by Jane Porter
“He’s been watching too much TV.”
“Agreed. But he’s now taking action. He’s arriving this weekend. He’s determined to get me to move—”
“But he can’t force you!”
“No. He can’t. But I don’t want to alienate him, either. I appreciate that he’s concerned about me. He’s the only family I have left, but I don’t want to live in San Jose or Saratoga or wherever he’s calling home now.” She poked her salad with her fork but didn’t even try to eat. “Marietta is my home. It’s always been my home. It’s where I raised my family and all my friends live—” She broke off and blinked back tears. “I wish I could make him understand, but he truly believes I will be better off with him in California than Montana.”
Amanda frowned. Bette was one of the sunniest, most cheerful women she knew, and it was hard to see her like this. “It’s going to be okay,” she said, covering Bette’s hand with hers. “He isn’t even here yet, and when he does arrive, you’ll just have to show him why you love Marietta so much so that he understands why you’re happy here.”
“I am torn, though. I would love to be closer to my grandson. He reminds me so much of my son. And I suppose that’s both good and bad, because Tyler’s father, Patrick, was really my heart. I had such difficulty conceiving, and had five miscarriages. Patrick was really my miracle baby. We’d given up thinking I could have a child, and then I was pregnant and he somehow made it all the way through, and so of course I was protective of him. Don, my husband, thought I spoiled him, but how could I not? Patrick was a joy… smart, busy, gregarious. He had the most delightful sense of humor and loved to make people laugh. Unfortunately, Don didn’t have a sense of humor and, from the beginning, he and Patrick butted heads. It didn’t help that Patrick was extremely independent, and he wanted to do things his way.”
“But isn’t that normal? Kids rebel. It’s part of growing up.”
“They do, yes, absolutely, but my late husband was a former military man, and he expected his son to follow orders. Only Patrick didn’t follow anyone’s orders, not unless they made sense to him, and the more Donald tried to discipline Patrick, the more Patrick resented his father. And then they had a huge fight over a girl Patrick was dating. Donald didn’t approve of her, and Patrick was told that we wouldn’t help him with college if he didn’t stop seeing her. Patrick didn’t, and Donald threw him out, a month before his high school graduation.”
“What happened then?”
“Patrick graduated, and left for the West Coast, where he went to school on an ROTC scholarship, and he came home only one more time, and then never again.”
Bette sighed. “It was a mess, and heartbreaking.”
“Especially if he was your only child.”
“I was constantly in the middle of those two, and so it was something of a relief when Patrick went away to school, but in some ways it was even worse when he never returned after that first visit.”
“Did you not see him then?”
“I’d go see him in California, but Don wouldn’t go with me.”
“So you were always in the middle.”
Bette’s eyes filled with tears. “Patrick died a year after Don in a skiing accident. It was just one of those freaks accidents.”
“I remember that.”
Bette nodded. “And now I have this chance with my grandson, and while I don’t want to leave Marietta, I don’t want to risk losing out on this chance to know him better, and have him in my life.”
“I completely understand that.”
“He doesn’t understand Montana, though. He thinks our winters are too long and harsh. He worries about me being here all alone.”
“You can’t blame him, not if he’s a Californian. But you’re also far from alone.”
“I know, and that’s why I want you to help me when he comes to visit this weekend. I want you to show him around Marietta. Give him a tour of the area… let him see the Marietta we know and love.”
“Me?”
“You’re young and pretty—”
“This is a very bad idea.”
“He’ll love you.”
“I don’t want him to love me. I want him to love you. And I want him to support your desire to remain in Marietta for as long as you wish to be here.” Amanda’s gaze met Bette’s. “You do want to still be here, don’t you? Or, are you maybe ready for a move to Northern California?”
“Marietta is home,” Bette answered firmly. “This is where I want to be.”
“You could always come back here for visits—”
“And leave all my friends? Leave my bridge group? And my birthday group? The girls and I have been together for over fifty years!”
Amanda smiled, because she knew Bette’s bridge club and birthday club and the ‘girls’ were all in their eighties as well. “You do have great friends here.”
“Exactly! I just need a little help convincing him that Marietta, Montana is where I belong.”
Mandy gave Bette a long look. “Just know that I won’t be part of your matchmaker schemes.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“You have. Several times.”
“Well, I promised you I wouldn’t interfere, and I haven’t again, have I?”
“No. And that’s good, because I’ve never been happier, nor have I ever worked harder. The last thing I want, or need, is a man. He’d only complicate everything—” She broke off, her brow creasing. “What did you say his name was?”
“Tyler Justice.”
So not Ty James, Mandy thought. But just to be on the safe side, she had to ask. “Does he ever go by Ty? Or Ty James?”
“Well, his middle name is James, and I suppose people might call him Ty. His parents called him Tyler, and I’ve only ever called him Tyler.” Bette paused. “Why do you ask?”
“Do you have a picture of him?”
“I do somewhere. Not here.”
“Not on your iPhone?”
“I still don’t know how to do that, Amanda.”
Mandy hid her smile. “What does he look like?”
