.” Cindy had hated to cancel their afternoon plans. Sunday family outings were a tradition she and Steve had started, and although she’d let the habit lapse after he died, she’d resurrected it in the past few months.

  However, while the pounding in her head had dulled, it was by no means gone. A tramp through the woods would have to wait. “I might even join you for part of the movie once I finish a few chores. Especially if you watch The Adventures of Robin Hood. It’s hard to beat Errol Flynn.”

  A smile hovered at her lips as she recalled the movie nights the three of them had enjoyed as they’d watched a vintage film from Steve’s DVD collection and shared a huge bowl of popcorn. Jarrod had loved those evenings.

  “Okay. I like that one.” He finished off his water, set the glass on the counter and disappeared in the direction of the family room.

  Before her melancholy thoughts could take hold, the doorbell rang. Odd. Who would come calling uninvited on a Sunday afternoon?

  A quick check through the peephole brought her smile back, however. Lillian from the Orchid was standing on the other side, a wicker basket hooked over her arm, the contents covered with a checkered cloth.

  The Starfish Bay version of meals-on-wheels.

  Cindy opened the door. “This is a nice surprise. Come in.”

  “I’m not here to visit. I doubt you’re up for that.” Lillian leaned close to inspect the bump on Cindy’s forehead. “My. That’s a nasty one. Genevieve and I are on our way to the college for the arts festival. Janice is coming along to interpret the artwork for us.” She flapped her hand toward the car, and the local gallery owner and Genevieve waved. “Then we’re going to take in the play. We didn’t think you’d be up to cooking, so here’s something to tide you over until tomorrow.” Lillian handed over the basket.

  As Cindy took it, her eyes widened. “Wow. This feels like enough food for a week.”

  “Not at all. You just enjoy it. Wouldn’t hurt you to put some meat on your bones.”

  As if the older woman could talk. While her sister was short and a bit rounded, Lillian was tall and spare. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her lean frame. But Cindy refrained from pointing that out.

  “Thank you. It seems Jarrod and I have been blessed with an abundance of generosity in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Yes. I heard how Scott Walsh saved the day.”

  Even after seven years in Starfish Bay, Cindy was still surprised at how quickly news spread. “Let me guess. You stopped at the Mercantile.”

  “Otherwise known as news central. Lindsey hears everything.” Lillian grinned, then touched her cropped dark hair, which sported only a few streaks of gray despite her seventy years. “I do believe I felt a raindrop. We’d best get on the road. You rest up and take care of yourself.”

  She hurried back to the car, and as they drove off Janice stuck her hand out the window and waved again.

  Janice.

  Now there was an idea. Pursing her lips, Cindy closed the door. Maybe the best—and safest—way she could thank Scott for his hospitality would be to try and lift his grandmother’s spirits. It was obvious he was worried about her. She could send flowers, since she’d spent the night in the woman’s house, but perhaps there was more she could do. Scott’s grandmother was a talented painter. Janice liked to feature local artists. Could she pair the two of them up? Would that make Scott’s grandmother take a new interest in life?

  Back in the kitchen, Cindy deposited the basket on the counter as mouthwatering aromas drifted through the air. The sisters’ rosemary pork tenderloin, she speculated, leaning closer to sniff. Far better than anything she’d have thrown together tonight.

  But before she put the food away or joined Jarrod for the movie now well under way—based on the rollicking music coming from the family room—she was
going to take a second stab at her thank-you note. And make a suggestion that would allow her to express her appreciation to the tall construction company owner in a much more concrete way.

  * * *

  “She wants to show my paintings to an art gallery owner?” Gram stared at Scott as if he’d suggested she take up Rollerblading.

  “Why not? I think it’s a great idea. I always said you had talent. This is the chance to show it to the world.” He took her arm to steady her as they maneuvered around a corner and started back toward her room.

  “I’m not good enough for that. How did this come up anyway?”

  Scott tapped his shirt pocket. “I found a thank-you note from her in the mailbox tonight. She asked me to broach the subject with you.”

