“Well, from what I can tell, you’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thank you.”
She warmed her hands on the mug. “It must take up a lot of time.”
“It’s a commitment. The trees always need care.” His brows furrowed.
The expression caused a tightening low in her stomach. He looked so intent, focused on whatever he was thinking. She wanted him to look at her like that.
As if sensing her thoughts, his eyes jerked to hers, blazing into them with intensity.
She hastily took a sip of her drink as her mouth went dry.
She cleared her throat as she carefully placed the cup on the table. “So, about the picture,” she said, steering her thoughts into safer territory, “how do you want to go about this?”
Leaning back into his chair, he lost the look of intensity. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to locate the journals. Instead, I thought we could start by putting together some sort of timeline of each of their lives from the information we already know. Places they went, activities they were involved in, that sort of thing. Hopefully that will be enough to figure out where the connection is.”
“All right.” Reaching into her purse, she brought out her tablet. Seeing the question on his face, she said, “It’s my design tablet, but I pretty much use it for everything else. I figured it might be easier to see where the link is.”
“Good idea.”
“So, I’m assuming your grandfather grew up on the orchard. Did he go to school around here too?”
“He went to the local schools. Never went to college.” His voice trailed off as she pulled out a pair of black rimmed glasses from her bag, slipping them on with ease.
Her brows lowered fractionally as she scribbled the dates on the glowing screen. “Not surprising. There wasn’t much need for a higher education since he would’ve received all the training he needed from his father.”
Realizing he had gone quiet, she glanced up over the top of her glasses, her head still bent toward the screen. “Problem?”
“No.” His voice sounded hoarse. “Just got a little distracted by your glasses. They’re…unexpected.”
Her lips pursed in amusement. “Yes, well, the screen strains my eyes if I look at it too long. I didn’t know how long this would take, but I’d rather be safe than get a headache halfway through.”
Grant shifted in his chair, clearing his throat. “What about your grandma? Did she grow up around here?”
“Sorta. She was born in Washington and then moved here with her family when she was a kid. She spent most of her time in Los Angeles before becoming a nurse.” She filled in the new information.
“A nurse? Where did she work? A hospital in LA?”
“Yeah, eventually. I think it started with the war, though. She wanted to help and decided that would be the best way.”
“We’re talking about World War II, right?”
“Yes. I think she worked on a base in the area taking care of the soldiers.”
His body stiffened. “My grandpa was a Seabee here during that time. Port Hueneme. Was she stationed there?”
“I’m not sure.” A frown marred her forehead. “It’s possible though. I don’t know much about which bases were operational in World War II.”
“It should be easy enough to find out.”
They went through the rest of their grandparents’ histories, but nothing else intersected.
“That has to be the connection.” He nodded, accentuating his point.
“I think you’re right. Nothing else lines up.” She studied the timelines. “That’s the only overlap. I just wish we knew more. Perhaps there’s more information in her journals somewhere.”
“It would be a good place to look.”
“There are just so many of them,” she said, daunted. “I had no idea she was so prolific. There are boxes of them tucked away. It’s going to take a lot of time to go through them.”
He nodded as he stood, taking the emptied mugs with him. “My grandpa has some World War II stuff in the attic. None of it has been touched since he died. There might be something in there.”
“Great.” She stored the tablet in her bag. “Is it possible to go through some of it now? I don’t mean to be pushy. I just want answers.”
“I understand. And yes, I think we could reach it. There’s a lot of stuff up there, but I don’t believe it’s too buried.” He gestured for her to follow. “Let’s take a look.”
As she walked farther into the house, she was charmed by the old style décor that dominated the rooms. Hand-hooked rugs, lace curtains, brass beds with gently faded quilts for warmth. All antiques that she felt had to have been new when they were brought into the house. Everything was well cared for, polished. “The furniture is great. Your design?”
A sharp laugh escaped his lips. “Absolutely not. I can’t take credit for any of it. Most of it was decorated by my grandmother. My grandfather didn’t change a thing when she passed away, and it’s remained mostly untouched since he died last year.”
“Well, it’s lovely.”
“Thank you.”
They ascended to the second floor, rounding a corner to another staircase that led to the attic.
“How long has your family lived here?” she asked, following his lead up the narrow steps.
“Over one hundred years. My great-grandfather built it when he founded the orchard.”
“That’s crazy. There couldn’t have been anything else around for miles.”
He shot a quick smile over his shoulder, his white teeth flashing. The gesture went straight to her belly, wreaking havoc to her system. He should be required to carry a permit for such a weapon.
The door at the top of the stairs squeaked, bringing to mind one too many horror films. She shuddered. “Just don’t let me be the one to say ‘hello?’ as I pop my head in to see if there’s anything there.”
A laugh barked from his chest. “I’ll try to remember that.” He held the door open, allowing her to follow him in.
