by Lin Stepp
Grace shook her head, moving her leg away from his. “And that’s what makes you dangerous.” She looked out toward the stream and frowned. “I’m not a woman who’s looking for an affair, Jack.”
He smiled at her. “Is that your way of telling me you’re not going to follow up on your attraction to me?”
Her eyes flashed. “I can’t deny there’s some attraction. I wish it weren’t there, but it is. Like it or not. But I won’t act on it, Jack.”
“You want to.” His voice had softened, and he trailed his fingers up her arm.
She pulled her arm away. “I often want to do a lot of things that are wrong for me, or simply wrong in general, but that doesn’t mean I have to do them. I have a very strong will, Jack, and very strong ethics. Obviously something you don’t seem to have or to worry about.”
“Oh, I’m strong willed, too. I just believe more in following my feelings and not denying them.”
She turned to send him a pointed look. “I don’t mean to sound preachy, Jack, but how can you sit in church every Sunday, have two little girls to raise and a good family here in the area, and not worry more about your reputation?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never had much reputation in that way. Never cared about it, either. I figure God created attraction between a man and a woman. If some women like to enjoy that attraction, who am I to deny them?”
Grace dropped her feet to the patio with a stomp. “That’s an insufferable, arrogant attitude, Jack—and shows a shameful disrespect to women and a flagrant disregard of all the women who really love and care about you.”
He let his eyes slide over her. “I’ll bet you’ve had men looking at you and wanting you for a long time, Grace Conley. Didn’t you ever want to just let loose and see what came of it?”
She glared at him. “Watching movies, I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be an artful thief or to poison someone I disliked, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever try out those behaviors to see what it felt like. Ways on the dark side have their enticing draw, Jack. They always have. But you don’t have to yield to that draw.”
Jack raised his brows in admiration. “A very diplomatic answer, Grace. Touché. And one that managed to answer and yet not answer my question.”
She turned and locked her eyes on his. “You could be a good and fine man if you wanted to, Jack. You are so admirable and well-respected in so many other ways.”
He winced. “Change isn’t so easy, Grace, even if a person had a mind to change.”
“I’ve changed,” she challenged him. “I’ve made some very big changes in my life coming here. Walked against what everyone thought I could and should do. And made a lot of people angry.”
“Samantha and Roger told me you almost alienated your children coming here.” He caught her eyes. “What did they want of you, Grace?”
“They wanted me to move into a nice, prestigious retirement center. Into a lovely condo by a shady park, a small lake, and a fine walking trail. To put up my feet and take it easy.”
She snipped out the last words distastefully. Jack laughed. “And, obviously, you had no interest in retiring and taking it easy.”
“Do I seem that old to you that I should want that?” Her voice had a pained tone to it, and she turned anguished eyes to him. “How could my children see me as used up and over the hill? Not fit for anything but lounging around for the rest of my life, cooking for them for holidays, and babysitting their kids? I’m only forty-nine years old, Jack, not eighty-nine. How could they see me as finished up just because they’ve grown up and started their adult years now?”
Tears had slipped into the edges of her eyes. Jack hated seeing that. He stood up impulsively, leaned over her chair, and kissed her soundly, bringing his hands up to gently caress her face. He surprised her with the gesture. She let out a soft little moan and let him deepen the kiss and run his hands up under her damp hair before she pushed him back.
“Is that supposed to help me feel better, Jack?” Her eyes snapped up at him.
He grinned down lazily at her and ran his fingers over her lips. “Yeah, it is. It should let you know, of a surety, that you’re very much alive and vibrant, Grace Conley. And certainly not finished up.”
She frowned at him. “Sit down, Jack, before your girls come into sight and see you putting the make on their new friend and Scout leader.”
Jack looked up the river for the girls. He could just see them coming around an outcropping of rocks, their backs turned as the current rolled their tubes in the swift water of the stream. He sat down, feeling censored by Grace’s continuing frown. Didn’t she feel the passion simmering under the surface between them? How was she able to push it aside so easily?
