“Does this mean you’ll hire Christine?” Agnes was nearly beside herself. She clutched Slade’s arm.
“That means we’ll consider her.” Slade coolly removed her fingers.
It seemed logical that Christine was the front-runner in the interview process. Stupid, really, to act any differently.
Flynn stared at Becca.
Stupid. That’s how he acted around her.
He couldn’t stop watching Becca’s lips move as she talked to Slade and Agnes.
He couldn’t stop thinking that for a few minutes out there on the porch, stupid was worth it.
* * *
“AGNES, I KNOW the ring makes you uncomfortable.” Becca had pulled Agnes down the hallway and away from the others at the wine tasting. “It’s making me uncomfortable. I think we should return it to Harold’s daughter.”
Agnes’s back was to the living room, so she couldn’t see the angry glare Flynn was giving them. “I don’t know, Becca. Do you think Harold would be hurt if I just put it in my jewelry box?” She twisted the ring and cast her gaze about their feet.
“You won’t find any pennies on the carpet. If you were embracing the ring and telling people about it, I’d never ask you to give it back.” Becca had to work to keep panic from spreading from her limbs to her voice. “But you hide it. You don’t even tell your closest friends about it.”
“It makes me feel alive,” Agnes murmured. “Do you know what that’s like? To feel useless and at odds with the world?”
“I do. When my husband died I felt like my life was over. Who was I if not Terry’s wife? It was part of my identity.”
Agnes nodded.
“But then I found other interests. I moved away.”
“You found Flynn.” Agnes smiled meekly.
“That’s not... He’s not.” Becca sighed. “It’s not like that between us. I’m never going to find someone like Terry. He believed in me.”
“As I recall, the dance of love wasn’t a smooth, boring waltz.” Agnes cradled her hand with the ring over her heart. “It’s more like a passionate tango with unexpected twists and turns.”
“Flynn and I aren’t dancing. We aren’t walking.” Or holding hands or kissing. Not anymore. The thought was more demoralizing than Becca wanted to admit.
“Not even on the Harmony River bridge?”
“No, Agnes. Can we get back to the ring?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Edwin started coughing.
Both women looked at him.
“He’s so pale,” Agnes said. “My husband was pale like that at the end. And the dry cough...” She looked at Becca. “But Flynn said he was going to recover, right? You’ve seen his progress these past few weeks. Haven’t you?”
Becca’s gaze flew to Flynn’s face. He’d knelt at Edwin’s side when the coughing fit started. Flynn lifted his gaze to hers and she saw what she’d been denying since the day she arrived.
Edwin wasn’t going to recover. He was dying.
And Flynn was lying to everyone about it. Perhaps even Edwin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AFTER THE WINE bottles had been emptied and bagged up, and the wineglasses washed and dried, after Truman had gone to bed, after the elderly town council and Flynn’s business partners departed. Becca led Flynn outside onto the front porch. She sat down on the top step.
And confronted Flynn. “You should have told me.”
“Right back at you.” He settled across from her, patting Abby, who’d followed them outside. “Do you want to tell me about the ring now? Or should I ask that private investigator the next time he shows up?”
Becca’s heart nearly stopped beating.
Abby trotted off to make her rounds of the front yard.
“Flynn, please, forget the ring. Tell me how long Edwin has. Tell me it’s months.” Tell her she was wrong and that Edwin had years ahead of him. The poor circulation. The occasional disorientation. The dry cough. The weakness. Being out of breath.
She’d seen what Flynn wanted her to see.
He scoffed at her. “It’d be nice to have one of your clients be alive for the court case or when you move on.”
Days? Edwin only had days and she’d been pushing him to build up endurance when he could die at any time? She hugged her knees. “If you would have told me, I could have prepared myself.”
He gazed up at the stars just starting to come out. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell people, not even Kathy.”
“Truman will be crushed.” She remembered how hard it was to be a kid and lose someone. “He shouldn’t be here when it happens.”
“You stole that ring and I don’t want you to be here.”
Something inside Becca unraveled. He’d never see her as sweet and loveable and trustworthy again. If he ever had in the first place.
“But I can’t fire you.” Flynn’s voice welled with bitterness. “My grandfather wants you here.”
“I’ll help him, I swear. And about the ring...I made a promise. Just, please, trust me when I say it belongs to Agnes.”
“Trust has to be earned.” Flynn didn’t take his eyes off the stars. “Give the ring back, Becca. They’re going to get you for taking the money or taking the ring or both. It’s inevitable.”
She knew. But she had Agnes’s wishes to consider. It was time to change the topic of conversation. “How can I make this time easier on you and Edwin?”
“You can’t.” Two words, wrought with pain.
That wasn’t acceptable. “I won’t take him places anymore. I’ll make him call or invite the friends he wants to see to the house.”
“You can’t stop him, Becca. He wants to do things on his terms. Much as I’d like to make his life longer, he doesn’t want that.”
“It’s hard to let go. I’m sorry, Flynn, so sorry.”
“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough.”
She knew he was talking about more than losing his grandfather.
