by Lynn Bulock
“Thank you,” Kaitlyn said. “If you marry Mr. Tate, maybe you can give him grandpa lessons, because you’ve sure got the spoiling kids thing down.”
Her father only rolled his eyes, while Miranda knew she’d never seen Tate laugh so hard. When she looked over to her father, he seemed to have a wistful look in his eyes. Did he ever regret keeping so much distance from his daughters? Perhaps he could start over with grandchildren like Kaitlyn and the others who Miranda was sure would follow.
“Are you having one of these?” Greg asked, breaking into her deep thoughts. “They’re fantastic, but then you probably know that already.”
“It’s not something we have very often,” she told him, taking a small cream puff off the serving plate. “And I can’t very well let you sit here alone and have your dessert, can I?”
“I planned to join him, Miranda,” Tate told her. “If I have one, we can probably even talk Winnie into sitting back down and enjoying dessert as well.”
“Then while you do that, I’ll walk down with these three and be on my way,” Ronald said, rising quickly. “I hate to be the last here and one of the first to leave, but I have a golf game set up at the club in twenty minutes.”
Naturally, Miranda thought. Her father could only sustain his best behavior so long. But no one argued and within a few minutes half the table had left.
“I still want to visit your father before I leave,” Greg told Winnie over coffee. “Would it be best if you went with me?”
Winnie shook her head. “Actually Miranda would be a better companion if you’re going to see Father. He’s always doted on her and her sisters, and even now when he’s so ill, he usually has a smile for his granddaughters. I only seem to upset him much of the time.”
“All right, then. Once we finish here I hope you’ll take me to see your grandfather, Miranda.”
“Of course,” she said. Another chance to be alone, if even for a moment, with Greg. She thought of showing him her studio while they were on the third floor. Then she remembered the eerie singing of last week. Visiting her grandfather would be plenty.
NINE
Every time Greg went through the Blanchard house he wanted to ask the inhabitants how they lived there. The place looked like a museum: marble floors, crystal chandeliers, artwork on the walls that probably exceeded his yearly salary by a factor of ten, and a lot of furniture he’d be afraid to sit on.
At least Winnie’s sunporch had been a different story. All the way over here he’d been nervous about accepting her invitation, afraid that he’d be faced with elaborate place settings in the formal dining room and pick up the wrong fork in front of Ronald Blanchard. In his heart he knew that impressing any human being didn’t have to be high on his list of priorities, but sometimes his brain had other ideas.
Now he’d survived the meal and Miranda was leading him to her grandfather’s rooms. The front staircase and hallways leading from Winnie’s sunporch to the old gentleman’s part of the mansion were decorated in the style he usually associated with this place. Miranda, walking beside him, took all this luxury for granted. Seeing that made little doubts creep in about whether she could possibly ever be the woman that God had in mind for him.
Of course, after three meetings—two of them in the company of other people—and one kiss, he told himself he shouldn’t be considering that anyway. Surely when the right woman came into his life he would know without a doubt…wouldn’t he? Greg kept asking God that question but so far a firm answer eluded him.
When they reached the six-panel walnut door that led to her grandfather’s rooms, Miranda stiffened. “This isn’t right.”
Greg couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What isn’t right? All I see is an open door.”
“That’s it. Even when the private-duty nurses take over for Nurse Peg on her day off, the door is shut,” she said, a furrow forming on her lovely forehead. She pushed the door even more widely open and Greg could hear raised voices coming from the room beyond.
“I don’t want strangers accosting me in my home, young woman. If you want something from Blanchard Fabrics, come to my office on Monday morning!” The male voice was querulous and a little wheezy; it must have been Miranda’s grandfather.
“Mr. Blanchard, I’m not a stranger. It’s Alannah. You remember me, I’m sure,” a smooth feminine voice replied. She appeared to think that volume would cut through the old gentleman’s confusion.
“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Mr. Blanchard said. “Now get out of here before I call the police.”
