Finding Home (10 page)

“I’m not good enough for that. How did this come up anyway?”

Scott tapped his shirt pocket. “I found a thank-you note from her in the mailbox tonight. She asked me to broach the subject with you.”

Gram peered at him. “Sounds like an April Fool’s Day joke to me. One day early.”

“It’s not a joke. She knows the gallery owner. I’ve met her, too. She’s a very nice woman who likes to feature local artists.”

“I’m not local.”

“Close enough.”

They arrived back at her room, and as she entered she released her grip on the walker to gesture toward an English-garden-in-a-vase bouquet that took up most of her nightstand. “I must admit I was bowled over by that. Your houseguest has good manners, I’ll say that for her.”

No argument there. Scott had been taken aback by the thoughtful gesture, too, when he’d arrived last night to visit Gram.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind meeting her.” Gram settled on the edge of her bed, the studied casualness of her tone putting him on alert.

His grandmother had her matchmaker hat back on.

“She’s very busy.” He helped her into bed, stowed the walker in the corner, then returned to adjust the covers. “What limited free time she has, she spends with her son.”

“Sounds like she’s a caring, conscientious mother.”

“I’d say that’s true, from what I’ve seen. What do you think about her idea?”

Gram squinted at him. “I don’t know. I need to think about it.”

“Fair enough. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“No. I’m well taken care of here.” She patted his hand. “You’re a good boy, Scott. Faithful. Loyal. Excellent husband material.”

The woman had a one-track mind. “Not in the market.”

“A pity. Well, go home and get some rest. And if you talk to Devon, tell her I expect a call. I haven’t heard from that girl since she called to lament about her cash-flow problems a week ago. Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she ask you for money?”

“Yes. I told her no.”

Gram studied him. “But you sent it anyway.”

Warmth crept up his neck as he shrugged.

“Hmph. That girl is going to have to learn to stand on her own two feet one of these days, you know.”

“I know.”

Once more she patted his hand. “You have a kind heart. Just like Cindy.”

Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, Gram.”

“I’ll think about the paintings. You think about finding yourself a wife.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic, you know that?”

She squeezed his hand. “No. Hope
ful.
Now go get some rest. And start putting some of your energy into finding a good woman instead of pouring it all into your work. I want you settled down before I go home to the Lord.”

Scott let that pass.

Yet as he walked down the hall and left the building, Gram’s advice echoed in his mind.

The problem was, he had a feeling he
had
found a good woman. To confirm that, though, he’d have to get more involved. Meaning, if it didn’t work out, two more people would get hurt.

And he didn’t want another Leah haunting his dreams.

* * *

“If it isn’t our good Samaritan!”

As Genevieve beamed at him—and several other customers waiting to be seated at the Orchid looked his way—Scott felt a flush crawl up his neck. It was too much to hope that in a town the size of Starfish Bay a 911 call would go unnoticed. Half the residents had probably called to check on Cindy and then heard the whole story.

“It was no big deal, Genevieve. I had plenty of room.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was a very neighborly gesture. I know Cindy was most grateful. Are you here for takeout, or would you like to stay for dinner?”

“I’m staying tonight.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s not healthy to always eat on the run. I should have a table opening up in less than five minutes. Have a seat while you wait.”

Scott wandered over to one of the chairs lined up against the wall and sat while Genevieve bustled about seating the customers who’d arrived before him. He ought to head back to the house. But it had been a long day, and the temptation to enjoy his evening meal in a homey place like the Orchid instead of in his silent kitchen with only a sulking Toby for company had been too hard to resist.

As he waited, Lindsey walked around the corner from the dining area. When she crossed to him, he rose.

“If you’re staying for dinner, I can recommend the pot roast. It’s amazing.”

“Sold.”

“How’s Cindy doing? I haven’t seen her since the accident.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Lindsey’s assumption that he was keeping tabs on his houseguest was more than a little unsettling.

Before he could respond, Nate Garrison rounded the corner, draped one arm over Lindsey’s shoulders and held out his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

The guy who’d picked up Cindy and Jarrod at his house was involved with Lindsey?

Distracted, Scott returned his firm grip.

“I’m glad you two had a chance to meet. I was planning to pick up Cindy and Jarrod Friday night until the fog socked us in. Nate filled in for me Saturday morning while I minded the store.” Lindsey smiled up at the man. “Did you guys have a chance to get acquainted?”

“Not really.” Nate dug his keys out of the pocket of his jeans. “Cindy and Jarrod were ready to leave when I arrived. How’s she doing?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t...”

“Lindsey, is this yours?” Genevieve hurried over, holding a tube of lipstick aloft. “I found it on the seat of the booth.”

The younger woman felt in the pocket of her slacks. “Yep. It must have slipped out. Thanks, Genevieve.”

“Not a problem. Can’t send you out into the world lipstick-less.” She grinned and handed it over. “I’ve got a table for you now, Scott.”

He said goodbye to Lindsey and Nate, watching them exit as Genevieve retrieved a menu.

“Nice couple.” She rejoined him. “I’m a sucker for happy endings.”

“So they’re...involved?”

She chortled. “I’d say so. They’re getting married next month in the tiny chapel you salvaged and reconstructed out on The Point. Why do you ask?”

Striving for a nonchalant tone, he lifted one shoulder. “Nate and Cindy and Jarrod all seemed very...friendly...on Saturday when he picked them up.”

Her eyes twinkled. “They are. Nate and Lindsey tutored Jarrod when he fell behind in school after his dad died. Nate and Jarrod bonded, and Cindy is very grateful for all Nate did to help him get past his grief and move on.”