* * *
“I’VE GOT SOMETHING for you, Becca,” Edwin said after breakfast the next day. He was out of breath from pushing his walker from his bedroom into the kitchen.
“Is this a thank-you for making you pancakes for breakfast instead of oatmeal?” Becca came to stand next to him, drying her hands on a dish towel.
Abby and Truman were out in front playing with a tennis ball.
“No.” Edwin fumbled in his shirt pocket. “Now where did I put it?”
“Why don’t you sit down and tell me what you’re looking for?”
“I don’t want to sit down.” He wheezed. “I want to give this to you without feeling like I’m an invalid.” He wheezed some more and gave her a lopsided smile. His hand dug into his other shirt pocket. “Here it is.” He held out a shaky, blue-tinged hand that still bore water weight from the inefficiency of his heart.
At least now she understood why no amount of raising his arms and legs above his heart reduced the swelling.
He dropped a tarnished silver chain with a pendant into her hand.
“What’s this?”
“It was Irma’s.” Now that Edwin had completed his mission, he wheeled to his recliner, landing with more force than usual.
After she’d established he was fine, Becca unraveled the chain and held it up so she could see the pendant. “It’s the one Irma wore on your wedding day.” Two hearts, joined together. It was lovely.
“That pendant separates into two hearts.” Edwin was still trying to catch his breath. “Irma gave me half of it the day I left for the Foreign Service. She kept the other half and told me I’d always be a part of her heart, whether I fell out of love or didn’t come back to her.” He drew a few more breaths. “When I came back to marry her, we joined the pendants, and she wore i
t on our wedding day.”
Edwin reached up and touched Becca’s wedding ring. “It was her way of pledging her love. A love I still have with me. If I’d have fallen in love again, I’m sure she’d have understood, just like your man.”
“It’s a lovely sentiment, but I’m not looking for love.” She handed the necklace back. “It’s inappropriate for you to give this to me.”
“You don’t understand. I’m giving you the pendant. Irma would have wanted you and Flynn to have it.”
Becca blushed and lowered her voice in case Truman came in. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you two last night. On the porch.” He gasped, waving her off when she indicated he should slow down. “I went to the bathroom and saw you kissing Flynn.”
Clearly, he hadn’t seen them argue afterward. “I can’t accept this. You should give it to Kathy. It’ll mean more to her.”
“Kathy.” Edwin grumbled and jerked himself around in the chair as he tried to get comfortable. “She needs to grow up and get her act together.”
“Don’t say things like that.” Becca turned to make sure Truman was still in the front yard. “Truman might hear you.”
“Fine.” He waved a hand. “Give it to Kathy if you like after Flynn marries you.”
“Setting aside the fact that this isn’t a conversation I want to have with my employer, Flynn isn’t going to marry me.”
“Setting aside the fact that I’m not paying your salary, I know my grandson. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”
“Whatever. I can’t accept this.” She tried handing him the necklace again.
“Wear it, just like you wear your man’s ring. Don’t give up hope on love, Becca. Give Flynn a chance, give the necklace a chance.” He panted after such a long speech.
She loved the story behind the pendant.
Maybe Flynn will forgive me.
But Gary’s lawyers would see things differently.
“You can talk all you want, Edwin, but Flynn will have the last word. If you can convince him that I should have it, I’ll accept your gift. If not, you’ll be giving it to Kathy.”
He squinted at her. “Those terms are acceptable to me if you wear the necklace until Flynn gets home. It’s what I want, last wish and all.”
“Yeah, well, the wishes of old men have gotten me in trouble before.”
“Not this time.” He coughed like a fish out of water, struggling for air. It took him more than a few moments to add, “This time you’re going to trust that I know a thing or two about love.”
If Edwin was going to meddle, what she really needed was for him to know a thing or two about the law.
He gestured toward the necklace. “Now, put it on.”
“Not until Flynn approves.”
“Between that dog of yours and my great-grandson, that necklace could disappear before Flynn gets back. It would give me great pleasure to see it on you.” He squirmed in the chair, thrusting his hand into a pocket. “What is sliding out of my pockets?”
He produced four pennies. “I don’t remember putting these in here.” He handed them to Becca. “I used to put pennies in my pocket when I took Flynn and Kathy to Cloverdale for pizza. Back then a penny was worth something—a gumball or a small toy from a machine.”
Edwin could have experienced a moment of confusion, drifting back to the past, and taken the change off his dresser. But...
Becca spared a glance heavenward.
Really, Terry?
“I’m dying and you know it,” Edwin said heavily. “Please don’t refuse me this one thing.”
With a put-upon sigh, Becca slipped the necklace on. She felt it all morning, brushing across her skin as she cleaned and cooked and kept Edwin company. As she laughed and played with Abby and Truman.
It was almost as if Irma was with her, lifting her spirits, clearing out the cobwebs around her heart as she prepared to love again.
Which was as ridiculous as thinking your husband put pennies in your path.
Wasn’t it?
