Alaskan Sweethearts. Janet Tronstad

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      “He what?” He almost couldn’t speak, he was so astonished. “He warned you about me?”

      He was the good grandson. Always had been. The one who had stayed. The one who fed the cats warm milk when the snow was knee deep outside and the wind was howling. The one who gave everyone back their money, even if they had lost their receipt. He’d half raised his brothers, made sure they got to school on time and washed behind their ears. And his grandfather had warned her about him?

      “Yes,” Scarlett said emphatically. “And my family needs that house—and the land. It’s going to be our new home. We have your grandfather’s promise in writing and we’ll sue if that’s what we need to do to get what should be ours.”

      With that threat, she turned back to the car, clearly dismissing him.

      Hunter did the only thing he could. He turned around, climbed the steps and stomped into the café. He had to wait a minute for the cat to slip through the open door first, but they both finally made it inside with their dignities intact. As he suspected, his grandfather was calmly sitting at a table in the back —a cup of coffee and a half-eaten piece of apple pie in front of him. Hunter noted that, as usual, the waitress had removed the salt and pepper shakers from the table. His grandfather had a history of putting them in his pocket when he left. Hunter had finally gotten tired of bringing them back so he’d asked the owner, a nice woman by the name of Linda Enger, if she would just have them taken off the table when his grandfather came in. She’d not only done that, she’d preserved the old man’s dignity by telling the waitresses it was to cut down on his salt intake.

      “What are you up to with the Murphy family?” Hunter demanded to know as he sat at the table. The cat curled itself under his chair. His grandfather had given up shaving these days in favor of a short white beard that made him look deceptively jolly. He’d lost some height in his old age and was a little more round than he should be. He still wore his trademark long-sleeved denim shirts, though. He said the ladies liked them because their color matched his eyes. Red suspenders held up the black wool pants he preferred. Hunter suddenly wondered if his grandfather wanted to look like Santa Claus so he could fool people easier.

      “Why today of all days?” Hunter continued, working to soften the steel in his voice.

      His grandfather shrugged. “It’s time we moved on.”

      “And why would you warn someone about me?” Hunter added. He needed to be calm if he expected to learn anything. “I’m the good guy here.”

      The old man just looked at him.

      “Scarlett Murphy isn’t a fool,” Hunter said, trying again. “So you might as well let me in on the plan you have.”

      The smell of the frying bacon reminded Hunter that it had been hours since he’d had breakfast. He looked over and caught the eye of the waitress. She was new, all starched and proper, and he didn’t know her name. He nodded to her all the same. Then he turned back to his grandfather.

      “I thought it would be obvious—now that Scarlett is here.” The elderly man smiled and then he paused the way he did when he wanted someone’s full attention.

      No one ever said his grandfather didn’t take full advantage of a suspenseful moment, Hunter thought.

      “What is it?” Hunter asked, focusing completely on him now. That was the only way to find out anything. “What are you doing this time?”

      “Well,” his grandfather said softly, seeming to relish his announcement, “I warned her about you because women like a little excitement in a man.”

      “And?” Hunter knew he wasn’t finished.

      “I’m trying to find you a bride since you won’t do it yourself.”

      “A—b-bride,” Hunter stammered, staring at the old man in astonishment.

      The sky outside had gotten darker and the café was filled with shadows. Hunter told himself that he should have stayed home today. His grandfather as a matchmaker was preposterous. Only then did Hunter realize the letter, lying so innocently open on the table, had been bait. His grandfather had known he would charge in like a knight on a white horse to save the unknown Scarlett.

      “There’s no one like those Murphy women,” his grandfather noted in satisfaction as he rested the palms of his hands flat on the table, looking pleased with himself. “You’re my grandson. You deserve the best.”

      “I don’t need you to find me a wife.” The thought was alarming.

      “Well, you sure aren’t looking for yourself,” his grandfather retorted as he lifted his hand and slapped it down for emphasis. The old man looked startled at how loud the smack was. The sound of a cup shattering sent Hunter’s attention over to the waitress. She was staring down at the broken cup at her feet as coffee ran all over the floor.

      “I’m sorry,” Hunter said to her as he started to rise. The cat had already snuck off to lie under another table.

      “No.” The waitress held up a hand to stop him. “I’ve got it. You just stay with your grandfather. See that he doesn’t have any salt.”

      Hunter sat back down and looked at his grandfather. The circus had only just started. “Why are you doing this?”

      “Well, you’re not getting any younger. A man like you needs a family.”

      Neither one said anything for a moment. Hunter focused on the red plastic carnation in the middle of the table as he counted to ten.

      “I’ve got a family,” he finally whispered.

      He’d never understood what happened to make his father swerve so fast that the car flipped, but when it did, a fire started in the engine. He’d tried to move his unconscious father, but when Hunter hadn’t been able to do it, he’d climbed out of the vehicle alone. He’d gone to his mother, hoping she could help, but she was on the ground bleeding and hadn’t even seemed aware of the fire. She’d taken his hand in hers, begged him to promise he’d keep the family together no matter what happened. The younger boys had been lying near a ditch crying, but they hadn’t heard her. Hunter had looked back at the increasing smoke but couldn’t leave his mother—or was it that he wouldn’t leave? That question had tormented him for years. Had he been too afraid of the fire to return?

      He’d finally made the promise to his mother just as a pickup had come screeching to a halt a few feet from them. His grandfather had been there then, lifting him up in a hug. The old man had set him down and raced to the burning car. Hunter had tried to stop his tears, but he hadn’t been able to. The ambulance and Sheriff Wall, their red lights all flashing, had come soon after that. They’d put the fire out, but Hunter had never seen either of his parents alive again.

      Hunter hadn’t told anyone about the promise he’d made....

      But maybe his grandfather had suspected, because he grunted and said, “I mean a proper family. Not just people you think you have to take care of.”

      Hunter shook his head. “I don’t mind.”

      “I know you don’t,” his grandfather said gently. “That’s not the point.”

      “This СКАЧАТЬ