by Nana Malone
As her mom headed for the door, she said, “I have a list of chores for you tomorrow, so don’t be sleeping all day.”
Her dad had a look of resignation on his face. “I’ll try to keep her away as long as possible. Goodnight, kiddo. It’s good to have you home.”
He closed the door, leaving her alone.
The nervousness from earlier returned. With the off chance that her grandpa was lurking somewhere in a corner, she climbed between the sheets fully clothed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and turned off the light. Darkness enveloped the room. She shivered beneath the heavy down quilt and waited for her grandpa to appear.
Nothing, only the sound of her mom’s giggle and her dad’s seductive baritone.
Amanda laid down on her back, pulled the pillow around her ears and stared into the darkness. But with every breath she took, her anticipation grew until she could stand it no longer. “Gramps, are you there?”
A flash of white lit up the center of the room and she bolted up in bed, the covers clutched to her chin, her heart thundering in her chest.
The ghost of her Grandpa George floated across the room, headed straight for her.
Certain that she was awake and not hallucinating, Amanda yanked herself out of her stunned state and back to — she glanced around her, then back at him — reality? She leaned forward, gazed into his familiar gray eyes and spoke slowly. “Gramps, what do you want with me?”
“Elvira is still my wife and I need to protect her from that con-artist, Morty Weatherby.”
“Mr. Weatherby is a con-artist?”
“That’s right. He wants her money.” Grandpa got this calculating look in his eyes. “If you help me out, I’ll make sure she leaves you a little in her will.”
“Hard to do when you’re dead. Besides, I don’t want Grandma’s money. I just want her to be happy.” He looked exactly like her grandfather. If it wasn’t for the fog swirling through his body, she could almost believe he was really here. “I know for a fact that Mr. Weatherby was born in Cranberry Cove, eighty-five years ago, just like you.”
Grandpa stopped pacing, bent at the waist to lean toward her and seemed to grow six inches. “I’ve known that weasel since we were in the crib and I tell you, he can’t be trusted.”
Amanda shifted away from him, nervous. “The wedding is in three days, Gramps. Even if I was inclined to help you out, heck, even if I believed you were really here, there’s not enough time. Besides, I don’t want to break Grandma’s heart.”
He shrank down to his regular size, his shoulders slumped, and the tightness in her stomach eased. “What if I could prove to you that Morty’s not really in love with her? That the fricking bastard is just trifling with her heart? And after he has his way with her, he’ll discard her, like he’s discarded his past three wives? Bumpkin, you have to stop the wedding.”
She stared back at him, not knowing what to say.
Looking calmer now, he dragged the old armchair over to her bed, sat down and pulled his toque off his head. “Close your mouth, bumpkin, and let me tell you the story of how Elvira and I met. Back in 1933, I was just a wee boy of six...”
Having heard this story at least a dozen times before, Amanda tuned out.
Valentine’s Day brought out the worst in her grandpa, but maybe he had a point. It seemed like Grandma Elvira had rushed into the wedding.
* * * * *
Chapter Two
The next morning, Amanda woke to the bang of a downstairs door and the clank of a heavy pot hitting the counter, followed by the familiar sound of her mom calling up to her from the first floor. Like she’d done a zillion times before.
“Amanda, time to wake up. The day is getting shorter but my list sure isn’t.”
With a groan, she rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head.
Sheesh. It felt like only a few moments since she’d fallen asleep. Gramps had talked and talked and talked—
Gramps?
With a start, she sat up and searched the room for tendrils of the foggy mist that warned her that her grandpa was nearby. But there was nothing in the air, only dust motes dancing in the sliver of sunlight streaming through the narrow gap between the window blinds.
It had to have been a dream. Yeah, that was it. A dream initiated by the knock on the head. With her fingertips, she found a tiny bump. Sweet relief sapped the starch from her body and she slumped back on the bed.
