True Love at Silver Creek Ranch

Chapter Fourteen

Friday evening, Adam went to spend time with his grandma, and once again, she was waiting for him at the door wearing her coat. He couldn’t see what outrageous dress she might be wearing, and that had him worried.

“Where are we going now?” he asked patiently.

“The Silver Creek Community Center,” she said, smiling at him. “I’m entertainin’ the Chess Club this evenin’.”

Adam blinked at her suspiciously. “Doing what?”

“Readin’ their cards, of course!” She held up a little drawstring bag. “I’m goin’ to teach them about the mysteries of tarot, too.”

Shooting pool and having a beer might be more enjoyable, but this night was his grandma’s. He followed her into the community center, an old brick factory that had been converted for the town into meeting rooms and even a large reception room for small weddings and other events. Grandma told him about the huge deck where people gathered for the Music to Eat By programs during summer lunches. In the reception room, he saw various small booths along one wall, advertising local business like music quartets and romantic picnic baskets made to order. Someone worked hard to play up Valentine Valley’s romantic reputation.

But his grandma kept walking at a slow but steady pace, and as he studied her gait, he noticed she wasn’t acting quite so feeble as she had been the first week or so of his arrival. She must think he was completely under her spell—and he was, he admitted to himself. He followed her into a slightly smaller room, with kitchen cabinets and appliances in one corner, pool table, Ping-Pong table, a large-screen TV, and groups of comfortable couches and chairs.

And then he saw Brooke, Emily, and Monica huddled over trays spread on the kitchen counters. Brooke was dressed in black jeans, a patterned top, and a sexy leather jacket. Her brown hair hung loose though pulled back from her face. He realized he was staring, when his grandma stepped into his line of vision, unbuttoning her coat. He helped her take it off, then hid a wince as he saw her dress patterned with stars and moons. Where did she find these clothes?

Brooke glanced their way. “Hi, Mrs. Palmer!” she called, then, “Hey, Adam. Guess Nate didn’t keep you forever.”

Adam smiled. “Yeah, I finally got it right.”

Monica wiped her hands on a towel. “Got what right?”

“I couldn’t manage to cut a cow from the herd and rope her. Nate needed to doctor her. I probably galloped through that herd a hundred times, but he insisted I needed to learn.”

“It must have taken hours,” Brooke said solemnly. “Adam’s a slow learner. Maybe he’s even saddle sore.”

Monica and Emily both laughed, and Adam tolerated being the butt of their jokes.

“So when do the kids arrive?” he finally asked, when the women headed toward the kitchen.

“Anytime now,” Brooke called back.

“How did you guys get involved with this?” He followed them, while Grandma Palmer limped away to claim a small square table and spread out a glittery cloth.

“Steph heard about your grandma’s many talents through her own mom,” Brooke began.

“Faith is into all the mystical stuff,” Monica confided. “Steph, not so much, but they were looking for a fun guest, and who’s more fun than your grandma?”

“I offered to provide refreshments,” Emily said, coloring a bit.

He understood why. She was eager to become closer to her new little sister and probably relieved and excited that Steph had accepted.

“So what do we have here?” he asked, checking out the spread that covered the counters.

“Little samples of everything,” Emily said, coming to his side. “Help yourself.”

Everything had its own little paper cup for display—little cookies, mini cupcakes and cheesecakes, and squares of her delicious brownies. He went for one of those first.

“I’ll try the others later,” he promised.

“So you’re sticking around?” Emily asked in surprise. “I couldn’t even get Nate to come, and he’s engaged to me.”

“I guess a grandma can be more persuasive than a fiancée.” He paused. “Brooke’s told me a bit about your problems with Steph.”

“She has?” Emily asked, her blue eyes round.

He shrugged. “We’re together most of the day, and we talk to fill the time.”

Emily looked past him, wiping the concern off her face and replacing it with a cheerful smile. Adam turned his head and saw the teenagers arriving in groups of twos and fours, staying clustered together. Someone turned on music, and the beat thumped through the room. None of them approached the adults at first, as they hung up their coats and spread out around the Ping-Pong or pool tables.

Then Grandma Palmer waded right into the center of them and started talking.

“I really like her,” Emily said, her voice wistful.

Steph came toward them, smiling up at Adam. To her credit, the smile only dimmed a little when she turned to Emily.

“Thanks for making the food,” Steph said.

“I’m glad you asked.”

“How much do we owe you? We keep money in our budget for snacks.”

“No, please, it’s my treat. Think of it as advertising, right?”

“Well, okay, thanks.” She turned away.

Emily gave a quiet groan and closed her eyes. “Advertising,” she murmured, her voice laced with disgust. “I couldn’t have just said it was a gift?”

“She might not have taken it,” Adam said.

“But it sounded . . . all business and professional, not like she was my sister and I’d do anything . . .” Emily’s voice trailed off.