She tucked the menu into the crook of her arm and gave him a keen look. “But in case you’re wondering, there was never anything romantic between Nate and Cindy. He only has eyes for Lindsey. They were childhood friends, and once they reconnected last summer, it was clear to everyone but them that they belonged together. Fortunately, they saw the light, too. Long story short—Cindy’s unattached. And speaking of Cindy...” She glanced over his shoulder, toward the front door, and lifted her eyebrows.

Turning, he found his houseguest stepping into the foyer, a wicker basket over her arm.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second after she spotted him, then walked over. “Hi. This is a surprise.”

Before he could return her greeting, Genevieve spoke up. “If Jarrod’s with you, I have a nice table for three available. You could join Scott.”

Genevieve was as bad as Gram.

A soft blush rose on Cindy’s cheeks. “I only have time for a quick takeout. Parent-teacher meetings are tonight, and I’m already running late. Jarrod’s in the car. I’ll just take two of the specials. I also wanted to return this.” She set the basket on the counter. “Thank you again for the meal. It was delicious—and much appreciated.”

“Happy to do it.” Genevieve picked up the basket. “You two can chat while I round up those dinners.”

As the older woman took off toward the kitchen, Scott inspected the abrasion on Cindy’s forehead. The bump was gone, a scab had formed over the scraped area and the bruise was beginning to fade. “That looks a lot better than it did the last time I saw it.”

“It feels a lot better, too.”

“You know, I’m glad I ran into you. I was planning to call tonight to thank you for the flowers you sent Gram and for your offer to show her paintings to Janice. I talked to her about it last night, and she’s mulling it over. I consider it a positive sign that she didn’t say no outright.”

“I was hoping the idea might lift her spirits. I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Has she recovered from her fall?”

“For the most part.” Scott propped a hip against the end of the stool-lined counter that doubled as a check-in desk for the sisters’ adjacent motel. “How’s the exhibit project coming?”

Her face clouded. “It’s not. I’ve been poring over books and artifacts, but nothing is generating any exciting ideas—and the clock is ticking.”

“Here you go, Cindy.” Genevieve pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. “I told Tony to step on it. Can’t have you late for a parent-teacher conference, especially when I expect you’ll hear positive things this year. I don’t know what Lillian and I would do without that man in the kitchen.” She handed over a large white sack.

Cindy passed her credit card to the older woman, who fiddled with the manual credit card machine that shared space on the counter with an ancient cash register.

“Is Lillian still working on you about joining the computer age?” Cindy smiled at her.

“All the time.” Genevieve gave a long-suffering sigh and handed Cindy the credit card slip for a signature. “This old brain isn’t wired for all those electronic gizmos.”

“Your brain is as sharp as anyone’s I’ve ever met.” Cindy wrote her name on the slip and handed it back. “Just take the plunge.”

“Sound advice, I expect.” She looked from Cindy to Scott and back again.

Cindy dipped her head and made a project out of rummaging in her purse for her keys. “I’ve got to run.” She flashed Scott a quick look. “Let me know what your grandmother says.”

“I’ll do that.” He walked with her to the front door and pulled it open as she exited.

“Thanks.”

She paused for an instant to give him a smile, and he caught the hint of a subtle, fresh fragrance that evoked thoughts of flowers and spring. It was the same fragrance he’d noticed last Friday as he’d helped her to his car after they left the E.R. And the same one that still lingered in Devon’s old room. He knew because he’d ducked in there more than once over the past week to inhale it.

Pretty pathetic.

He needed to get a life.

Turning back, he found Genevieve watching him with a smug smile. “Such a nice woman. Lovely, too, don’t you think?”

“Very.” He stepped away from the door and gestured toward the restaurant. “Now how about some of that pot roast? I’m starving.”

“Coming right up.” She led Scott toward his table, waiting as he slid into his seat. “Cindy told us why you were in the E.R. the night you ran into her. We’re mighty sorry to hear about your grandmother’s troubles. Once she’s over her fall, you bring her up here for lunch or dinner someday. A change of scene can do a body a world of good.”

Relieved she’d dropped the subject of Cindy, he considered the suggestion. “That might not be a bad idea. I haven’t been able to tempt her to leave Seaside Gardens yet, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

“Make it worth her while.” She leaned close and winked. “Most people can be persuaded to step out of their comfort zones with the right incentive.”

As she returned to the foyer to greet more arriving customers, Scott took a long sip of his water. That last comment hadn’t been only about Gram. Genevieve had donned her matchmaker hat again.

Scott didn’t doubt the truth of the café owner’s remark. Assuming Cindy felt the chemistry between them, he might be able to convince her to go out with him.

But that wouldn’t be wise. What if he let things go on too long, made the same mistake again? He couldn’t risk that.

Leaving two broken hearts behind was already two too many.

Chapter Six

S
itting back on his heels, Scott surveyed Gram’s attic in dismay. Sorting through the detritus of his grandparent’s life—and several other lives, he suspected, eyeing a couple of antique trunks—wasn’t a job he relished. Especially on a Saturday morning. But she’d been insisting for weeks that it was time to sell the house, that she didn’t want him spending any more of his money on her care. Nothing he’d said had dissuaded her.

With a sigh he picked his way over to a large, weathered trunk that had a rounded lid and reminded him of a treasure chest from a pirate ship.

Except he doubted it was going to contain a fortune in gold doubloons.

He gave it an experimental tug. It didn’t budge. The thing was probably crammed with a bunch of decaying junk.

Pivoting toward the flat-topped wooden sea chest beside it, he dropped to the balls of his feet and gave it a slight push. Nada. It was just as heavy.