  Gram peered at him. “Sounds like an April Fool’s Day joke to me. One day early.”

  “It’s not a joke. She knows the gallery owner. I’ve met her, too. She’s a very nice woman who likes to feature local artists.”

  “I’m not local.”

  “Close enough.”

  They arrived back at her room, and as she entered she released her grip on the walker to gesture toward an English-garden-in-a-vase bouquet that took up most of her nightstand. “I must admit I was bowled over by that. Your houseguest has good manners, I’ll say that for her.”

  No argument there. Scott had been taken aback by the thoughtful gesture, too, when he’d arrived last night to visit Gram.

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind meeting her.” Gram settled on the edge of her bed, the studied casualness of her tone putting him on alert.

  His grandmother had her matchmaker hat back on.

  “She’s very busy.” He helped her into bed, stowed the walker in the corner, then returned to adjust the covers. “What limited free time she has, she spends with her son.”

  “Sounds like she’s a caring, conscientious mother.”

  “I’d say that’s true, from what I’ve seen. What do you think about her idea?”

  Gram squinted at him. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

  “Fair enough. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

  “No. I’m well taken care of here.” She patted his hand. “You’re a good boy, Scott. Faithful. Loyal. Excellent husband material.”

  The woman had a one-track mind. “Not in the market.”

  “A pity. Well, go home and get some rest. And if you talk to Devon, tell her I expect a call. I haven’t heard from that girl since she called to lament about her cash-flow problems a week ago. Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she ask you for money?”

  “Yes. I told her no.”

  Gram studied him. “But you sent it anyway.”

  Warmth crept up his neck as he shrugged.

  “Hmph. That girl is going to have to learn to stand on her own two feet one of these days, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Once more she patted his hand. “You have a kind heart. Just like Cindy.”

  Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, Gram.”

  “I’ll think about the paintings. You think about finding yourself a wife.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that?”

  She squeezed his hand. “No. Hopeful. Now go get some rest. And start putting some of your energy into finding a good woman instead of pouring it all into your work. I want you settled down before I go home to the Lord.”

  Scott let that pass.

  Yet as he walked down the hall and left the building, Gram’s advice echoed in his mind.

  The problem was, he had a feeling he had found a good woman. To confirm that, though, he’d have to get more involved. Meaning, if it didn’t work out, two more people would get hurt.

  And he didn’t want another Leah haunting his dreams.

  * * *

  “If it isn’t our good Samaritan!”

  As Genevieve beamed at him—and several other customers waiting to be seated at the Orchid looked his way—Scott felt a flush crawl up his neck. It was too much to hope that in a town the size of Starfish Bay a 911 call would go unnoticed. Half the residents had probably called to check on Cindy and then heard the whole story.

  “It was no big deal, Genevieve. I had plenty of room.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was a very neighborly gesture. I know Cindy was most grateful. Are you here for takeout, or would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “I’m staying tonight.”

  “Glad to hear it. It’s not healthy to always eat on the run. I should have a table opening up in less than five minutes. Have a seat while you wait.”

  Scott wandered over to one of the chairs lined up against the wall and sat while Genevieve bustled about seating the customers who’d arrived before him. He ought to head back to the house. But it had been a long day, and the temptation to enjoy his evening meal in a homey place like the Orchid instead of in his silent kitchen with only a sulking Toby for company had been too hard to resist.

  As he waited, Lindsey walked around the corner from the dining area. When she crossed to him, he rose.

  “If you’re staying for dinner, I can recommend the pot roast. It’s amazing.”

  “Sold.”

  “How’s Cindy doing? I haven’t seen her since the accident.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Lindsey’s assumption that he was keeping tabs on his houseguest was more than a little unsettling.

  Before he could respond, Nate Garrison rounded the corner, draped one arm over Lindsey’s shoulders and held out his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

  The guy who’d picked up Cindy and Jarrod at his house was involved with Lindsey?

  Distracted, Scott returned his firm grip.

