She squeezed his cheek as if he were four. “I know you do. Now let’s go inside. You’ll enjoy meetin’ Whitney.”
Oh, would he? he thought suspiciously. She leaned on his arm and her cane as she walked up the stairs, one at a time, then rapped smartly on the door.
The woman who answered gave Grandma Palmer a friendly smile, then glanced with barely masked surprise at Adam.
“Hello, Mrs. Palmer, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you in person.”
Whitney Winslow was stylishly dressed in slim black pants and a white-and-black-patterned silky-looking top. Adam suspected her clothes wouldn’t look out of place in Aspen. Her black hair hung in various lengths to her shoulders, framing intelligent, gray eyes. If someone could radiate determination, it was Whitney, with her slim back as straight as a Southern finishing-school graduate.
Grandma Palmer beamed and took the other woman’s hand. “Such a pleasure, Whitney, such a pleasure. Allow me to introduce my grandson, Adam Desantis.”
Adam shook her hand gently because his own palm was full of calluses, and hers felt like she’d never done anything more physical than typing at a computer.
Whitney’s smile was nothing more than polite, and he found himself relaxing. At least she didn’t seem to know that his grandma might have several motives for their evening.
Whitney spread her arms wide as if displaying the place. “Mr. Deering, the real-estate agent, left me the keys to give us some privacy.”
“That Howie Junior, so thoughtful.”
Adam remembered Howie—or “Deer” as they’d called him on the football team, for his fast speed at running back. If memory served him, he’d even dated Brooke in high school, but Adam seemed to remember hearing it hadn’t gone too well. Though Deer had been fast on his feet, he was clumsy as an ox with girls.
“So what do you think?” Whitney asked, turning around slowly.
Adam saw a large bare room with a fireplace on one side, and huge, plate-glass windows facing the front porch. An intricately carved banister followed stairs up to the next floor. There were two doors at the rear.
“I plan to take out the wall into the dining room for one big showroom,” Whitney explained. “The fireplace will make it seem so intimate.”
So will the lingerie, Adam almost said. But it was none of his business. He strolled around to peer into the kitchen and dining room while the two women went on and on about the lingerie catalogue online, until his ears were burning at hearing words like bustier and teddy come from his grandma’s lips. He wondered if Brooke had seen his grandma order something online but spared his feelings by not telling him.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your support, Mrs. Palmer,” Whitney said. “We should have no problems.”
Grandma glanced at Adam as her smile dimmed a bit. “Well . . . that might not be true, my dear Whitney. There are some people in town who’ve heard you’re inquirin’ about a permit, and they’re not too happy.”
Whitney turned a baffled expression on Adam, then back to his grandma. “But . . . I have two other stores, and I’ve never had a problem.”
“I heard about the one in San Francisco,” Grandma said. “Where’s the other?”
“Las Vegas.”
“Ah well, there you have it.” Grandma shook her head. “They’re big cities, and Valentine Valley is a small town with some small minds who can easily influence the rest of ’em.”
Whitney’s expression turned pensive, and she rubbed her upper arms as if comforting herself.
“But don’t worry, dear,” Grandma said in a cheerful voice. “You’re not alone, as you can tell from that newspaper article.”
Whitney frowned. “Article?”
Grandma opened her purse and pulled out the folded Valentine Gazette. “So be at ease, knowin’ you have help. We’ll be there to back you at the town-council meetin’.”
Whitney sighed. “I didn’t know I needed help.”
Grandma gave Adam a look, and he tensed with expectation.
“Now that we’ve put your mind at ease,” she said, “why not a tour of Valentine Valley? Adam here, would be free to—”
He held up a hand and interrupted. “Sorry, Grandma, but I haven’t lived here for ten years.”
“Yes, yes,” Grandma said, nodding. “And you do work long hours at the ranch.” She smiled up at Whitney. “I’ll give you the tour myself one of these days.”
And Whitney would get to hear every detail of Valentine’s history—just what she needed, Adam thought, hiding a smile.