Her eyes narrowed. “You said passion should let me know I’m alive and vibrant. Not finished up. Is that what it does for you, Jack—hitting on all the young girls like Ashleigh Layton and Twyla Treece? Does getting excited physically with them make you feel young again?”
“That’s a little bit insulting, Grace. And personal.” He scowled at her.
“Maybe. And maybe it’s the reason you keep acting on your emotions without restraint—to try to keep feeling young.”
Jack grinned and tossed back a sarcastic reply. “You’d have to try it to know if it works, wouldn’t you, Grace?”
She flipped her towel at him. “Oh, that’s a typical comment I would expect from you, Jack. Can’t you be introspective and think about why you respond to so many things with sexual overtures?”
“I’m not big into getting overly analytical about things.”
“Well, that’s obvious.” She practically snorted.
Jack looked up the river to see the girls moving closer. “Look, Grace. I know we’re very different people. I didn’t ask to be attracted to you. I didn’t come seeking it. It just happened. And I’m having a real awkward time trying to figure out what to do with what I feel about you. Is that analytical enough to suit you?”
He paused to study her. “You can’t deny you’re attracted to me, Grace, and have physical feelings toward me—even if you don’t want to admit them easily. I’m not sure why all this has kicked up between us. You haven’t wanted it. And neither have I. But it’s there.” He grabbed her wrist. “And getting nasty and insulting toward me will hardly make your feelings go away, Grace.”
She winced. “Well spoken, Jack. And I deserved that. I have been a little tactless in the way I’ve talked to you. You have a right to live your life as you wish, after all. My view about it isn’t that important.”
He stood up to wave to the girls as they drew closer to the patio of the Mimosa. “You’re wrong there, Grace Conley.” He looked down into her silvery eyes. “I’ve come to care rather too much about your view of me. And it’s a real new experience for me, I can tell you.”
Jack saw her eyes widen in surprise before he walked down the steps to haul his girls out of the river. They joined him and Grace chattering happily then, unaware of the stirred-up emotions still swirling around in the air.
As Jack listened to their young voices, he saw a shadow move in the trees at the edge of Grace’s property. He tensed immediately. But it was only a squirrel when he looked closer.
The moment reminded him of why he’d come looking for his girls originally. Seeing Grace coming up out of the water like a sultry mermaid had wiped all thought of Crazy Man and the morning’s problems right out of Jack’s mind.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “There’s been another incident with Crazy Man,” he told them, finding a break in the girls’ chatter. “And I need to talk to you about it.”
Jack told them then about Ruby’s going skinny-dipping, and about Crazy Man’s obviously seeing her and then leaving Sam and Roger a warning about the incident this morning. Jack saw the anxious panic in Grace’s eyes, which she was wise enough not to express. He talked candidly to the girls about how they needed to be more careful until the man was found.
Meredith looked th
oughtful then. “Daddy, do you think this man is bad and that he might try to hurt Ruby?”
Jack saw the edge of fear in her eyes and sought to soothe. “The sheriff doesn’t think so, Mer. But when someone’s mind is disordered, they often do things they wouldn’t do ordinarily. I think Crazy Man was simply worried about Ruby.”
Morgan wrinkled her nose in thought. “Maybe he was worried some bad person would do something to hurt Ruby, and he wanted to warn Uncle Roger and Aunt Samantha about that.”
“That’s most likely it, Morgan.” Jack reached across to pat her knee. “But you can see that we still need to be careful until this man is found, can’t you?”
“Yeah, we’ll watch more,” Morgan said.
Jack was glad to hear this, as Morgan had always been the more levelheaded of the two twins.
Meredith looked around dreamily, her thoughts already drifting from the subject at hand. “You should have a party here, Ms. Grace. It’s such a pretty place. Everyone who lives on the River Road, Creekside, and right across the river could come and bring things. And we could cook on your big barbeque grill and play games in the yard. It would be nice.”
