by Glynna Kaye
But now she wished she’d gone, mermaid or not.
“Not a whole lot to it. Bait the hook. Drop it in the water. Sit back and relax.”
Relax? Trapped in a boat out in the middle of a lake with Bryce? “I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”
“You can find out for yourself. Gina, too.”
Why was he persisting in this? For Gina’s sake, because he knew how much she wanted to go? “Thanks, but—”
The front door opened and Gina peeked out. “Are you leaving, Uncle Bryce?”
“Sure am. What’s that on your face?”
Grinning, Gina put her hands on her hips. “Grandma’s ice cream.”
Dismayed not only by the smear on her face but the chocolate chip dollop on her T-shirt, Sandi shook her head—and again her gaze grazed Bryce’s amused one. Her breath quickened.
Just go. Get on out of here. Git.
Shoo. Scat.
But he didn’t seem in much of a hurry. Took his own sweet time saying his goodbyes to Gina, crouching for a hug she insisted on giving him.
When he finally departed, Sandi turned off the porch light and scooted Gina to the bathroom to wash her off. Helped her into her pajamas—a bigger-than-usual challenge because Gina didn’t want to take off her daddy’s cap.
“Mommy? Does Uncle Bryce have little kids?”
“I don’t think so, honey. Why?”
“He needs little kids.” She emphasized her matter-of-fact words with a nod of her head.
“Why’s that?”
“Because he’s a good daddy.” Gina gave her a hug and headed to her room to await a bedtime story.
Sandi lingered for a few moments straightening the bathroom as she mulled over Bryce’s words—how he’d unclenched his fist. And Gina’s comment about him being daddy material. Would her daughter ask for a daddy-and-the-guinea-pigs story tonight?
Or an Uncle-Bryce-and-the-fishing-boat one?
Big dumb ox.
He thought he’d known what she was up to, thanks to Cate Landreth at the horse show clueing him in. Yet that night at Sandi’s place he’d lingered at the front door. Invited her—again—to join him on a fishing trip. Keith had once told him she’d refused to go with him, so he wanted to see just how far she’d take it to get on his good side.
But she hadn’t swallowed the, um, bait.
Now here it was a week later and he had to admit that unless you counted the sideways glances he’d intercepted at the horse show and at her place, he didn’t see anything he’d label as putting a “move” on him to get him to change his mind about the rent. He’d had women put moves on him plenty of times before, so he had a good idea of what that might entail. To his shame, the possibility kind of caught Old Bryce’s fancy as some thing he might have some fun with. But obviously the woman who’d tipped him off had it all wrong.
So why’d he keep thinking about Sandi? Sure as shootin’, it didn’t appear she was thinking about him. She hadn’t said a word, either, when he mentioned Keith’s death had driven him to God. Probably didn’t believe it. Couldn’t blame her.
“What are you doing inside on a nice day like this?” Grandma Mae poked him in the shoulder as she made her way past where he sat at the kitchen table with his netbook open in front of him. She’d just gotten up from a nap.
“Checking email.” And running covert calculations on the current state of their finances. The minutes were ticking before a decision about what to do with the second-floor apartment had to be made.
For the time being, Grandma had agreed not to navigate on her own the outside back stairs leading to the apartment or the ones inside through the historical museum below. He could stick close by right now, with his part-time jobs and volunteer work at the fire department. Could drop in to check on her throughout the day. But when he got that firefighter position, he’d be gone for weeks at the fire academy. Then after that he could be called out in the middle of the night or be away for days.
He scanned the spreadsheet columns again. That increase in the rent couldn’t kick in any too soon.
At least Grandma hadn’t argued, as he expected she might, when he suggested they look for a part-time caregiver, a nurse to check in on her, help her with personal self-care that was awkward for a grandson. Someone who could be available at a moment’s notice if Bryce had to be away.
Gran had balked, however, at the necessity of raising the rent on the Canyon Springs Historical Museum to cover some of the other plans he had for her. But eventually she’d been convinced that the figure she’d quoted to the society fifteen years ago was now laughable.
