True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(9)

Then his gaze slid past her to Brooke, unreadable, but enough to make her nervous. And she was never nervous.

Emily glanced over her shoulder at Brooke, eyes wide with innocence. “Brooke said you were very brave, going into a burning building.”

Brooke forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“It must be all that Marine training,” Emily added, when he said nothing.

He gave her a small smile. Brooke tried not to study him, but it was difficult. He seemed so . . . different. She remembered a young man who would jump into every conversation to make himself a part of it. For a boy whose grades weren’t all that great, he’d always raised his hand in class even if he didn’t know the answer. He liked to be in the spotlight. He had opinions, and a belief in himself that was a bit overinflated . . . more than a bit. Now there was a calmness about him, a watchfulness, that hinted at deep thoughts he didn’t mean to share. He glanced at her more than once, and she couldn’t look away.

And there was his body, of course, the finely sculpted arms and chest of a soldier beneath the tight olive t-shirt, the narrow hips, the thighs that jeans had to stretch across. Brooke felt a little flushed at all the scrutiny she couldn’t seem to stop.

“If only I’d read the cards this mornin’,” Mrs. Palmer berated herself, “I would have known somethin’ was goin’ to happen.”

She was leaning on the cane now, when she hadn’t seemed to need it a moment ago, and her voice had a faint quiver to it. Brooke tried to catch Grandma Thalberg’s eye to give her a bemused look but couldn’t.

“ ‘Read the cards’?” Adam echoed with confusion.

“Tarot cards,” Mrs. Palmer said, reaching out to Adam as if her walk across the kitchen had tired her.

Brooke frowned as she watched Adam lead his grandma back to the kitchen table. “What don’t I know about Mrs. Palmer’s health?” she whispered to her grandma.

Grandma Thalberg just waved a hand as she whispered back, “We’re all getting old, dear. You can’t expect our strength to stay the same. Renee’s fine.”

Fine? Well, she’d seemed fine at first, but she didn’t now. Brooke felt a little pang of worry at the thought of Grandma Thalberg too old to weed the vegetable garden or serve dinner to all the neighbors who came to help at branding time. Adam must have felt the same, by the way he hurried back to Valentine from . . . where?

“Tarot cards,” Adam was saying, doubt laced through his deep voice as he sat down opposite his grandma.

His limp had disappeared, and Brooke was relieved he hadn’t been seriously hurt.

“I didn’t practice the art when you were small,” Mrs. Palmer told Adam. “I learned it much later. I like seein’ the patterns that tie the present to the future. I can offer guidance and possibilities for someone who needs them—without soundin’ like I’m buttin’ in.”

“I must admit I was skeptical,” Mrs. Ludlow said, shaking her head, “especially when she convinced Mrs. Wilcox, who works part-time for Monica, that her headstrong daughter might be with child but everything would work out fine. And don’t you know, the boy proposed the next day, right on the Rose Garden bridge.”

Adam continued to frown, and Brooke chuckled, though she could have told him not to try to see logic in what the widows did. Surely Mrs. Palmer had written to him of their continued exploits. They’d certainly done a few wild things when he was a boy. But he was already gone when they’d given cap guns to all the kids attending the grand opening of the toy store, only to set off the smoke detectors.

Adam began, “Grandma, you know—”

“Can you stay for dinner, girls?” Mrs. Ludlow smoothly interrupted. She gestured to Grandma Thalberg. “Rosemary is going to make her famous chicken salad. And we still have cookies from the Sugar and Spice left over from the school bake sale.”

Emily grinned, then her expression clouded as she looked at Mrs. Palmer. “I know you’re on the schedule at the bakery tomorrow, Mrs. Palmer. I’d be happy to cover for you if you’re not feeling well.”

“You work?” Adam said to his grandma in surprise. “You didn’t mention that on the phone. You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s only been the last few months, and I enjoy it,” Mrs. Palmer insisted. “We all work part-time for Emily, along with several of our friends. That way none of us works too much. So don’t worry about me, dear. If I’m feeling poorly, Connie and I will exchange shifts.”

Mrs. Ludlow nodded regally. “Of course we will.”