Loud stomping outside drew her attention to the steps. She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t even seen Hal leave the barn. But he was outside, climbing the steps and struggling with a piece of furniture.
She opened the door and he carried a beautiful rocking chair inside. He set it down in the foyer as she closed the door, shutting out the cold and blowing snow off the porch.
“Whew, it’s bitter out there,” Hal said as she shook the blown snow off his hair. He removed his coat and hung it on a hook before wrapping Nancy up in a hug. “Warm me up. I’m freezing.”
She laughed and wiggled in his arms. “Hal, your hands are freezing!”
“I’m just trying to cool you off, darling. You say you’re hot all the time now.”
“Well your son doesn’t like the cold!” Her laughter bubbled out as she twisted in his arms.
Laughing, he kissed her neck and turned her toward the chair. “Maybe our son will like your new chair. Will this suffice to rock our children?”
An intricate carving of maple keys and leaves adorned the top of the dark walnut rocking chair. Six fashioned flat rungs formed the back of the rocking chair. Smooth curved arms framed the wooden seat, and turned spindle legs connected it to long curved rockers. “It’s absolutely beautiful, Hal, but it looks so fragile. I don’t dare sit in it. I’m so heavy I’m afraid I’ll break it.”
“What? You can’t weigh over a hundred pounds.”
“I can assure you I’m at least twenty pounds over that mark.”
He laughed and sat in the chair, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. “Darling, this chair is solid enough to hold our entire family.” As if to prove it, Captain jumped onto her lap and joined them.
And as Nancy sat there in Hal’s lap, she realized he was right. This sturdy rocking chair, this work of art crafted by her husband’s loving hands, would hold their entire family for generations.
* * *
THE END
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Turn the page for a preview of the Grayson Brothers Series Book Eight
THE PROMISE IN YOUR EYES
A Heartbroken Widow Vows She Will Never Love Again —A Reclusive Millionaire Plans To Prove Her Wrong
Time has a way of healing broken hearts, but not for widow, Nancy Grayson. She has never stopped loving her deceased husband Hal. For years, she has found contentment in tending her family — until a chance encounter with a reclusive millionaire Dawson Crane pries open her lonely heart. Dawson reawakens her spirit and her need for love. She longs for his companionship, but each step that takes her closer to Dawson betrays her love for Hal. Is it possible to love two men at the same time? Can she let go of the love of her past and embrace the man who offers her a second chance at love?
Chapter 1
Fredonia, New York
December 20, 1890
Like the worst sort of snoop, Nancy Grayson peeked out her frosty foyer window at the man crossing the apple orchard. The closer he came, the faster her heart beat.
She was long past her youth, but she felt as nervous and emotionally confused as she had on her wedding day forty-six years ago. She had married Hal Grayson in that orchard and had watched their four sons play there as young boys. Hal’s last walk was in that orchard, and that’s where Nancy had shed a river of tears grieving his death. Today, however, it was a different man she saw crossing the orchard—a man who made her breath catch and left her questioning… everything.
The icy branches on the apple trees sparkled in the bleak sunlight, and wisps of snow blew across the orchard that separated her home from her son Radford’s house. Her grandchildren still played in the orchard, but a couple of them were already young adults. Her granddaughter Rebecca was even married.
Time was moving along so quickly.
Her reflection in the hall tree mirror attested to the passage of time. She smoothed her hair back into the chignon she’d just straightened five minutes earlier. Her red hair had faded to auburn and was laced with strands of gray. Her skin was still smooth, but crow’s feet bracketed her eyes. Hal had called them laugh lines, and while he was alive she could believe that. Their marriage had been full of laughter. But now, she could only see wrinkles and a woman who was a grandmother. What did Dawson Crane see when he looked at her? He was a wealthy, handsome man who could easily find a young bride, so why did he want a woman six years his senior?
Sighing at her reflection, Nancy remembered herself as a young bride with supple skin and flaming red hair. She was sixteen years old when she had climbed on a train to become a mail order bride. She’d left her home in Buffalo and headed for Fredonia where she’d met Hal Grayson instead of his brother John, her intended. That time of her life had been unnerving, but she’d been determined, and that determination had served her well in the years since. Despite a rough start, she and Hal had built a wonderful and loving life together, raising four strong and honorable sons who still lived right here in Fredonia.
They’d had a good life together…
A familiar ache spread through Nancy’s chest, and her eyes misted. She smoothed her hand over the oak hall tree that Hal had built for her. She’d helped him sand the piece and add coat hooks and hardware for the bench seat. Some of their best times together were in Hal’s woodshop where he built furniture. Twenty-four years had passed since his death, and she had now lived more years alone after his death than years she had lived with him. The passing of time didn’t make his loss any less painful. But it did make her think about the future—and the man crossing the orchard who was coming to see her.