“Seriously, why would anyone do that? It kills me every time. And you know it’s always the blonde bimbo. Crash. ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’ Yeah, like the psycho killer is going to reply, ‘Oh, dang! You caught me.’”
“If there wasn’t a person like that in every horror flick, it wouldn’t be the same.”
She nodded grudgingly as she scoped out the dimly lit room. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting it to be this large.”
“Older homes. This space runs the length of the house.”
Odds and ends had been placed haphazardly throughout the room, gathering dust and cob webs until they were finally forgotten. The sun filtered through a small window on the left, illuminating dust motes that had been disturbed by their entry. The placed need a giant garbage can and gallons of 409.
“We don’t come up here a lot.” He shrugged sheepishly.
“I can see that.”
“It’s on the list.”
“The list?”
“The to-do list. But not many items have been checked off in the last year. It’s been busy in the orchard.”
“I’ll bet. I heard you acquired neighboring land recently. Must be a lot of extra work in the beginning.”
“It is.” He eyed her briefly before turning his attention to the massive amounts of junk. “You know anything about orange trees?”
“Other than the fact that they grow oranges?”
He snorted. “I think the stuff is over there.” He pointed to the left side of the room, about ten feet away from where they stood. “Let me clear a path and make sure it’s there. It might be one other place. If not, we’re out of luck.”
* * *
He moved items out of the way—a wicker chair with a broken seat, a brass lamp that was tarnished but might still have some life in it, a few boxes that rattled with what sounded like dishes.
“You should open an eBay account. With all the stuff in here, you might find some treasures,” Natalie said.
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Grant rolled his eyes. “No doubt someone would want this crap. It blows my mind what people will buy online.” She chuckled as he moved a final box, squinting at the dark corner. “We’re in luck. It looks to be mostly here.” He cleared a larger space for them to stand together.
Opening the first box, Grant pulled out a folded uniform. It was musty from the stale air, but even in the dark, the vibrant blue with red and white stripes stood out. Setting it carefully aside, he pulled out newspapers from the 1940’s, a picture of his grandpa’s Seabee unit, a pair of socks with holes in them, and a small carving of a dog.
“That’s cute. Did your grandfather make that?”
“Yeah. I’d see him whittle on occasion. It was amazing the things he could create.” He replaced the items in the box. “No clues in that one. Maybe we’ll get lucky in the next.”
They searched through four more boxes until they were left with only one. There hadn’t been anything significant in the other boxes. Most of the items should’ve been tossed long ago.
Not expecting to find anything, Grant opened it, sifting through items until his fingers brushed over rough wood. He pulled it out of the box and into better light, puzzled to find a small chest. It was crude, with only a small clasp holding the lid closed, but it felt so much more important than that. Unhooking the closure, the hair on the back of his neck rose in anticipation. The air was charged, electric with possibilities.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a photo and a lock of blonde hair, the only two items in the chest. Blonde? But that couldn’t be right. His grandma’s hair had been brown.
Natalie gasped as she lurched toward him, almost ripping the photograph from his hand. “That’s them. That’s my grandma. I can’t believe it,” she said breathlessly.
Grant couldn’t believe it either. Here was evidence. Evidence that there had been a connection between their grandparents. A stronger one than he had expected.
They smiled into the camera, arms wrapped around each other in a way that left no doubt that they had been involved.
His thumb brushed over the blonde hair in his hand. Why had he never heard of this woman? Adele. If his grandpa had saved these tokens, she had to have meant something to him.
What did this mean?
It was only by chance that Grant looked into the empty chest and saw something flicker in a corner.
Reaching inside the box, he moved slowly as if his brain couldn’t do anything more than comprehend what he was seeing.
The metal was cool to the touch, and when he pulled the antique diamond ring into the light, it glimmered, reflecting sparks of fire onto the walls.
Natalie looked from the ring to his face and back. “Does that mean...” She stuttered, trying to pull her thoughts together. “Were they engaged?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was quiet in the still room.
“But…” Natalie waved her hands around. “She never mentioned it. How could she not have told me?”
He cursed. Raking a hand through his hair, thoughts crashed in his mind.
It should have been simple. The answer was supposed to pacify her enough to have her pack up and leave. But this opened up more questions, and left even more unanswered.
The mystery wrapped around him, binding his lungs until he couldn’t breathe.
If the ring meant what he thought it might, that his grandpa had been in love, or perhaps even engaged to Adele Cunningham, he needed to know.
Seeing the dazed look on Natalie’s face, he knew she was thinking the same thing. And they would find out together.
A thrill shot through his system.
Closed in the dark room, her body encased in shadows, he felt a craving for her roar through him, a need blazing hotter than he had experienced in a long time. Knowing he would be near her, working closely with her, his body went into overdrive.
His attraction had slammed into him the moment he had seen her, but it had been easy enough to ignore. He’d thought she would only be in his life for a short afternoon.