“Earth to Bryce.” Grandma waved a hand in front of his face. “You should get out more. Big strapping boy like you needs some activity.”
“I’m getting plenty of that digging postholes for Trey Kenton down at the equine center. You know, to fence that piece of forested property that burned a dozen or so years back. He’s had all the old stumps removed and will reseed it for pasture.”
He’d been unloading and stacking hay bales for Trey, too. And jogging every day to acclimate to the more-than-mile-high elevation. He didn’t want to fall on his face during the fire fighter physical qualifications.
Grandma turned to lean back against the countertop. “I’m talking recreational exercise. You haven’t been fishing since Memorial Day weekend.”
He grinned. “You’re thinking lifting that fishing pole will keep me in top shape?”
“Fishing’s good exercise for the soul. But now that you mention it, guess I don’t want you getting all flabby on me, either. I’m still praying you’ll catch the eye of some local gal so I can have great-grandkids before I depart this world.”
Jarred by her words—this was the first time she’d voiced anything like that—his thoughts flew unbidden to one local gal in particular. Glossy blond hair. Trim figure. Sweet smile. A bit on the bossy side at times.
He pushed Sandi’s captivating image away. No point in inviting any more trouble into his life.
“Not making you any promises on that one, Gran.” But he had promised to do his best to help her retain her independence as long as he could. Grandpa died when Bryce was seven and Grandma moved them upstairs, then rented out the first floor—eventually to the historical society. So if that meant him sleeping on the sofa in the tiny living room, just as he had when growing up, so be it. And if it meant raising the museum rent to supplement remodeling the downstairs so she could have accessible living quarters, he’d do that, too.
“Well, then, at least make yourself useful. Go pick up one of those corn bread mixes and a bag of Anasazi beans for me. That’ll be our dinner tonight. Anasazis don’t have to soak too many hours before cooking.”
“Who carries them?”
“Only place I know is the Warehouse.”
“You want me to go right now?” It was only one o’clock in the afternoon. Sandi would still be working her shift. As near as he’d been able to determine, once school had let out she’d been covering the noon to 4:00 p.m. hours several days a week.
Not that he’d been keeping track.
But had Grandma?
“I’m sorry, LeAnne, but I can’t chat right now. A few customers just came in. But I wanted to let you know not to expect us this evening.”
“You’re not coming for pizza?” “Something came up at the last minute.” “We’ve always gotten together on Friday evenings.” Each summer since Keith’s death, Friday nights had been their night. Renting movies. Going out to eat. Watching a ball game at the city park. Attending a community band concert or a family-friendly play at the local theater.
But the change in plans had come unexpectedly, and she didn’t dare pass up the opportunity to make her voice heard. Not if what Cate Landreth had told her was true. Her presence might make all the difference—if it wasn’t too late already.
LeAnne’s voice sharpened. “You’re going out with Bryce Harding, aren’t you?”
“Why would you think that?”
Sandi hadn’t spoken to him since last week. Thought about him maybe. Wondered where he’d been keeping himself.
“I saw the way he looked at you the night he showed up on your doorstep. I’m not so old that I don’t recognize male interest when I see it. He’s getting to you through Gina. Hero to the rescue with the hat. The Uncle Bryce thing.”
“I already explained that.” Had, in fact, explained it more than once since LeAnne’s regrettable encounter with Bryce. She’d clarified how she didn’t have the heart—even as much as she wanted to—to squelch the child’s spontaneous outpouring of affection that “uncle” played a part in.
But her mother-in-law still wasn’t buying it.
“I’m not seeing Bryce, LeAnne. I haven’t so much as talked to him since that night.”
“Then why the cancellation?”
She wouldn’t like the answer, but at least she’d get her off this Bryce fixation. “There’s a special meeting of the city council tonight. I’ve been told by a somewhat reliable source that with the new fiscal year starting July 1, there may be unanticipated cutbacks announced tonight.”