“That’s a cool idea, Mer!” Morgan’s eyes lit up, her thoughts shifting quickly from fears about Crazy Man, too. “And Daddy can do good barbequing.”
“Is that right?” Grace asked, with a teasing glance in her eyes as she looked Jack’s way and lifted her eyebrows.
Jack realized she was glad to see the children shift their thoughts away from the harsh thoughts of Crazy Man trying to hurt little girls.
“Well, I am good at the grill, if I do say so myself.” He grinned at her. “Burgers, ribs, chicken, you name it.”
“I want hamburgers,” Morgan piped in.
“And homemade ice cream.” Meredith added that. “Uncle Roger has a freezer, and we have one. We could make two kinds!”
Grace smiled at the girls’ enthusiasm and cocked an eye at Jack. “Do you think everyone would like to come?”
“Sure.” Jack assured her. “We haven’t held a gathering around here in a long time. Not since your big open house in early June.”
“Will you call and invite people if I provide the place?” Grace asked.
“Will do.” Jack felt pleased to see their relationship slip back into a more congenial mode. “I’ll come around and talk to you about it later when I get in touch with everyone. Will this Friday night be too soon? It seems like if you plan too far ahead, there are always problems.”
“Friday will be good. I don’t have any guests coming to the inn until Saturday night. So that will be a great time for me.”
Jack tossed towels over the girls and started them on across the bridge to change their clothes. He picked up his own clothes, wallet, and watch, and stopped to slip his shoes back on his feet.
He glanced across at Grace. “I hope the girls didn’t talk you into hosting a gathering you weren’t up for, Miz Conley.”
She turned to smile at him as she gathered her own things. “No, I’m pleased to host a get-together here. And I think it will be good for Roger and Samantha and their girls to get out and have a good time after their bad experiences this week. You will invite them, won’t you?”
“I’m going over there to see them later. Bebe made supper for us all. It’s a good time for a family to pull together when there’s been a problem like this.”
She sent him a thoughtful look. “That’s just the kind of thing I like so much about you, Jack. How you think of others so often before yourself.”
His eyes flicked over her with appreciation before he turned to leave. He had a desire to touch her again, but quelled it so he could leave her on a positive note. Halfway across the swinging bridge, he looked back to see her watching him.
She waved casually and then started toward the house. He let his eyes drift after her as she walked in that swaying, seductive way of hers up through the yard toward the inn, and then he followed his girls up the hill to their own place. Mercy times ten. Just watching her walk through the yard had stirred him all up again.
CHAPTER 11
Grace spent the rest of the afternoon getting Carl’s old shop set up for business under the Mimosa name. The dogs kept her company, sleeping in a cool corner where they could keep an eye on her. They had grown comfortable in their new home, and Grace’s guests at the Mimosa found them to be charming.
Finding a blank wood sign Carl Oakley had left behind in the storage room, Grace painted decorative pink mimosa blooms and the name of the shop on it and hammered it into the ground in front of the store. Then she started putting out and pricing her crafts. She planned to have her first open hours on Thursday from eleven to four.
Hearing footsteps on the porch, she looked up to see Samantha Butler at the door.
“Hi. Could you use some company, Grace? Bebe has the girls, and I felt like I needed a break.” Sam pushed back a stray wisp of hair that had escaped from the loose bun at the back of her neck. Her gray eyes looked up anxiously from a full face. “I guess you heard what happened.”
“I did.” Grace went over to give her new friend a hug. “You and Roger must have been terrified.”
Samantha nodded, reaching to shake hands in greeting with Sadie and Dooley who had come out to meet her. “It’s been a hard day. But I think we’ve both convinced ourselves, as the sheriff says, that Crazy Man was only sending us a warning to be more careful—versus a threat that he might try to hurt Ruby. Swofford brought over a record of all the notes and warnings people have received from the man in the last year, and there’s a similarity between them all. Swofford believes the man sees himself as some sort of vigilante or watchdog around our area. He believes Crazy Man is more like a busybody or a Peeping Tom than a real danger.”