Until Dawson had come along, she had been content with being a mother and grandmother and tending her family. Now she was considering things that made her face burn. The reclusive millionaire was prying open her lonely, aching heart, and it terrified her.
“Gracious sakes,” she whispered to her reflection. “Stop being ridiculous."
With purposeful strides, she entered the parlor and placed another piece of wood in the fireplace. Glowing orange coals and flickering flames danced around the wood. Hal had taught her how to build a fire after she’d smoked them out of the house with her first attempt at heating the firebox. He’d taught her so many things. Now it felt like a small betrayal to make their parlor cozy for another man.
This fire is not for Dawson! It’s cold outside and I built the fire for myself… and for Adam and Rebecca who would be along shortly.
Utterly fed up with her troublesome thoughts, Nancy released a hard sigh and returned to the foyer.
Clearing a fresh circle in the window glass with her palm, she watched Dawson trudge through the snow, growing ever closer. It seemed odd to see him in her orchard. It wasn’t hers, of course, never was, but that acre of apple trees held so many memories for her. The orchard had introduced her to her first and dearest friend in Fredonia, Mary Tucker, Evelyn’s mother. Nancy had married her beloved Hal in that orchard. There had been family picnics and games of hide and seek there. More than once, she and Hal had made love on a worn blanket beneath the stars and falling apple blossoms. Their children played in the little creek that cut across the property. Each season gave the orchard more character, aging the trees and twisting their branches into unique and beautiful art.
The gnarled, snow covered branches were now silhouetted against the violet hues of the fading sun. A bright red cardinal created a vibrant and beautiful contrast against the white snow. The colorful bird flitted from branch to branch in search of twigs to secure its nest against winter’s frigid grip. At the far edge of the orchard a pair of young deer pawed at the snow. They dug their noses deep and then tossed their heads, throwing small puffs in the air as they searched for apples from the fall harvest. How many times had she stood in this very spot watching Hal follow a well-worn path through the orchard when he returned from visiting with his friend William Tucker?
But today, it was Dawson Crane making his way to her door, striding confidently right through the middle of that orchard. And without his cane!
Nancy’s stomach tightened with anticipation. Dawson’s dark brown hair, lightly peppered with silver strands, stuck out from beneath his dome-crowned bowler, a wholly inappropriate hat given the frigid weather. Thankfully the man had enough sense to wear a smartly tailored, wool town coat that buttoned from knee to throat. With each step he took, his boots stirred the fallen snow into smoky puffs. Swirling, blowing snow fell on his broad shoulders and stuck to the black knit scarf twined about his neck. In one of his gloved hands, he carried a black valise, evidence of his intention to spend several days in her home. And in his other hand was his cane, a mere prop now.
Instead of leaning on his cane and limping as he strode towards her, he swung it in an almost celebratory manner. The image made her laugh despite her nerves. He looked quite the image of a country gentleman. She imagined him whistling as he spun his cane happily back and forth with each step he took. As he exited the orchard and crossed the drive, she could see that his cheeks were reddened from the cold.
It surprised and delighted her to see him walking so well. What else had changed with Dawson since she’d last seen him? She had certainly noticed changes in herself since she’d returned home from Crane Landing.
Too many changes. Too many thoughts. Too much weakness in the face of Dawson’s temptation.
And yet, she couldn’t take her eyes off the man climbing her steps.
Pressing her hand to her stomach to calm her nerves, she was aware of another change. She’d lost some of the roundness in her waist and hips, and she’d taken in her dresses to account for the weight loss. She hadn’t intended to lose weight, hadn’t even thought about it really, but she relished the fact that she now tied her apron a little tighter.
Through the window glass, Dawson’s blue gaze locked on hers. His eyes sparkled and he winked at her, a roguish grin gracing his handsome face as he stomped the snow from his boots. He raised the hand bearing his cane and tapped on the door. The confident rap announced that Dawson Crane had arrived.
Nancy’s heartbeat accelerated and she took a final deep breath, warning herself to conduct herself as a married woman—but another voice reminded her she was a widow, and Dawson Crane was every woman’s dream.
Shoving her wayward thoughts aside, she smoothed her hand over her hair. A nervous habit. A vain attempt to stall the inevitable. Finally, she placed her hand on the tarnished brass doorknob and opened the door to a world of uncertainty.
* * *
“Dawson Crane, at your service,” he said, greeting her with an exaggerated bow. He was so charming and handsome with his windblown hair and white smile that it made Nancy’s heart flutter.