Miranda pushed past Greg. He followed her into the room as quickly as possible. “That won’t be necessary, Grandfather. I’ll make sure this person doesn’t bother you again.” Greg was seeing a side of Miranda he hadn’t witnessed before. While normally she hung back a little, the possibility of a threat to her grandfather pushed her into action.
“Let me help you,” he offered, firmly grasping the left arm of the wide-eyed redhead while Miranda took her right. “I’m sure Ms. Stafford doesn’t want to disturb you, Mr. Blanchard.”
“I don’t know who you are, either, young fellow, but if you’re helping Miranda out you must be okay.” Howard Blanchard sat back in his armchair. “Come back when you’re through, won’t you, Miranda?”
“Of course we will. It won’t be long.” Miranda’s voice was soothing until she crossed the threshold of her grandfather’s suite. Then it hardened. “Now, Ms. Stafford, suppose you explain what on earth you were doing here as we go downstairs. Perhaps if you’re pleasant we won’t inform Detective Campbell and ask that you be charged with trespassing and assault.”
Alannah tossed her finely cut hair. While the woman might have extremely poor judgment, she was impeccably dressed. Greg had to guess that her cream knit pants and top represented enough money to pay all of Unity’s musicians for a Sunday morning. “You’re kidding, right? I didn’t assault anyone. And how can it possibly be trespassing when I have my own key?”
Miranda’s glare told Greg that he didn’t want to cross her anytime soon. The woman he’d figured for sweet-natured and calm didn’t look that way now. She looked more like a protective mama bear. “If you have a key to any part of this house it’s only because you didn’t give it back when my father told you to. I believe that’s still trespassing.”
“You can believe whatever you like.” They stood in the marble front hall and Alannah shook off their hands. “I just wanted to talk to Howard. He’s always had a soft spot for me and I thought he could bring Ronald to his senses.”
Miranda’s lip curled. “My father came to his senses weeks ago and broke off the relationship he had with you. Using a man as ill as my grandfather to try to change that is reprehensible.”
“If I’d had any idea how sick he was I wouldn’t have tried it. Honestly, he’s gone downhill severely in a very short time. How you keep him here is beyond me.”
Miranda opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything Greg heard someone behind them. A small blond woman in a pale green top and pants pounded down the stairs. “What is going on here? Mr. Blanchard is terribly upset. I’m glad that I came back to check up on things.”
“I have to admit, Peg, that if you had been here I doubt Ms. Stafford would have gotten into Grandfather’s room.” Miranda turned toward Greg. “Peg Henderson is my grandfather’s nurse. She’s taken care of him like a family member for the five years she’s been in the house. Peg, I’d like you to meet Reverend Brown.”
“I’ll be happy to greet you in a few minutes, Reverend, as soon as we get this person out of the house.” The petite woman headed toward the much taller Alannah, who backed away from her with both hands raised, palms out.
“I’m going. You don’t have to come any closer. I’ll be happy to leave on my own.” Another toss of her head was probably designed to show off Alannah’s expertly tinted and styled hair. Instead it made Greg think of a high-strung mare about to jump a fence. “This is the w
eirdest house I’ve ever been in. The entire place gives me the creeps.”
“Perhaps that was guilt at being where you shouldn’t have been,” Greg told her.
“No, I think it was the security cameras in the powder room.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ms. Stafford. There’s no such thing here.” Miranda edged their unwelcome guest toward the front door.
“Right. I just felt someone was watching me the entire time I was in there. Just my imagination.”
“Have it your way,” Miranda said. “We will be watching you from now on, you can be sure. And I’ll take that key.” She held out her hand without saying another word.
At first Alannah merely pouted, but then she reached into a pocket and dropped the key into Miranda’s outstretched palm as if she were getting rid of something distasteful. “Go ahead. I won’t need it anymore.”