Grace perched on a wooden stool that Carl Oakley had built and watched her new friend. Samantha Butler was a round-faced, dark brunette with a softly full figure and, usually, a happy, optimistic countenance and manner. Although Samantha had young children, she was in her early forties—not many years younger than Grace. Samantha and Roger had married late, and Sam didn’t have their first child, Daisy, until she was thirty-two.
“You know, I didn’t think I would ever marry,” Samantha had told Grace once. “I was already thirty when Roger and I met, and he was nearly forty. But love bit us as hard as if we’d been teenagers—except that we were old enough to truly recognize a good thing when it hit us this time.”
She’d laughed with pleasure and then added a comment Grace still remembered with fondness. “I knew the day I met you that we would be friends, too, Grace.”
Over the summer months, the two women’s friendship had deepened, even though Grace’s children were grown and Samantha’s still young.
Pacing around restlessly, Samantha continued to fill Grace in on the events of the day. Suddenly, she stopped to look around, momentarily distracted. “Why, Grace, you almost have the shop set up. It looks wonderful! I’d been so preoccupied I hardly noticed.”
She walked closer to a shelf Grace had just filled from an empty box on the floor. “Did you really make all these beautiful things yourself?”
Grace nodded, laughing.
“So tell me about them. I’d like to get my thoughts on something else for a little while.” Sam leaned over to pick up a nest of decorative boxes from a shelf.
Grace knew Sam needed to focus on another subject and happily obliged. She walked over to join Sam near the display shelves.
“That section in front of you, Sam, evolved from my découpage and stenciling phase of crafting.” Grace chuckled as she gestured to the shelves loaded down with découpaged and stenciled boxes, plaques, and trays. “Over there to your left are all the craft projects I made in my quilting, smocking, and sewing stage.” Purses, quilts, aprons, and an array of other items filled the shelves and hung on display racks.
Samantha walked over to admire a row of small children’s clothes, bonnets, and bibs. “What beautiful smocki
ng! Didn’t your children want these for their own little ones?”
Grace smiled. “Believe me, Sam, I made an abundance. I think they all got more items than they knew what to do with. When I get on a crafting roll, I kind of get obsessed.” She looked around and shook her head. “That’s why there’s so much here.”
Sam walked over to a row of shelves filled with unfinished wood items. “These are Carl’s items here, aren’t they?”
“Yes. I thought some people seeing my advertisements might come expecting to see some of his work. They’re nice—especially the carved canes and the log-cabin birdhouses he made.”
Grace followed Samantha as she wandered around to the different sections of the small shop. There was a pottery and ceramics section, a section of jewelry—from the year Grace learned to make her own beads—and a section filled with tole-painted items, and a few framed acrylics.
“You paint, too?” Sam turned to look at Grace with surprise. “These are wonderful.” She walked around examining the paintings Grace had hung on the wall and propped up against the shelves. “I love this painting of the rooster. Will you save it for me for my kitchen? I collect roosters, if you haven’t noticed … and chickens and roosters decorate my kitchen. I think I have just the spot in mind for this little painting.”
“Sold.” Grace smiled at Sam. “But you have to buy it if you want it. My mother convinced me that I shouldn’t continue to simply give away my work. She was really quite sweet about encouraging me when she visited.”
Sam leaned against a counter. “I can’t believe your family in Nashville never valued your arts and crafts work. It is truly good, Grace.”
“Even the ceramics?” Grace grinned and pointed to a shelf overflowing with painted and fired ceramics.
“Yes, even the ceramics. Because you didn’t make the usual tacky items so many people create. You made unique and useful pieces. And added your own decorative touches. I especially love the piggy banks; every one of them is painted and decorated differently.”