  “I’m glad you two had a chance to meet. I was planning to pick up Cindy and Jarrod Friday night until the fog socked us in. Nate filled in for me Saturday morning while I minded the store.” Lindsey smiled up at the man. “Did you guys have a chance to get acquainted?”

  “Not really.” Nate dug his keys out of the pocket of his jeans. “Cindy and Jarrod were ready to leave when I arrived. How’s she doing?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t...”

  “Lindsey, is this yours?” Genevieve hurried over, holding a tube of lipstick aloft. “I found it on the seat of the booth.”

  The younger woman felt in the pocket of her slacks. “Yep. It must have slipped out. Thanks, Genevieve.”

  “Not a problem. Can’t send you out into the world lipstick-less.” She grinned and handed it over. “I’ve got a table for you now, Scott.”

  He said goodbye to Lindsey and Nate, watching them exit as Genevieve retrieved a menu.

  “Nice couple.” She rejoined him. “I’m a sucker for happy endings.”

  “So they’re...involved?”

  She chortled. “I’d say so. They’re getting married next month in the tiny chapel you salvaged and reconstructed out on The Point. Why do you ask?”

  Striving for a nonchalant tone, he lifted one shoulder. “Nate and Cindy and Jarrod all seemed very...friendly...on Saturday when he picked them up.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “They are. Nate and Lindsey tutored Jarrod when he fell behind in school after his dad died. Nate and Jarrod bonded, and Cindy is very grateful for all Nate did to help him get past his grief and move on.”

  She tucked the menu into the crook of her arm and gave him a keen look. “But in case you’re wondering, there was never anything romantic between Nate and Cindy. He only has eyes for Lindsey. They were childhood friends, and once they reconnected last summer, it was clear to everyone but them that they belonged together. Fortunately, they saw the light, too. Long story short—Cindy’s unattached. And speaking of Cindy...” She glanced over his shoulder, toward the front door, and lifted her eyebrows.

  Turning, he found his houseguest stepping into the foyer, a wicker basket over her arm.

  She hesitated for a fraction of a se
cond after she spotted him, then walked over. “Hi. This is a surprise.”

  Before he could return her greeting, Genevieve spoke up. “If Jarrod’s with you, I have a nice table for three available. You could join Scott.”

  Genevieve was as bad as Gram.

  A soft blush rose on Cindy’s cheeks. “I only have time for a quick takeout. Parent-teacher meetings are tonight, and I’m already running late. Jarrod’s in the car. I’ll just take two of the specials. I also wanted to return this.” She set the basket on the counter. “Thank you again for the meal. It was delicious—and much appreciated.”

  “Happy to do it.” Genevieve picked up the basket. “You two can chat while I round up those dinners.”

  As the older woman took off toward the kitchen, Scott inspected the abrasion on Cindy’s forehead. The bump was gone, a scab had formed over the scraped area and the bruise was beginning to fade. “That looks a lot better than it did the last time I saw it.”

  “It feels a lot better, too.”

  “You know, I’m glad I ran into you. I was planning to call tonight to thank you for the flowers you sent Gram and for your offer to show her paintings to Janice. I talked to her about it last night, and she’s mulling it over. I consider it a positive sign that she didn’t say no outright.”

  “I was hoping the idea might lift her spirits. I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Has she recovered from her fall?”

  “For the most part.” Scott propped a hip against the end of the stool-lined counter that doubled as a check-in desk for the sisters’ adjacent motel. “How’s the exhibit project coming?”

  Her face clouded. “It’s not. I’ve been poring over books and artifacts, but nothing is generating any exciting ideas—and the clock is ticking.”

  “Here you go, Cindy.” Genevieve pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. “I told Tony to step on it. Can’t have you late for a parent-teacher conference, especially when I expect you’ll hear positive things this year. I don’t know what Lillian and I would do without that man in the kitchen.” She handed over a large white sack.

  Cindy passed her credit card to the older woman, who fiddled with the manual credit card machine that shared space on the counter with an ancient cash register.