“Why all these questions?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just humor me. Is he tall or short? Does he have dark hair or is he blond? Does he even have hair?”
“Of course he has hair! He has thick brown hair and green eyes, and he’s a little over six feet tall. Maybe six feet one. And he’s handsome. He has a lovely face—he inherited his dad’s good looks. I know I’m his grandmother but Tyler is swoon worthy.”
“Huh.”
“Why?”
She pictured the tall, broad shouldered man in her chair earlier, and the high hard cheekbones, as well as the firm chin and strong brow. “I was just curious. Just in case I… bump… into him here in town.”
“He’s not arriving until Friday night.”
“And then he’ll be staying at the Graff?”
“No! With me, of course.” Bette looked indignant. “I’d never let family say at a hotel. That’s dreadful.”
“Right.”
Chapter Two
Her three o’clock appointment was a no-show due to car troubles, and Amanda was almost glad because her brain was spinning and her stomach was churning. After glancing at her watch, and then out the window, she grabbed her coat and told Emily she’d be back in time for her four o’clock client, and then buttoning her coat, Amanda headed down Second Avenue, toward Main Street and then on to Front before turning to the Graff.
It was a cloudless day, just cold and windy, not surprising as it was late February and Marietta was always windy. Amanda walked briskly, the odd leaf and twig swirling past, taking deep breaths, trying to check her temper, but it wasn’t easy because she was seriously angry. She’d been played by Bette’s grandson, no less.
Amanda asked the front desk if there was a housephone she could use to call Tyler James’s room. The rather dour front-desk clerk pointed to the phone against the lobby wall, but then added, “But he’s not in his room at the
moment. He was just here asking about a place to get food and I directed him to the bar.”
Amanda nodded her thanks and headed to the back where the old-fashioned bar had a cozy pub feel with its green leather booths, big antique counter, and glowing copper ceiling. After being refurbished for much of the last year, the handsome, antique bar was back in place, in its position of glory, and Amanda’s friend, bartender Shane Knight was behind the counter.
Amanda nodded at Shane and then scanned the room, spotting Tyler at a booth on the opposite wall.
Her temper spiked again. “Tyler James Justice,” she said, reaching his side.
He’d been reading a message on his phone and his head lifted abruptly. As his gaze met hers, his expression went from pleased to surprised and then wary.
“Your grandmother thinks you’re arriving Friday night,” she added tersely. “Won’t she be surprised when she discovers you actually arrived on Tuesday and have been staying at the Graff.”
“Care to sit?” he replied, gesturing to the leather booth across from him.
She looked at him for a long moment before sliding into the booth.
“When did you figure out I was her grandson?” he asked.
“When she came by at lunch and told me her grandson, Tyler Justice, was coming to town and she hoped I’d be nice to you and show you around.” Amanda smiled grimly. “It wasn’t difficult to put Ty James and Tyler Justice together.”
“You haven’t told her I’m here though, have you?”
“No. I don’t want to upset her. She’s excited about your visit. She’s so looking forward to seeing you.” She continued to hold his gaze, wanting him to feel the full weight of her displeasure. “I’m not entirely sure why you told her Friday and arrived Tuesday, but that’s none of my business. I just don’t want to see her hurt.”
“And why would I hurt her?”
“I’m not sure. But maybe sneaking into town—”
“I’m not sneaking.”
“She doesn’t know you’re here though, and you gave me a false name.”
“I gave you my name.”
“But not your surname. Because you knew I’d recognize the name Justice.” Her voice grew harder, her tone frostier. “Not sure what you were doing in my chair earlier, asking so many questions.”
“She’s talked a lot about you. I was curious to find out more about you.”
“Then why not introduce yourself as Bette’s grandson? You commented on her chair. You heard me say she was a favorite client.”
The waitress approached, and asked if Amanda would like to order something. Amanda was about to say no, when she realized she was shivering on the inside, from nerves and cold. “I could use a coffee.”
“Nothing to eat?” Tyler asked.
“No, but thank you,” she added to the waitress, giving her a smile. Her smile disappeared as the waitress walked away and she looked at Tyler. “I’m not hungry because I had lunch with your grandmother an hour ago, just before her hair appointment.”
“Do you do that often?”
“Once or twice a week.”
“Is she that lonely?”
Amanda stiffened. “What kind of question is that?”
“I’m genuinely curious.”
“Your grandmother is not at all lonely. She plays in a duplicate bridge group. She is part of a birthday club. She is part of a gardening club. Bette organizes a weekly movie matinee day at the Palace Theatre and she is the ringleader of thirty some seniors that meet for the movies every Wednesday. Why don’t you go tomorrow and see how lonely she is?”
“Why so hostile?”
“Why assume she is lonely, just because she and I are close?”
His broad shoulders shifted carelessly. His expression was equally detached. Amanda couldn’t get a read on him.
“I would think you’d both prefer the company of someone closer to your own ages,” he said.