Outside her room, she heard the heavy footsteps of her dad as he stomped up the stairs. He stopped outside her bedroom door and rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Wake up, kiddo. I’m opening this door, so make sure you’re decent.”
“I’m up, Dad.” She pushed the pillow against the headboard and scootched back on the bed. The door swung open and her dad stepped into the room. “Morning, Dad. What time is it?”
“Almost noon.” He glanced over his shoulder before he turned back to her and lowered his voice. “I ran interference as long as I could, but your mom insists you get up. She’s making your grandma’s wedding cake and that list of hers keeps getting longer instead of shorter.”
For the first time ever, Amanda noticed how much her dad looked like Gramps, the silver running through his hair a perfect match to his gray eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s why I came early.”
“Thank God you did. Your mother is running in twelve different directions at once and she’s got me spinning in circles after her.” The frustrated tone of his voice softened and he huffed out a sigh. “Don’t make me come back up here to get you.”
“I won’t.”
He started to pull the door shut, then stopped. “What’s that?”
Amanda followed his gaze, saw her grandpa’s toque on the seat of the armchair next to her bed, and panic flashed through her body.
No way.
Her dad crossed the room and picked up the toque. “Where did you find this old thing?”
“I—uh—Grandma must have left it in here.”
“My dad’s been gone for nearly fourteen years now. I thought Ma was over it a long time ago.” With a loving gesture, he stroked the soft knit, then set the toque back on the chair where he’d found it before he headed back toward the door. “Maybe you should pack that old thing in your suitcase, kiddo, so your grandma doesn’t see it again.”
As the door closed behind him, Amanda glared at the offensive bit of material, then looked around the room, expecting to see her grandpa pop up at any moment. Nothing. “Come on, Gramps, where are you hiding?”
Still nothing.
“Fine, be that way,” she muttered. She slid her feet out from beneath the covers and just as she felt the cold floor against the bottom of her feet, Gramps appeared. He came through the wall like it wasn’t even there, his silver hair bare until he floated to the armchair, retrieved the toque and pulled it over the top of his head.
Not a figment of her imagination.
She pinched the fleshy part of her arm and winced.
Not a dream either.
The blurred outline of his body shimmered and danced in the slice of sunlight coming through the window. Battling the urge to run, she took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. “Gramps, why are you here?”
“I told you last night, bumpkin.” He laid his right hand against his chest, as though he’d been mortally wounded. “You must convince your grandma she’s making a mistake. Morty can’t be trusted.”
Amanda glared at the white glow shimmering around his familiar form. Praying he wouldn’t follow her, she stood up and headed for the door. “You’re not my grandfather. You’re a ghost. Go back to where you came from and leave me alone.”
Downstairs, the yellow can of whipping cream had been moved from the front entrance to the hallway. She wiped it from her mind — there was enough going on without adding more troublesome thoughts to the mix — and pasted on a cheery smile as she entered the kitchen. “Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, honey.” Her mom stood at
the cupboard stirring a bowl of batter. She lifted the spoon and used it to point across the room. “Look who stopped in to say hello.”
As Amanda followed the direction of the spoon, she encountered Dane Weatherby’s familiar green gaze. Without the glasses he’d worn in high school and college, the color in his eyes seemed more brilliant. Heat warmed her cheeks. Suddenly, she wished she’d taken the time to shower and change. With nowhere to run and hide, she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and took a single step back. “Dad, you didn’t tell me we had company.”
Her dad twisted on his chair to face her. As soon as he saw her ratty sweatshirt with the gravy stain down the front, and the baggy sweats she’d worn on the trip from the city and then to bed, his warm smile evaporated. He turned back to his guest. “She, uh, usually looks better than this.”
“Looks just like the Mandy I remember.” Dane unfolded his big body from the kitchen chair and closed the distance between them, until over six feet of hunky man stood before her. His gaze filled with laughter and something else. Something that looked a lot like affection and made her body heat in a decidedly pleasurable way. “All you need is a box of Valentine chocolates to complete the image of the adorable girl I remember.”