Adam felt awkward. Should he pat her on the back?

She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

Brooke approached and bumped shoulders playfully with Emily. “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. At our lesson the other day, she said she felt sorta bad that it might be her fault you didn’t discuss the wedding on Thanksgiving Day. Baby steps, right?”

“She said that?” Emily’s sad expression turned hopeful.

“And she came to you for the food—that was my idea, too,” Brooke added.

“Oh, Brooke, I’d hug you, but it might make Steph think you’re conspiring with me.”

“Well . . . I am.”

Emily put a finger to her lips. “Shh!”

Adam smiled at Brooke, enjoying how easily she found a way to encourage her friend and make her feel better. She was a protective woman, he knew, especially about her family, but also the other people in her life.

Monica broke out the sodas, and Adam helped set them out on various tables, but then he retreated, knowing the kids would feel more comfortable pretending he wasn’t there. Many of the girls had already gathered around Grandma Palmer, who was holding court in a quiet, but firm voice. He remembered her booming laugh, bigger than life, embarrassing his mother but not him. He could always hear his grandma from across any football field. He hoped to hear that booming voice again soon, but he couldn’t very well spoil her plans.

The adults stood near the kitchen while the kids played games. Gradually, almost all of the girls but Steph clustered around his grandma. In between laughter, there was an occasional “oooh” of recognition as she talked about the pattern of the cards.

Steph was sitting on a stuffed couch near the TV, talking to a boy whose back was to Adam.

Brooke grabbed Emily, and said quietly, “That must be Tyler. He’s the boy I told you about, that she asked to join the Chess Club. Guess he and his friends have been in some trouble.”

Emily frowned. “I heard her mention a boy during the week, but didn’t realize he had . . . issues.”

“Lots of kids have issues,” Brooke said, then glanced at Adam. “Remind you of anyone?”

He nodded. “Yep. And someone gave me a chance to turn myself around. But she should be careful until he does make some kind of effort.”

To Emily, Brooke said, “Since she’s already mentioned him to you, perhaps you can ask her how it went, helping him, I mean. Hey, it’s something to talk about.”

Emily nodded, then asked, “Can I change the subject?” She gestured to Monica and brought her over. “I have some news to tell you.”

“Should I leave you ladies alone?” Adam asked.

“No, I won’t banish you to the corner by yourself.” Emily smiled up at him. “As it is, it’s pretty easy to notice you’d rather be with us girls than the kids—or your grandma.”

Monica and Brooke both chuckled.

“Hey, I’m not about to let my grandma think I put stock in her wacky musings. I’m glad she has a hobby, but I don’t have to believe in it. As for the kids, they’d rather be with each other than me.”

“Oh, come on, you remember what it was like to be one, don’t you?” Monica demanded.

Brooke was watching him silently, and he guessed she understood what he meant.

“Of course I remember being a teenager. Some of it I wish I could forget.”

Brooke glanced at Monica. “Like a couple dates he had . . .”

“Hey!” Monica said, hands on her hips. “I get your implication, Brooke Thalberg!”

“Do I need to step between you ladies?” Adam asked mildly, even as the two women grinned at each other. “But Monica, Brooke is right in one sense—I’d like to forget the way I treated you. If you’d accept my apology, I’d appreciate it.”

Monica waved a hand. “Oh, please. If I had to apologize for every stupid thing I did as a teenager, I wouldn’t have time to work. Of course you’re forgiven. But that doesn’t mean Steph and her friends don’t have something to learn from you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Wait, wait, I didn’t get to tell you my news!” Emily cried, then looked around at the teenagers and lowered her voice. “Nate and I have decided to move in together.”

Monica practically squealed as she gave her a hug, and although Brooke also fell into the hugging line, she gave Emily a worried look afterward.

“This isn’t some kind of proof to Nate that just because you haven’t set a date—”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Emily interrupted.

“Because he’s a big boy, and he loves you enough to wait for whatever makes you happy.”

“Thanks for that,” Emily said with a soft smile. “But no, I want to be with him. I don’t need to wait for the wedding. But I had another reason to tell you the news—would you mind helping me pack and move?”

Brooke grinned. “What are friends for?”

Adam watched the three women chat happily about Emily’s plans and realized they shared a bond of friendship that was just as close as family. They’d created this themselves, something he wasn’t ever going to do by hanging out at the bunkhouse alone each night. It was hard to be happy, really happy, when his men—his brothers—were dead. That’s what he’d been telling himself for months now.

But he was happy—being with Brooke was making him happy, whether at night wrapped up in their secret, or during the day, working at her side. He looked at the teenagers, so involved in their own lives, oblivious to what might await them out in the world. He remembered those days, when the world had seemed full of possibilities. It could be that way again for him.

After the teenagers had gone, and Brooke wiped down the last table, she approached Adam, who was helping his grandma into her coat.