“You’re not on the city council.”
“No, but I’m a resident of this community and president of the Canyon Springs Historical Society. So if they’re contemplating cutting off our funding—as is rumored—I have a right to hear it in person, not in the weekly paper.”
“You’re getting yourself entirely too wrapped up with this museum business. It’s not good for you. Or Gina.”
She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Why couldn’t LeAnne give her a little credit? She wasn’t throwing herself into the museum because she didn’t have anything better to do. She had a plan. A goal. One that LeAnne would one day come to appreciate. “Keith loved this community, its history, and intended to get involved in the society when he returned.”
“But he didn’t return, now did he?” LeAnne’s voice cracked, and the sound pierced Sandi’s soul.
No, he hadn’t returned. Would never return.
Was that what this was all about? The suspicion? Accusations? All evidence that LeAnne was having a difficult time with the anniversary of Keith’s death, which was only weeks away? She blinked back the moisture in her own eyes, her voice softening. “Let’s get together tomorrow instead. Gina and I’ll bring pizza after work. We’ll spend the night. Okay, LeAnne?”
A choking sob echoed over the line and the phone in her hand went dead.
She let out a shaky gust of pent-up breath and wiped at the corner of her eye. She’d take LeAnne’s emotional response to her suggestion as a yes. It sounded as if her usually stalwart mother-in-law needed a heavy dose of TLC. The anniversary of Keith’s death always challenged Sandi’s own heart, as well, her faith—the latter of which LeAnne didn’t have to fall back on.
She hadn’t intended to disappoint her. LeAnne, despite their differences, meant so much to her. As Keith’s mom, but also as a friend. Sure, they’d gotten off to a rough start, but after his death Sandi had always known, without fail, there would be someone to share an otherwise empty evening. Then when back in Paradise Valley, LeAnne never failed to call on Friday nights to check in on her. Make sure she was okay.
But maybe the connection was as much for LeAnne as it was for her?
Composing herself, she stuffed her cell phone in her purse. Once the customers were checked out, she stepped onto the covered porch that faced Main Street, again noticing how traffic had picked up as desert temperatures a few hours to the south reached well beyond the hundred-degree mark.
A massive RV pulling a car rumbled down the hard-topped road in front of her, probably heading to Bill Diaz’s Lazy D Campground and RV Park or one of the other woodsy retreats in the off-the-beaten-path community.
“Good to see them back, isn’t it?”
With a start, she spun in the direction of the familiar male voice.
Chapter Eight
Sandi’s heart lifted inexplicably as, with a tilt of his Western hat, Bryce joined her on the plank-floored porch, his muscular arm motioning to the big “land whale” passing by. He grew up here, understood how important summer revenue was to the town.
So he should understand how important it was to the museum.
“Visitors are still sparse compared to some years,” she pointed out, tamping down her uncharitable thoughts. Being upset about LeAnne and Keith made her more susceptible than usual to negativity, especially when it came to Bryce. “But it’s a start. Feels like a carnival’s come to town. A little one anyway. Hopefully with extra cash in its pockets.”
Bryce nodded agreement, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You’re working this afternoon?”
“Yes. Why? Are you still hunting for a patch kit? I told you weeks ago to go to Pinetop-Lakeside, didn’t I?”
He scrubbed a hand along his bearded jaw, a smile tugging. “Yes, you did. But Grandma Mae sent me down here to pick up Anasazi beans for dinner tonight. Corn bread mix, too.”
Even with their origins dating back to the ancient Indians of the same name, she’d never heard of that type of bean until she moved to Arizona. “Well, at least those items are something we do have in stock.”
He swept off his hat and motioned her toward the entrance. “Shall we, then?”
She hesitated, then led the way into the shadowed interior of the two-story, stone-fronted building. As always, she found herself drawn to the ambiance of the beamed-ceiling space. The wooden floors. Navajo rugs adorning the walls. A lingering scent of smoke from the cast-iron woodstove.
