Jonas’s mother didn’t need to say a word more for Stephanie to hate the fickle, faceless woman.
“That was nearly ten years ago, and Jonas hasn’t brought another woman to meet me until today. Knowing my son the way I do, I’m sure he’ll battle what he feels for you; he’s reluctant to trust again. So you must be patient and, my dear,” she added, gently touching Stephanie’s hand, “be very strong. He deserves your love, and although he may be stubborn now and again, believe me, the woman my son loves will be the happiest woman alive. When Jonas loves again, I promise you it will be with all his heart and his soul.”
Stephanie felt fresh tears gather in her eyes. “I don’t know if I deserve someone as good as Jonas.”
“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth Lockwood said, her soft voice cutting any harshness from her words. “But he deserves you.” She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s coming now, so smile, and please don’t say anything about our conversation.”
“I won’t,” Stephanie promised, blinking back tears.
“There you are,” Jonas said as he joined his mother and Stephanie. “Did mother let you in on any family secrets?”
“Several, as a matter of fact,” Elizabeth said with a small laugh.
“Clara wants me to tell you that dinner is ready any time you are.’’
“Great,” Elizabeth replied with a warm smile.
“She cooked my favorite dessert,” Jonas said, sharing a secret smile with Stephanie. “Strawberry shortcake.’’
Stephanie could feel the heated color seep up her neck, invading her cheeks.
“I don’t recall you being particularly fond of strawberries,” Elizabeth commented as she led the way into the dining room.
“I am now, Mother,” Jonas said, reaching for Stephanie’s hand and linking her fingers with his. He raised her knuckles to his mouth and lightly kissed them.
The meal was one Stephanie would long remember, but not because the food could have been served in a four-star restaurant. Jonas was a different person, chatting, joking, teasing. He insisted that Clara join them for coffee so that Stephanie could meet the family cook. Although Stephanie liked the rotund woman instantly, she could feel the older woman’s censure. But by the end of the evening, all that had changed and Stephanie knew she could count Clara as a friend. When it came time to leave, Elizabeth hugged Stephanie and whispered softly in her ear. “Thank you, my dear, for giving me back my son. Remember what I said. Be patient.”
“No. Thank you,” Stephanie whispered back. They joined hands, and Stephanie nodded once. “I’ll remember.”
It was dark by the time they left Duluth, and Stephanie was physically drained from the long day. She yawned once and tried to disguise it. “I like your family, Jonas.”
“They seemed to be quite taken with you.”
They talked a bit more, and Stephanie began to drop off, giving way to her fatigue. Jonas woke her when they reached the outskirts of Minneapolis.
“I’m sorry to be such terrible company,” she said, yawning.
“You’re anything but,” Jonas murmured, contradicting her. He eased to a stop in front of her apartment building and parked the car, but kept the engine running.
“Do you want to come in for coffee?” Stephanie invited.
“No, you’re exhausted, and I have some work that I need to look over.”
“Jonas, don’t tell me you’re going to work now.” She glanced at her wristwatch, shocked to find that it was after eleven.
He chuckled, and leaned over to press his mouth lightly to hers. “No, but it was the best excuse I could come up with to refuse your invitation.”
“Good, I was worried there for a minute. You work too hard.” She yearned to tell him how much the day had meant to her, how much she’d enjoyed the time on the sailboat and meeting his mother and Clara. But finding the right words was impossible. “Thank you for everything,” she said when he helped her out of the car. “I can’t remember a day I’ve enjoyed more.”
“Me either,” Jonas murmured, his gaze holding hers. “Not in years.”
“We’ve got it!” Jan announced Monday morning, as she, Maureen, Toni and Barbara circled Stephanie’s desk like warriors surrounding a wagon train.
“Got what?” Stephanie looked up blankly. She’d only arrived at the office a few minutes before, and hadn’t even turned on her typewriter. “What are you talking about?”
“Your move with Mr. Lockwood.”
“Oh, that,” she returned with a sigh. She hadn’t told her friends about the weekend sailing jaunt, but then she’d been keeping quite a few secrets from them lately.
“We’ve got it all worked out.”
“Answer me this first,” Stephanie said. “Will I need to wear a cast? Date someone’s brother-in-law? Hire a French chef?”
“No.”
“It’s working out great. We’ve got a contact in the janitorial department.”
“A what?”