Daddy's Little Matchmaker. Roz Fox Denny

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      “Hi, Daddy. Where’ve you been?”

      “Nowhere. I just ran some errands in town.”

      Birdie bustled into the room bearing a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies and a tall glass of milk. Vestal appeared out of nowhere, clearly wanting to nab Alan.

      As Birdie sat down to help Louemma drink and eat, Vestal yanked him out of the living room, into the hall. “What happened when you went to see Laurel Ashline? When’s she coming to see Louemma?”

      He scowled. “Who said I even went to see Ms. Ashline?”

      “Eva. She phoned right after you left her shop. Trying her best to learn why you followed up a basket of fruit with a vaseful of roses for a woman who apparently told Eva she hadn’t even met you. You know Eva can’t stand to think that anyone in town is keeping secrets from her.”

      “Three roses, Grandmother, not a vaseful.” Alan wiggled three fingers. “She wasn’t home, by the way. And speaking of secrets, why didn’t you tell me you sent her that fruit basket in my name?”

      Vestal did have the grace to look guilty.

      “Also, were you aware she’s living in Hazel Bell’s cottage? Her cottage, on our land. It is, you know. Ours.” He narrowed his eyes and watched his grandmother clasp a fist to her thin chest.

      “That’s why her name sounded familiar. Ashline—that was the transient workman Lucy Bell ran off with. Oh, my. Laurel must be Lucy’s daughter.”

      “What? Ted never mentioned having a granddaughter.”

      “No. But it has to be. In that case, you have your answer as to why she settled here. Laurel Ashline has roots in Ridge City.”

      “No way! Her mother ran off how many years ago?”

      “At least thirty. But you said it yourself, Alan. Strangers never move here. Only people who have roots. She does.”

      Alan turned and stomped toward his office. At the door, he stopped. “She may think she has roots here,” he said. “Obviously Hazel or her lawyer led the woman to believe Bell Hill belongs to her. But that forty acres is Ridge land—always has been and always will be. Hardy needs the water from that spring to expand Windridge. We’re paying him big bucks to ensure Louemma’s legacy and her children’s legacy long after you and I are gone, Grandmother. Isn’t that reason enough not to get chummy with Laurel Ashline?” He started to slam the door, but Vestal blocked it with a toe.

      “Now you listen to me. Way back before Lucy Bell went wild, her mother and I dreamed about our son and her daughter forging an unbreakable bond between our two families. That didn’t happen. But maybe…”

      “Uh-huh. No, ma’am. Don’t even think it!” Alan’s voice rose sharply. “You’re not pairing me up with…that woman. Not with any woman.”

      “Grouchy as you are, no woman in her right mind would have you, Alan Ridge. Chew on this—if you don’t get help for her, the Ridge bloodline ends with Louemma. I tell you, I have a feeling about Laurel. You know Jason and your father both respected my intuition. I can’t imagine why you’re in such a state over someone you’ve never met. Quit being an ass and make peace with the woman, for Louemma’s sake.”

      Squaring her shoulders, Vestal withdrew her foot from the door, then slammed it shut herself.

      Behind the door, Alan rubbed his eyes. Obviously he had to do something. If this battle between them continued, Vestal could work herself into a heart attack. Or he would, considering how furiously the blood pounded through his veins. No, he couldn’t let this go on. Somewhere there had to be a doctor able to cure whatever ailed Louemma.

      CHAPTER THREE

      ALAN THOUGHT HE HEARD faint sounds of someone crying as he stood braced against the door. He gave himself a mental shake and opened it a crack.

      It wasn’t like Vestal to give way to tears. And it wasn’t like him to push a confrontation to the brink of tears, either. That had been part of his and Emily’s problem. She’d spoiled for a fight over the least little thing and had been adept at employing tears to get her way. Alan had realized early in their marriage that she’d manipulated her parents in pretty much the same manner. He’d been determined not to fall into the same trap. When the hysterics began, his response was usually to walk away, which only made Emily more furious.

      Someone was definitely crying, he decided. But it wasn’t coming from his grandmother’s wing. Setting off to investigate, Alan found Louemma still in front of the TV. Her face was wet. Tears dripped off her chin, as she couldn’t lift a hand to wipe them away.

      He dashed to her side and whipped a clean handkerchief out of his pocket. On his knees beside her, Alan gently blotted her face. “Louemma, honey, what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Tell me where so I can call Dr. Fulton.”

      “Why were you and Nana yelling? It…it reminded me of you and Mama.”

      “We never yell—” Stunned, Alan let the hand holding the handkerchief fall away. “Baby, I never raised my voice to your mother.” Emily, though, had screamed loudly enough for ten people.

      Again the dark eyes studying him glistened with tears. “But…Mama yelled at you. And sometimes stuff hit my bedroom wall.”

      Alan’s stomach lurched. Good grief, had Louemma somehow picked up on the fact that he’d been thinking about Emily’s tantrums? Vestal swore her side of the family was clairvoyant—could Louemma sense other people’s thoughts? No. If anything, it was the strain they were all under.

      “Honeybee, your mother had a…a temper. But never doubt that she loved you more than anything in the world. I love you, the same way. Please don’t cry.” Alan felt an urgent need to reassure her. Yes, he and Emily had had their spats. But one thing they’d agreed on was that their child came first in both their lives.

      “In reruns of The Brady Bunch, they got a new mom. She’s nice.”

      “We do okay, don’t we? Look, I made Nana mad a minute ago. Even before I heard you crying, I was about to go and apologize. I’ll go see her right now if you promise not to cry another tear.”

      Louemma lowered her lashes. Her lips trembled. Finally, in a small voice, she sighed, “Okay, Daddy.”

      He kissed the tip of her nose. “You didn’t drink much milk. Remember, Dr. Fulton said you need milk to strengthen your bones.” Alan got up and moved the TV tray closer, adjusting the bendable straw that allowed Louemma to drink without using her hands. “Did Birdie help you eat a cookie?”

      “I’m not hungry or thirsty. Daddy, will Miss Robinson always have to give me my lessons at home?”

      “I thought you liked Miss Robinson.”

      “I do. But…sometimes I miss going to school. I could try walking more.”

      Again Alan felt at a loss for words. Louemma had obviously forgotten how frustrated she’d become when they’d sent her back to her regular classroom. Shunned by former friends, she’d felt left out. Alan had ached as he’d held her through those first horrible crying jags. СКАЧАТЬ