She stifled the urge to throw herself at him and scowled up at him instead. “Ha ha and hello.”
His broad shoulders shifted beneath the bulky material of his winter coat. As he grinned down at her and held out both arms, a slow, easy, sexy smile turned up the edges of his mouth. “Give me a hug, your Grinchness.”
“I prefer princess.”
He laughed, as she expected him to. “Never going to happen. Not when you’re so grinchy and grumpy.”
Amanda hesitated for only a moment before she stepped into his arms and against his big body. He wrapped her in his warmth, and she inhaled the scent of delicious man and aftershave.
Through the barrier of clothes that separated them, she heard the thump of his heart, felt hers thump in response. Desire sizzled through her body, awakening parts that had never reacted to his presence before, and she shivered.
Against the top of her head, she felt his lips move, heard his whispered words. “I’ve missed you.”
Oh no.
Amanda pushed out of his arms.
He rocked back on his heels, seemingly unaware of her sudden retreat, his gaze flicking over her. “It’s obvious I came at a bad time. Should I go?”
In unison, her mom and dad responded. “No. Stay for lunch.”
Dane stared at Amanda and Amanda stared back, and all of a sudden it occurred to her that he was waiting for her permission.
Her gaze swept down his lanky length, taking in the breadth of shoulders beneath his winter jacket, the easy stance that suggested a confidence he hadn’t had back in high school. They’d both been shy, leaning on each other to get through the awkward years of adolescence. Best friends forever. Isn’t that what they’d vowed?
It made the urge to crawl back into his arms, maybe work her way under his jacket until she found bare skin, somehow wrong.
The beeper on the oven sounded, breaking the tension between them, and her mom opened the oven door and adjusted the cooking racks. “Did we tell you that Dane is Morty’s best man? Since you didn’t bring anyone, maybe he could be your date.”
Her gaze swept over his lanky form and she pictured legions of women lined up for his attention. “Maybe he already has a date, Mom.”
“I don’t,” he answered easily, and with another sexy grin added, “So you can tag along with me, if you want. It’ll be just like the old days.”
When they’d both been dateless and counted on the other so they wouldn’t look like total losers. Only this time, her unexpected attraction to him could complicate things. Amanda chose to focus on their friendship and smirked up at him. “Just don’t expect any side benefits.”
Tom cleared his throat and came to stand beside Dane, reaching up to put one arm around the taller man’s shoulders. “Side benefits? What are your intensions, son?”
Amanda recognized her dad’s protective stance. “Just kidding, Dad. Dane has always been a perfect gentleman. I’m sure he’ll be able to keep his hands to himself.”
“You better.” And then with a stern look in Dane’s direction, he returned to the table and sat down.
Dane leaned forward slightly and she caught another hint of warm, delicious male. “So are you still on the anti-Valentine kick?”
Yeah, this was the way to act, teasing without touching. Safe. Secure. “Definitely, so don’t be bringing me any heart shaped chocolates or diamond rings.”
The rich sound of his laughter filled the room and sent another sizzle through her body. As she flushed with warmth, she caught a glimpse of herself in the shiny surface of the toaster and swallowed back a groan.
What with the way she was dressed and the fact that she hadn’t showered, she was pretty sure the attraction was all one sided. She crossed her arms over the gravy stain and took another step back. “Well, it was great to see you again, Dane. I was — uh — headed to the shower but I ran out of soap. I’ll just continue on with that and see you at the wedding.”
Her mom closed the oven door with a bang and straightened up, her face aglow from the heat. “Actually, you’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I have a list of things to do before the wedding and Dane has been kind enough to offer his help.”
Before she could respond, the shadowy form of her grandpa took shape in front of her. He swung out at Dane, but his fist passed through the younger man’s body. “Morty, you stay away from my woman.”
