Monkey Wrench. Nancy Martin
Читать онлайн книгу.
darling—just ready for someone to come along and muss her up a little.
With a lilting laugh, she said, “I don’t believe in belting people, Mr. Santori. I leave that to my grandmother. Has she ever told you the story of when she chased off a burglar with a frying pan?”
She was charming, Joe decided. “There are burglars in Tyler?”
“No, it was just a teenage boy trying to sell encyclopedias, but Granny Rose didn’t like the way he seemed to be casing the joint and she decided he was a burglar. Rather than call the police, she chased him for a block, waving a frying pan.” Susannah turned and led the way up the sidewalk to her grandmother’s house, saying, “As it turned out, he was a fraud. Granny Rose investigated the company he worked for and found it was a very shady outfit. Single-handed, she chased them out of the state.”
Joe suspected Susannah was every bit as stubborn as her grandmother. He said, “Rose is independent, all right. I’m glad I don’t have to tangle with her anymore. Maybe you can handle her.”
“She doesn’t need to be ‘handled,’ I’m sure,” Susannah replied.
“Taken care of, then,” Joe corrected.
“No,” she said, mounting the porch steps. “Not that, either. The Atkins women don’t abide people trying to control them. We like our freedom.”
Joe stopped on the top step. “There’s a difference between freedom and plain foolishness. Your grandmother needs supervision, Miss Atkins.”
Susannah paused and turned to face him, lifting one narrow eyebrow as she studied Joe again. “Are you one of those macho fellows who wants to be in charge of everyone, Mr. Santori?”
“Hell, no, but—”
She smiled. “I bet you’re the sole breadwinner in your family, and your word is law at home. Am I right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you’re not used to women like my grandmother. She was the child of an immigrant farmer who built their house with his own two hands, and she worked hard all her life, Mr. Santori. Her husband died when she was still young, and she’s outlasted her children, too, earning a meager livelihood but living a very full life. Don’t think you can come in and start bossing her around now.”
“Listen, Miss Atkins—”
“And you can’t boss me around, either.”
Joe’s comeback was cut off by the sudden opening of the front door, and in another instant, they were joined on the porch by Rose Atkins herself, a feisty old woman in blue jeans and sneakers. She was just as diminutive as her granddaughter, and must have been every bit as beautiful in her day.
“What’s going on out here?” Rose demanded, her blue eyes sparking. “Are you two talking about me?”
“Yes,” Susannah replied at once, kissing her grandmother before saying smoothly, “Mr. Santori tells me you’re furious with him, Granny Rose.”
“I am,” Rose snapped, glowering at Joe and folding her arms over her sweatshirt, which was imprinted with a Far Side cartoon concerning Holstein cows. “He’s poking his nose in things he has no business poking into, and if he’s ruined your vacation, Suzie, I’ll never speak to him again.”
“You have to speak to me,” Joe replied calmly. “I’m not finished fixing up your back porch, and you can’t stop yourself from checking up on me every five minutes.”
“I want the job done right!”
“So you hired the best man to do it!”
“I hired you because you’re the most entertaining carpenter I know, but I didn’t plan on paying you money to butt into my personal affairs.”
“I won’t bill you for butting in.”
Susannah began to laugh. “You two sound like a couple of toddlers who need naps. Granny Rose, I brought you some chutney I made in the fall. Invite Joe inside for a snack and we’ll settle this once and for all.”
Rose looked sulky. “He can come in, I suppose. But we’re not going to talk about me.”
“Well, it’s a start.”
Rose sent Susannah a glance that was suddenly glimmering with purpose. “Maybe we should talk about you.”
“Me?”
“Joe, what do you think of a woman who is so busy being glamorous that she hasn’t time to find a husband and start a family?”
“Granny Rose—!”
“It’s a crying shame,” Joe said, laughing.
“I have spent a lot of time trying to find the right man for my granddaughter, but she’s very fussy, not to mention more disorganized than...” Rose snapped her fingers. “Good heavens! I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.”
“What are you talking about, Granny Rose?”
“You and Joe, of course. Despite some rather obvious superficial differences, I suspect you’d make a perfect couple.”
“A perfect—? Granny Rose!”
“Why, of course! Joe is so bossy and you’re such a fool with keeping track of things that...why, you’re ideal for each other!”
Joe began to laugh at Susannah’s expression—a pink-cheeked, blue-eyed combination of mortification and profound fury. The glamorous television star in her stylish beret looked appalled at the thought of being half a couple with a blue-collar carpenter. She swung on Joe with fire in her eyes, as if blaming him for the sudden turn of events.
Joe was still laughing. “It looks like your grandmother’s not the only one who resents interference, Miss Suzie.”
“I never—I didn’t—”
“Come inside, Joe,” Rose commanded. “I want you to get to know my granddaughter.”
It was a command Joe couldn’t resist. He stepped inside the house on the heels of Susannah Atkins, the most beautiful little hothead he’d ever laid eyes on.
“I DID NOT COME to Tyler to meet men, Granny Rose.” Susannah stepped inside the house and said vehemently, “I came to see you.”
“Well, you’ve seen me, and I’m fine, so you might as well get to know Joe.” Rose took Susannah’s coat and hung it in the closet.
Susannah suppressed a smile and kept her patience. Rose Atkins had always been a stubborn lady, and old age hadn’t changed that. “I know Joe as much as I care to know him—no insult intended, Mr. Santori—but I’m very concerned about you, Granny Rose.”
Rose kicked off her sneakers, turned on the heel of her woolly white sock and padded back through the downstairs hallway, calling over her shoulder, “No need to be concerned. I’m in tip-top shape. Joe, you can take that bag upstairs—that should keep you out of trouble for a few minutes. The first bedroom on your right. Then meet us in the kitchen for cocoa. Consider it a peace offering. Come along, Suzie.”
Amused and exasperated at the same time, Susannah looked at Joe, who was closing the front door. Tartly, she said to him, “This is starting to look very much like a wild-goose chase. My grandmother seems fine.”
Joe grinned. “Ornery as ever, huh?”
“She’s not ornery, she’s...” Susannah stopped herself. “Come to think of it, Granny Rose isn’t usually ornery.”
Joe jerked his head to indicate the kitchen. “Go talk to her. I’ll hang around upstairs and give you a few minutes together.”