Miranda’s slim fingers closed over the key. “Good. If you want to contact my father I suggest you plan to do so through an attorney.” She walked to the front door and pointedly held it open for Alannah. To emphasize the move, Greg stayed with the two women, herding the intruder toward the door.
Alannah looked at the two of them and glared, standing at the bottom of the stairs to the front portico of the house. “You’re going to be so very, very sorry. All of you.” Then she whirled and flounced out to the circular driveway. With hardly a backward glance she slid into a flashy black convertible and fled, tires spitting fine white rock as she took a corner a little too fast.
“Good riddance,” said Peg so firmly Greg expected her to dust off her hands in the universal gesture of getting rid of someone. During the confrontation with Alannah, Greg had almost forgotten the nurse stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Now I’ll go upstairs to your poor, dear grandfather. Perhaps after you give me a few minutes to calm him down the two of you could come up so that the Reverend and I can be formally introduced.”
“I’ll do that.” Miranda looked at her watch. “We’ll be up in fifteen minutes.”
Peg nodded and went up the staircase almost as swiftly as she had come down. Miranda watched her leave with a heavy sigh. “You probably think we’re hopeless, Gregory. All this money and prestige and we can’t even protect one sick old man.”
She called him Gregory. Where had that come from? Nobody had called him that since his mother died. From Miranda he liked it, though. She looked troubled, and Greg put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think anyone could have foreseen something like this. Why don’t you sit down for a few minutes and calm yourself. Do you think there’s anything we need to do to alert the security staff about Ms. Stafford?”
Miranda went into the living room just off the hall and sat on a love seat. “I don’t know. We’ve got the key now, so she can’t get back in unless she made a duplicate. Given that it’s her I wouldn’t put that past her, so maybe I ought to call and leave a message for the security firm.”
“And as you told Ms. Stafford, you ought to tell Mick right away, too. With everything that’s happened to your family, he’d want to hear about something like this.”
“That’s true. Thank you for helping me.”
Greg laughed. “What kind of guy would I be if I didn’t protect a lady?”
“Definitely not the kind I’ve gotten to know that you are so far,” Miranda said, eyes sparkling. The look of devotion she gave him made his stomach sink.
He wanted to tell her to back off. Falling for him would only lead her to be hurt. He wasn’t the hero she seemed to think he was. And the last thing Miranda needed in her life was more pain. “How about we go up and visit your grandfather now,” he suggested, trying to defuse the situation. Perhaps if he tried to just stay in his pastoral role they’d both be better off.
Miranda led Greg back to her grandfather’s suite. This time the door was firmly shut as she expected it should be. That eased her mind a little, because it promised that Peg had put things in order again. She knocked and, after a moment, Peg came to the door. “Do come in, Miranda. I think he’s much calmer now.”
Peg motioned to the high-backed chair that was Howard’s favorite. He sat there, looking considerably less upset than he had earlier with Alannah in the room. “Miranda’s back and she brought that nice young man with her.” She took Howard’s hand and Miranda was struck once more by how good Peg was with the older man. “Howard, this is Reverend Brown. He’s the new pastor at Unity where Winnie goes to church.”
“Good to meet you, young fellow. The way you backed Miranda up back there I thought you might be part of the security staff.”
“No, just coming to make a call on you, actually. I thought you might want a chance to hear the Good News and perhaps have me pray with you.” Gregory took Howard’s hand and shook it gently, then sat in the chair closest to him to put Miranda’s grandfather at ease.
Miranda marveled at how quickly he connected with Howard. Given that her grandfather was notoriously hard to make friends with at this time of his life, the visit really played up Greg’s talent.
Howard gave a dry laugh that almost turned into a wheeze. Peg hovered over him and he waved her away. “I’m all right, Peg. She worries about me like a mother hen,” he said. “And I don’t want your prayers, Reverend Brown. The Good News left this house for me when my Ethel died.”