He had greeted her with those exact words the first day she met him at the shipyard in Crane Landing, and they had quickly become dear friends. They could continue that friendship as long as they desired. That didn’t have to change—even if he wanted more.
“Gracious, Dawson, your face is red and you look half frozen. Come in, come in. It’s so cold out there you’ll catch a chill. Come in and warm up.” She was babbling. She felt a flush rise on her cheeks for acting like a ninny. But Dawson had changed the game during their last visit and it left her grasping for conversation that wouldn’t lead them to a place she couldn’t go.
“Brrr. It’s even colder here than it is in Crane Landing,” Dawson said, shaking the snow off his hat and brushing it off his coat before removing the heavy wool garment. “I’m eager to sit beside that inviting fire in your parlor.”
Nancy smiled and hung his coat. “I’ll make us hot tea while you warm up.” Her hands shook as she adjusted the heavy garment on the coat tree. Her hand lingered a moment on the carved wood, a handmade gift from Hal during one of their early Christmases.
“Am I too cold for a warm welcome?” Dawson asked, snapping her attention back to him. With a warm smile, he boldly pulled her into his arms.
“Oh! Gracious, I… well, you have caught me off guard,” she said, releasing a breathless laugh. To be thinking of Hal while Dawson was in her home, shamed her. But it was precisely because Dawson was in her home, and because his warm hug felt so good, that thoughts of Hal were torturing her. Her cheek rested against the center of Dawson’s solid chest, and she remembered the nice scent of his cologne and the many wonderful conversations they’d shared in Crane Landing. She’d missed spending time with him.
And she missed his kiss.
And that tortured her.
Their first kiss had begun as an innocent gesture between friends and had burst into a warm flame of desire that Nancy hadn’t experienced in more than two decades.
“I’ve anticipated this moment for weeks,” he said.
She felt Dawson’s arms shift, and she feared he was going to kiss her again. She wanted him to kiss her, but she couldn’t allow herself to head down that path.
“Tell me about your trip and news of Crane Landing,” she said, extracting herself from his arms before she gave into temptation. She ignored the surprise and question in his eyes and gestured toward the parlor. “Come sit by the fire and warm up while I fetch our tea.”
After he removed his boots, he followed her into the parlor where an inviting fire crackled in the fireplace, providing a warm glow in the room. Although she’d heated her home with gas for a number of years, she often built a fire, needing the comfort of the crackling blaze to keep her company on quiet evenings alone. She wasn’t alone now, but she needed that familiar comfort more than ever. She had never entertained a man in her home. She had never wanted to—until she’d met Dawson.
From the instant she’d looked into his blue eyes, her world had shifted sideways and she hadn’t been able to get back on firm footing since.
As Dawson seated himself in a large upholstered chair positioned near the fireplace, Nancy excused herself to fetch tea for them. She rushed to the kitchen and braced one hand on the stove and the other to her thudding heart. She was literally trembling. Releasing a slow, steadying breath, she retrieved two tea cups from the cupboard beside the stove and placed them on a tray. As she opened a decorative tea canister that her grandchildren had given her one Christmas, she thought of the many wonderful memories made in this home. Christmas was a special time for her family, but every day with her family was special for Nancy, an
d she simply couldn’t leave her babies. And that’s exactly what she’d have to do if she married again.
“Need some help?” Dawson asked from the doorway.
“Gracious sakes! You startled me. I thought you were relaxing in the parlor.”
“It was lonely there without you,” he said, his blue eyes filled with warmth. The invitation in his gaze drew her in, beckoned her to slip into the circle of his arms and welcome him fully into her life.
Dawson leaned one strong shoulder against the doorframe and watched her with that smoldering gaze of his.
Nancy babbled to distract herself from the enormous temptation he presented. “I… I was just pouring our tea and reminiscing a bit about my grandchildren. They gave me this tea canister a few years back.” She wrapped a potholder around the hot handle of the kettle and poured steaming water over the tea leaves. “They also gave me this pretty platter last year,” she said, placing the plate of cookies on the tray while the tea leaves steeped.
“You’re fortunate to have such a large, wonderful family. But I sure don’t know how you keep up with sixteen grandchildren.” Dawson strolled across the kitchen and took a cookie off the plate. With a playful wink he popped the whole thing in his mouth. “They look so good I can’t resist,” he said. He swallowed and gave her a boyish grin. “I hope that won’t get me banned from the kitchen.”
Nancy laughed. “Have as many as you like. I have plenty more stored in the cabinet that I can bring out when Adam and Rebecca arrive.”
When I Fall in Love Page 28