Her chin notched up. “Apparently, you’re confused, but then, you’re not the only one. Bette is confused, too. She thinks you’re arriving Friday to convince her to move to California, only you’re not living in California, are you? Didn’t you say you’re in Austin? Maybe you should explain to her where she’d live and why, since she thinks you’re a stand-up, honest guy?” She gave him another long, pointed look before rising. “I’ll get my coffee to go.”
“I am an honest guy. And if you’d give me a chance to explain—”
“I don’t believe in manipulating people or playing games.”
“I’m not playing games.”
“That’s right. You just design them.” She shot him a reproachful look and started for the bar counter but he reached out to catch her sleeve, his fingertips just brushing the inside of her bare wrist.
“What are you going to tell my grandmother?” he asked.
It had only been the briefest of touches, and yet she could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and for a moment she couldn’t think, torn between anger and disappointment. She’d so enjoyed talking to him earlier, when she’d cut his hair, and yet now she just wanted to put distance between them. “I’m not going to tell her anything. She’s your grandmother. But do the right thing so that you don’t end up hurting her. She’s so excited to see you. Be kind to her.”
“I would never hurt her. I adore Gram—”
“Well, so do I.” And then she moved on, walking to the bar where Shane was pouring drinks.
“What can I get for you, Mandy?” Shane asked, brushing a long tendril of blonde hair behind her ear.
“I’d ordered a coffee but I need to get back to the salon. Can I get it to go instead?”
“No problem.”
Shane filled a paper cup, popped a lid on it, and handed it over, but then waved off Mandy’s money. “I’ve got this. Get back to work and keep making Marietta beautiful.”
Amanda laughed and headed out, but her smile faded as she approached Tyler’s booth. She squared her shoulders, and kept her gaze fixed on the door so she wouldn’t make eye contact with him, and then only exhaled after she was in the hall.
For a moment Tyler just sat there, watching Amanda exit the hotel bar, and then he rose and threw down some bills and followed her out.
Amanda was hurt, and angry, and he didn’t blame her. He should have told her who he was earlier, especially when his grandmother’s name was mentioned, but he wanted to learn as much about Amanda Wright as he could, without her being guarded, or defensive, but of course she didn’t know any of that.
He caught up with her in the middle of the Graff’s formal lobby. “Slow down,” he said gruffly, putting a hand to her upper arm. “Please?”
She stopped walking to face him, but her expression was no longer friendly or smiling, and it crossed his mind that while he still didn’t know very much about her, he’d discovered that although pretty, she wasn’t soft, and she wasn’t a pushover. Amanda Wright had a backbone. Nor did she appreciate being played for a fool.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice deep, and rough. He was uncomfortable and embarrassed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was earlier. And I apologize if I’ve made things awkward. That wasn’t my intention.”
“Then what was your intention, booking me for a haircut and giving me a false name?”
“It’s my real name.”
“And telling me you were here for a business meeting?” She looked him in the eye, unblinking, unflinching. “What was that about?”
“I do have a business meeting. Two, actually, one with an investment broker, and another with a local Realtor.”
“Why? Are you investing in Marietta? Thinking of a buying a house, or business here?”
“It never hurts to understand a local economy.”
Her full lips compressed. “There are different ways to get to know a community. There is more to Marietta than its economy—which is booming, lately. If you really want to know why your grandmother loves Marietta, get to know her friends. Discov
er the town. Join her for the Wednesday matinee movie. Take her to dinner at Rocco’s, or pie at the diner—”
“Gram turns eighty this year.”
“That’s right, in June, and we’re working on a lovely party for her, too.”
“She’s not going to live forever.”
“No one does, Ty. But what makes you think she’d be happier living with you in Texas or wherever it is you call home now?”
“Well, I’d be there.”
“Yes, but you work, don’t you? And I’m sure you have a social life. You’re not going to sit home with her twenty-four seven.”
“She’d make new friends.”
Amanda drew a sharp breath, furious. “Of course you’d say that.” Frustration filled her. He didn’t get it, did he? Bette would be lost without her friends in Marietta. Her friends were the ones that had been there for her after Don’s death, and Patrick’s funeral. Friends had given her life meaning. They wouldn’t be easily replaced. Nor would Marietta be the same without her. “You don’t understand how important she is here in Marietta, and how much she does for the community.”
“I know she’s a generous source of support—”
“This isn’t about her making donations and writing checks.” Amanda gripped her cup tightly. She couldn’t remember when she last felt so upset. “Bette is loved. And she loves us. And we don’t want to lose her.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then start spending time here! Come see her. Get to know her on her terms. Don’t make her sacrifice everything just to have a relationship with you.”
“Life is about change. It’s about being flexible, adaptable.”
“You might be brilliant at creating software, but you don’t know the first thing about people. She’s not a character in one of your games. Maybe you’re the one that needs to be flexible and adapt.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe you should consider moving here.” And then she was walking away from him again, quickly. This time he didn’t pursue her.
Tyler walked from the Graff to his grandmother’s house on Bramble. Her home was on the north end, closer to the high school than the courthouse. Many of the homes around her were modest Victorians, nothing as grand as the big, stately homes surrounding the historic Bramble House B&B but they all embodied turn of the century American charm.