* * *
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Flynn asked Joey as he pounded new asphalt shingles onto Mae Gardner’s roof. He’d hoped each hammer stroke would chip away at his fascination with Becca.
It didn’t.
Joey climbed up the ladder. “I thought this might go quicker if you had another hammer. You being so set on charity in this town and us waiting for the inspector to show up before we can put in the electrical. I’d rather not waste gas driving back to Santa Rosa.”
Flynn grunted. He’d much rather be alone swinging at his thoughts about Becca. Joey brought a whole new set of baggage with him. Flynn had erected walls against his father years ago, but he hadn’t known Grandpa Ed had paid to keep Joey away. That changed some things, but not the fact that Joey had been a lying, thieving criminal.
They worked in silence for several minutes, finishing up the patchwork quicker than Flynn would have done alone.
“Where’s your sidekick?” Joey asked.
“He’s Slade’s sidekick today since he couldn’t help with the roof.”
“Nice view.” Joey looked at Parish Hill, the granite face towering over them, and then over at the bend in the river as it drifted past Grandpa Ed’s house. “This isn’t exactly the projects.”
Was Flynn supposed to reboot his childhood memories? Erase the scars? Reprogram his opinion of the man next to him after a few weeks? Not without more information. “Why didn’t you refuse Grandpa Ed’s money? There has to be more to it than just making the old man pay.”
“Because your grandfather was right.” Joey tipped his head up toward the sky, which was a clear blue that promised a hot afternoon. “I was a screwup and you would have been in foster care if I’d have taken you back.”
“I suppose I should thank you.” The words dragged out of him.
“I don’t expect that.” He stared Flynn in the eyes. “I turned my life around, but not soon enough to benefit you. Got clean. Got me a nice house. Dane busts my butt, but it’s a good job.” He looked around Mae’s yard. “I realize you probably don’t care about that, but for a guy like me, it’s important. No one’s gonna convince me to do something stupid or tempt me into breaking the law again.”
“What brought about this change?” It sure as heck wasn’t wanting to prove he was worthy of his son.
“I was lucky. I found the love of a good woman. She plants flowers and helped me find peace.” He looked back over the valley. “She made me realize what was important in life.”
“You never went back to a life of crime?”
“No. Anytime things get tough or I see some spoiled kid’s left the latest electronic gadget unattended on a lawn, I think of her and I know I’ll make the right choice.” His grin was sly. “I stole for you and your mother. Things made her happy. Money made her happy.” He shrugged. “Love makes me happy now. That woman who’s taking care of Edwin...you think she could make you happy?”
Flynn headed for the ladder.
Joey laughed. “Hit a nerve, did I? Whether you think it’s too soon or too late, it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it’s how she makes you feel as a man that counts. The rest works itself out.”
With effort, Flynn kept from admitting what Becca had done. Most likely, Joey would think taking a ring and giving it to someone was small potatoes.
“Any other fix-it chores on your list today?” Joey waited for him to reach the bottom before climbing down. “Dane hasn’t texted me about the inspector. I’ll help out until he comes.”
“Olly Bingmire’s garage door won’t open,” Flynn surprised himself by admitting.
Joey leaped the last few feet to the ground. “Don’t know much about garage doors. I did take apart the mechanism of a jail cell do
or once.” Joey held up his hand when Flynn sputtered. “Not that I was escaping. I worked in the mechanics shop at prison. You’d be proud of your old man. I had privileges.”
And what was Flynn supposed to say to that?
“Come on, son. It’s getting hot out here and I’d like to get a beer when we’re done.”
Flynn found himself smiling as he folded the ladder and carried it to his truck.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“HEY, NANA.” A TALL, slender blonde stood in Agnes’s front doorway. She wore high fashion Napa—skinny jeans, high heels, a clingy sweater with just a hint of cleavage. Her sleek hair was in an elegant French braid.
“Christine!” Agnes rushed to hug her, needing to reach up on her toes to do so, and still only meeting her halfway. “I was worried you wouldn’t get here in time.”
Her granddaughter glanced at her cell phone. “There’s still an hour before dinner. Do you need help cooking?”
“No. I thought we could meet some people at El Rosal before dinner.” She hustled Christine out the door and then dragged her along the sidewalk toward town square.
The afternoon breeze was hot. The sun was hot. The sidewalk was hot.
“Who are we meeting?”
Agnes cursed herself. She was flustered by the opportunity to casually introduce Christine so soon after the wine tasting. She’d wanted it to be more of a surprise meeting, but as the clock ticked on, her patience fled. “I’d like you to meet the men who’re building a winery here. Hurry up now. You should have chosen more appropriate shoes.”
Those heels of Christine’s had her walking on her toes. That had to be uncomfortable. She moved slower than Mildred and her walker.
“I told you I had a meeting in Santa Rosa this afternoon. I don’t spend all of my time in the vineyards and wine cellars. I have to class it up for my boss and his investors.” Christine didn’t increase her pace. “You told me about the winery before. I’m not interested. In fact, I’m considering a career change, at least then I’d have control over the wine I make.”
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