Without thinking, Amanda said to her grandpa, “This isn’t Morty.”
The room turned silent and Amanda looked through her grandpa up at Dane. He was staring down at her with a perplexed expression on his face. When he spoke, he carefully enunciated each word. “I’m. Dane. Remember?”
Her grandpa George floated away, appearing confused. Until he tugged off his glasses, held them up to the light and squinted through them. “Damn things. I told the eye doctor I needed a new prescription.”
“Good grief, this is embarrassing,” she muttered to herself.
Her grandpa nudged her in the shoulder. “Tell him you object to the wedding and you won’t allow it.”
Dane peered down at her, concern in his eyes and on his expression. “You okay, Mandy? You seem sort of off.”
“It’s my Valentine grinchness peeking out.” She folded her hands together behind her back, rocked on the balls of her feet and gave him her most disarming smile. “And how have you been?”
With a laugh and a shake of his head, he brushed past her and headed for the back porch. “Mr. and Mrs. G. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll take a rain check on lunch and come back later, after Mandy has a chance to shower and put on makeup and, you know, get presentable.”
And then he was gone. Through the kitchen window, Amanda watched him walk along the sidewalk until he was out of sight.
Wow, he’d matured into a real hunk. Still the same smart ass but those broad shoulders and lean hips kind of made up for it.
Behind her, Amanda heard a noise and she turned to see her grandma shuffle into the room, her frail arms clutching a black marble box to her chest.
Grandpa George glided across the room, his feet two inches off the floor, and crooned, “Elvira, my sweet wife. I miss you, my love.”
Grandma set the box on the countertop. Dora stopped beating the batter and gave the urn the evil eye. “Elvira, I’ve told you a hundred times not to put that thing near the food.”
Grandpa winked at Amanda. “That’s my ashes in there. See how much my dear Elvira still loves me. Can’t bear to be apart from me.”
Grandma sniffed the air. “Tom, did you switch your aftershave? It smells like your dad in here.”
“You’re imagining things, Ma.”
“No, I’m not.” Grandma spied Amanda. “Finally, you’re up. Come give your old granny a kiss.”
&
nbsp; Amanda crossed the room, noting that her normally frail and sad grandma looked radiant. Maybe Grandpa was just being a sourpuss about the entire affair. “Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials, Grandma.”
Grandpa howled out in anger. “Traitor.”
Tom pushed away from the table and went to rummage in the fridge. “Amanda, what can I get you to eat?”
“Nothing, Dad. I can help myself.”
But before she knew it, she was seated at the table and her dad had laid out a spread of buns, homemade soup, and enough pickles and cheese to feed an army.
At this rate, she wouldn’t fit into her bridesmaid dress, she thought as she slathered butter onto a bun.
Grandpa glided onto the chair beside her. “That urn is made for two. George and Elvira Goodwin. There’s no room for a threesome in here. If you don’t stop this wedding, I’m going to haunt you for the rest of forever.”
Over by the cupboard, Grandma picked up the urn and cradled it lovingly in her arms. “Amanda, when you’re finished your lunch, you can drive me to the cemetery. Everyone keeps telling me it’s time to move on, so I’ve decided to pick out a plot and bury your grandpa’s ashes before the wedding.”
With a howl, Grandpa vanished in a brilliant poof of light that made Amanda blink ... and wonder what it would be like to have him popping in and out for the rest of her life, or if it would just happen when she came home for the holidays.
* * * * *
Chapter Three
The rest of forever could last an eternity, Amanda thought as she went upstairs to shower and change. By the time she headed back downstairs to collect Grandma, she’d decided to have a heart to heart discussion with the older woman to find out exactly why she was in such a rush to get married.
In the kitchen, the heart shaped cake pans had been filled with batter and placed in the oven to bake.
“I’m ready to leave now, Grandma,” she called out as she wandered through the kitchen and into the empty living room. “Hello? Is anybody in the house?”