Miranda felt a twist of sorrow listening to her grandfather. He lived in the past more and more these days, and his past hadn’t been a happy place for a long time.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, sir. I believe that Jesus is always here to walk beside us in our troubles, even the worst of them. Scripture tells us that He is a man of sorrows. There’s no place of pain that we can be in where He hasn’t been there first. No place of joy, either, but that’s a different story,” Greg said.
“That it truly is, and one I’m not nearly as familiar with, I’m afraid.” For a moment Howard looked thoughtful in a way Miranda hadn’t seen in quite some time.
“Why don’t you tell me a little bit about Ethel,” Greg suggested, leaning forward in his chair.
Howard brightened and began to hold forth. Miranda sat quietly and listened to more than she’d ever heard about the grandmother who had died long before she was born.
If her grandfather’s remembrances were right about his wife, Miranda mused about how different all of their lives might have been had she lived. With a woman that strong and loving by his side, would Howard have taken such an instant dislike to Mama? And without that stress in her life, would her mother have gone down the path she did, leading to her disappearance?
Greg put in an occasional word, drawing more out of Howard. The old man’s eyes blazed and he gestured with his hands, enjoying his own story. “And let me tell you, young man, Ethel was beautiful on the outside, not just the inside. She was tall and dark haired and absolutely stunning. Not at all like my—”
“Howard, you’ve worn yourself out,” Peg cut in sharply, breaking off what he was saying.
Miranda felt dismay. For a moment she was all set to hear her grandfather say something about her mother. Instead he looked up at Peg and nodded.
“Yes, I imagine you’re right.” Howard settled back in his chair. “Perhaps I ought to take a nap.”
“It’s my fault,” Greg said, looking at Peg apologetically. “I’ve overstayed my time listening to Mr. Blanchard’s story.” He stood and Miranda joined him. “If you’ll indulge me I’ll say a very short prayer.”
Greg put a hand gently on Howard’s shoulder. Peg opened her mouth to say something but must have thought better of it, because she stayed silent. Miranda, bowing her head, was surprised to see out of the corner of her eye how perturbed her grandfather’s nurse looked.
“Dear Lord, thank you for the gift of the long marriage to Ethel that you gave to Howard. You know the pain he feels in his heart from missing her, and the hardships of illness and age that he bears as well. Please find ways to remind him how much You love him. Thank You for the kind
care You have brought him in the ministry of Peg and the love of his family. We pray in Your name, as You taught us,” he said, and began the familiar words of the Lord’s Prayer. Even Howard joined in, surprising Miranda.
When they had finished Greg said a quick goodbye to Howard and Peg. Then Miranda led him back out of her grandfather’s suite. “That was really something in there. I’ve never heard that much about my grandmother before.”
“Have you asked?” Greg’s brown eyes searched her face.
“I have, but I don’t think the timing was ever right. Listening to Grandfather really makes me wonder how different everything would have been in our family if my grandmother had lived.”
Greg took her hands and she could feel a rush of warmth through her. “It’s hard to know what might have been. And it’s almost never helpful, because all that we can do is second-guess life.”
The depth of feeling in his words made Miranda wonder what kind of second-guessing he might have done about his own life. Before she could ask, the moment passed and he let go of her hands.
“I’ve probably overstayed my welcome with more than your grandfather.” He made a wry face. “I need to head home and see what’s on my agenda for tomorrow, I guess.”
Miranda wanted to protest, to keep him for much longer, but that wasn’t her place. Gregory was responsible to a few hundred people as senior pastor of Unity. She couldn’t keep him around just for her comfort. Reluctantly she went down the stairs with him. When they got to the first floor they went looking for Winnie. She didn’t seem to be inside, and when Miranda noticed the sunshine outdoors, she knew where her aunt was likely to be.
She took Gregory out to the rose garden. Winnie, changed into her gardening clothes and floppy hat, stood between two large bushes taking dead blooms off them. “So, how was your visit with Father?” she asked. Miranda could tell from her expression that her aunt felt a bit anxious about things.