“Did I mention how much I love your dress, Mrs. Palmer?” Brooke asked, smiling.

“It catches the young people’s attention, of course,” the older woman said. “And that’s often the first battle.”

“Did they enjoy your readings?”

“I think they did. Oh, they giggled a bit, and the boys rolled their eyes, but some of them left here feelin’ more calm about their future, and that’s all you can ask.”

Brooke looked up at Adam and found that having to keep herself so friendly and neutral around him was much harder than she’d thought. They worked together much of each day, even had lunch together, but there were so many people around them at the ranch, and everyone was busy. She could concentrate on her work, or her discussion of work, and include Adam as a coworker rather than a lover.

It was much more difficult being around her best friends—who knew her so well—and Adam’s grandma, and finding a way to be pleasant and friendly, although not too friendly. She kept almost touching him, or leaning against him, all because of the physical intimacy they’d been sharing. It was making her tense, and she was glad the evening was almost over.

She put her acting skills to use and smiled up at him. “Josh and I came to town together earlier, and I told him to take the truck, and I’d find a ride home. Adam, would you mind?”

“We’d love your company, dear!” Mrs. Palmer said, patting her arm.

When the maintenance worker arrived to lock the doors, they all left, waving good-bye in the parking lot. The drive to the Widows’ Boardinghouse passed quickly, and Adam helped his grandma inside. As he got behind the wheel again, Brooke jumped into the front seat and saw Mrs. Palmer’s purple drawstring bag.

“Whoops, she left her cards,” Brooke said. “I’ll be right back.”

She dashed up the kitchen stairs and opened the door without knocking, as she always did. To her surprise, she found Mrs. Palmer still in her coat, the cane on a hook by the door, a giant plate in her hands as she ate voraciously. At the community center, she’d picked at her food like an injured bird.

Brooke came to a stop, unable to hide her grin. “Ah-ha, caught you!”

Her guilty expression gave everything away. “Oh dear. You already knew?”

Brooke nodded. “I didn’t share my suspicions with Adam.”

The widow put a hand to her chest. “Thank goodness.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

With a sigh, Mrs. Palmer crossed to the table with her usual brisk gait and set down her plate. “I’ve been . . . exaggeratin’ a bit. I was desperate to get Adam to visit and perhaps stay. Oh, every year he flew in for a couple days, or he had me come visit him, but these last six months since his discharge . . . I’ve had a bad feelin’. Even my cards were tellin’ me somethin’s wrong. You see, I never got to be with him all that much when he was a child. Funny, isn’t it? He lived right here, but his mother, my only child, resented how close he was to me. She used me when she needed me, and when she wanted to punish me, she didn’t let me see Adam.”

Her voice broke a little, and Brooke felt a pang of answering sadness that brought tears to her eyes.

Mrs. Palmer held up her hand and gave a trembling smile as she went on. “I was her reward to him. When he was good and docile and did everythin’ around the house, he was allowed to visit me for a night. His clothes were too small and smelled like cigarette smoke”—she bowed her head and had to lay her hand on the table—“but if I gave him new things, he and I were both punished.”

“Oh, Mrs. Palmer,” Brooke said, putting her arm around the woman’s trembling shoulders. “How terrible for you.”

Mrs. Palmer stiffened and composed herself. “Not nearly as terrible for me as for Adam. He lived a neglected childhood, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. He almost ruined his life, but with the kindness of other adults, he found his way. Somethin’s wrong now—and I can help. Let me keep helpin’, Brooke, dear. Don’t tell him I’m well, or he might get it into his head to leave, thinkin’ I don’t need him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But I do need him. It’s been so wonderful havin’ him home.”

Brooke didn’t need to think long. “I won’t say anything, I promise.”

Mrs. Palmer briefly closed her eyes. “Oh, thank you. Now you better go before he gets suspicious.” She looked around frantically. “Ah, here’s Connie’s coffee cake. Take some to your mama, and that’ll be a good excuse for dawdlin’.”

After she’d put half on a paper plate and covered it in foil, their hands met as they exchanged the cake.

“Thank you so much, Brooke,” Mrs. Palmer said. “I hope the lies don’t weigh on you.”

“They won’t.” But she wondered . . .

When she climbed back into the pickup truck, Adam looked at her with concern. “I almost came in. She didn’t fall, did she?”

When he studied her closely, she only gave him a bright smile and stared out the windshield. “Nope, she just wanted to give my mom some coffee cake.”

On the drive home, she thought about her promise to remain silent. It wasn’t hurting Adam to think his grandma was getting feeble. She was in her late seventies and not the same as she used to be. And Brooke was getting lots of practice misrepresenting herself, lately.

But if she had any doubts, all she had to do was conjure up the images Mrs. Palmer had evoked, of Adam so neglected as a child. She knew he was keeping something from her, something that weighed on him. She would keep this truth about his grandma to herself in response and hope that Mrs. Palmer had it right.