“Is Gina still hanging on to her hat?”
Pausing at the dried goods shelf, she pulled out a bag of the sweet, nutty beans, their distinctive red-and-white markings showing clearly through the packaging. “She won’t let that cap out of her sight. She even sleeps with it now.”
“She can be mighty proud of the man who wore it.”
Her gaze flickered to his. “Yes, she can.”
Self-consciously she moved farther down the aisle and pointed to a rectangular box. “Is this the corn bread mix Mae’s looking for?”
“Seeing as how it’s the only brand in stock, I’m guessing it is.” He reached for it with a beleaguered grunt. “If it’s not, I guarantee you she’ll send me right back to exchange it.”
“Poor baby,” she found herself saying with an almost teasing lilt as they walked side by side to the checkout counter. “But I get the impression you’d be more than happy to make another trip to the Warehouse for her, wouldn’t you?”
A flash of alarm lit his gaze, then extinguished just as abruptly. What was that about?
“You’re right. There’s nothing on the planet I wouldn’t do for that woman, that’s for sure.”
“Mae’s fortunate to have you here,” she said, ringing up the grocery items. Mae, always a cheerful sort, seemed even happier since his return. “Which reminds me, thanks for fixing the faucet and the miniblinds. I come in almost every day and feel like I’m living a fairy tale. You know, where the brownies and elves slip in overnight to do their thing?”
He squinted one eye. “I think I’m a little too big to qualify for an elf, don’t you?”
She let an amused gaze rove over him, picturing him with pointy ears and boots curled up at the toes. “A supersize one maybe?”
He grinned as he paid her, then glanced almost reluctantly at his watch. “Well, I better get moving. Grandma will want to get started on dinner early so I don’t miss my meeting.”
“What meeting would that be?” Surely a community forum like she’d be attending wouldn’t hold any appeal for him.
His forehead creased. “City council. Special assembly.”
“I didn’t know you took an interest in the inner workings of Canyon Springs government.”
He studied her for a long moment. “There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Sandi Bradshaw.”
He winked, tipped his hat and headed to the door.
Whew. For a second th
ere when she got that bright look in her eye and said she imagined he wouldn’t mind another trip to the Warehouse, he thought—well, he wasn’t quite sure what he thought. Except that maybe she thought he was making up excuses to come down there to see her.
At least things didn’t seem so tense between them now. And thinking back, she didn’t tell him what to do about anything, either. That was progress. Maybe they could coexist in the same town after all. He’d actually found himself relaxing in her presence, although she’d seemed surprised that he might have an interest in city government. Like that was too intellectual for him?
What she didn’t know, though, was that he had a personal stake in tonight’s proceedings, that he waited to hear word on that firefighting opening that had been put on hold months ago. The new budget could be a deal breaker. The fire chief was certain he’d be a shoo-in for the position, but if the funding didn’t come through…
How long could he keep things together in Canyon Springs for himself and Grandma without a decent-paying job? Early on in his army career he hadn’t been a diligent saver except for a sizable cut faithfully sent home to Grandma Mae. It would cost tens of thousands to remodel the lower floor of her house. To make it handicapped accessible. From what he’d seen while prowling around the place this week, it needed all new wiring and plumbing, too, not just a cosmetic makeover.
“Bryce!”
Just as he crossed Main Street, he looked up to see Joe Diaz, Meg’s husband, headed in his direction. An ex-navy guy and now a regional paramedic, he and Bryce had known each other in school. While Joe had a longer history with God, he’d recently deepened that connection. So the two men were on more even ground than what Bryce felt with some other churchgoing guys.
“How’s life, bud?” Joe thrust out his hand for a shake.
“Decent. Yourself?”
“Keeping busy. Hey, are you joining the Bible study this summer? It’s just getting under way. Great opportunity to get to know some rock-solid men who’ll hold you accountable. You know, Proverbs 27:17. Iron-sharpening-iron stuff.”