But looking at the ring and the photo, he knew that he’d be spending a lot more time with her.
There was no reason he couldn’t get to know her. And if it led to something more, what was the problem with that?
It didn’t bother him that his grandfather might have been involved with her grandmother. Nothing had come of it. Life had moved on.
But maybe something could come of the time he spent with Natalie.
She intrigued him. Her artsy style, paired with an agile mind, was refreshing. And he wouldn’t even get started on her sexy-as-hell glasses. But he wanted to see them on her again.
“Well, I guess this answered one thing. They definitely met during the war. Unfortunately, it opens up a ton of other questions,” he finally said.
She shook her head. “I just… never expected to find something like this. I wish she were here. There’s so much I want to ask her.”
“I know.” His voice was soft with understanding. “Listen, this is a lot to take in. Why don’t we head downstairs and get something to eat? It might help clear our minds before we figure out what we want to do next.”
Taking a deep breath, she released it in a quick puff. “All right. I think that might be best. My thoughts are on a merry-go-round right now.”
Deciding on pizza, he had her order whatever she wanted. “Speed dial two,” he said.
Although she was conflicted about what they had learned, the thought of him having the pizza place on speed dial amused her. “You are such a bachelor. It’s almost comical how stereotypical that is.”
“What can I say? If I don’t feel like cooking, something hot and steamy delivered right to my door wins.”
She snorted. “Men.”
He was going to retort but she began to speak into the phone, ordering, he thought with a cringe, Hawaiian pizza. No fruit should ever defile a pizza. It was sacrilegious.
“Should be here in twenty,” she said after hanging up.
When the pizza arrived, they opened the box with relish, both diving into the melty creation.
“How are you holding up?” he asked her before biting into his second piece.
She shrugged. “All right, I guess. I’m just so confused. My grandmother married someone else after the war. My grandfather died less than a year after they were married and my grandmother never remarried. I don’t even remember seeing her with anyone else.” She reached for her drink, taking a sip before continuing, “I always thought that she loved him too much to move on. But now I’m not so sure. She kept Edward’s picture all these years. That means something. What if she never moved on from him?”
“If that were the case, why would she have married someone else?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Edward didn’t want to marry her.”
“The ring would suggest otherwise.”
“We don’t know for sure.” He sent her a pointed glance. “All right. It would seem that way.” They were quiet, both lost in their thoughts. “Maybe he never asked her,” she finally said.
“That would make sense why the ring was still there. But if he’d changed his mind about her, why would he have kept the picture and lock of hair? Locked away like that, they were obviously important to him.”
She shook her head in wonder. “I guess the only thing I can do at this point is go through her journals. She had to have written something about him, about their relationship or why it ended.”
“I can go through more of my grandpa’s things. Try to find his journal. There might be something there.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” She pushed away her plate.
“What is?”
She leaned an elbow on the table. “That they were involved somehow. That if circumstances had been different, we’d be cousins.”
Seeing her this way, sated from food, relaxed, her eyes glazed over with the past, he felt even more drawn to her. “Neither you or I would exist.”
“True.” She grinned. “Can
I take that for you?” She reached for his plate and stacked it with her own before taking it to the sink.
His eyes locked onto her, he enjoyed the view of her swaying hips, the narrowness of her waist. The skinny jeans she wore were like a second skin. He wanted to touch her, taste her, if only once. The need to hold her coursed through him. Unable to deny it, he stood slowly, walking to her.
She stilled at the sink, pausing in her task of rinsing.
He couldn’t find words to describe the desire coursing through him, this feeling of inevitability.
Reaching out, he was about to turn her toward him, but he was too slow. Before he could react, she turned to face him, her arms locking around his neck, bringing her lips to his.
Electricity surged like live wire as their bodies met, the force almost knocking him over. It was more than he expected to find.
There was no gentle exploration. It was a flash of lips, tongue, teeth. Teasing, playing, devouring.
Here was heat. Here was a type of desire he could drown in.
He caged her body against the counter, a growl rising in his throat as he changed the angle of their kiss, trying to find a better fit as he plundered her mouth.
She shivered against him, her body turning pliant.
He wanted more of her.
Wrapping a firm arm around her waist, his other hand trailing to cradle the back of her head, her silky dark hair tickling his arm, he brought her flush against him. Every soft curve molded to hard planes, scorching him.
She pressed into him, the friction causing him to break off their kiss with a curse. Unwilling to let her go, he held her against him, guiding her head to his shoulder.
He gulped in air, trying to steady his breathing.
He couldn’t think straight. It was mind-blowing, the level of physical connection that they shared. The kiss had been more intense, more pleasurable than anything he had ever experienced before.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.” She looked up at his face before freezing. “Oh, geez. You aren’t with someone, are you? I never would have done that had I thought you were involved with someone else.”
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