Monkey Wrench. Nancy Martin
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tall frame and broad shoulders. His gaze traveled swiftly to Susannah, and he lifted his brows as if to ask how everything was going. Susannah frowned and shook her head.
Rose turned from the stove. “You don’t look much like an angel, Joe, but you can sing like one. Want a cookie?”
“As many as you can spare,” he said cheerfully.
“Sit down, then. This cocoa is almost ready.”
“Smells great.”
Joe eased his body into the wooden chair opposite Susannah’s, and he continued to watch her face while Rose’s back was turned. “So,” he said, “you two get everything worked out?”
“Yes,” said Rose.
“No,” said Susannah dourly.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Joe responded, reaching a long arm to snatch a cookie off the nearby countertop. “Détente, right?”
“The matter is closed,” Rose said with authority. “Now we’re free to talk about you two.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Granny Rose.” Susannah glowered at Joe, who grinned back at her before taking a sizable chomp out of his cookie. “Nothing whatever.”
“There certainly is, dear. Given a chance, you and Joe might really hit it off.”
To Joe, Susannah said, “She’s just doing this so we’ll leave her alone about her health. I don’t know why she feels she needs to matchmake for me. I’m very busy in Milwaukee.”
“Not the right kind of busy,” Rose said. “Have you ever seen her show, Joe? It’s really wonderful. Last week, Suzie showed how to make Christmas wreaths out of corn husks, how to roast a goose with sage leaves stuffed under the skin and how to make cranberry preserves in crystal glasses to give to your friends. Trouble is, Suzie’s apartment has a front door hardly big enough to hang a wreath, she’d never roast a goose for herself alone, and I’ll bet her friends in the city would rather eat caviar than cranberry preserves.”
“There’s no man in your life?” Joe asked bluntly, polishing off the first cookie and reaching for another.
“No. Yes.” Exasperated, Susannah said, “I have a gentleman friend whom I see regularly.”
“You ‘see’ him?” Joe inquired. “What does that mean exactly?”
“He’s her boss,” Rose supplied. “The station manager. It’s not exactly a hot love affair.”
“It’s comfortable,” Susannah retorted. “Roger and I don’t have time to develop a serious relationship with anyone, so we...well, we’re happy associating with each other. Dinner now and then—that sort of thing. Now could we please get back to the subject at hand—”
“They’re going on vacation together,” Rose added for Joe’s benefit, disregarding Susannah’s attempt to terminate the discussion. “But they’re going to plan the next six months’ worth of ‘Oh, Susannah!’ shows together. Can you imagine going to the beach to work?”
“No,” Joe said promptly. “But then, I hate the beach. I’d much rather go hiking in the snow. What do you want to go to the beach for? You’ll just get sunburned and sweaty.”
“I like the ocean.”
“It’s too hot.”
“It’s beautiful!”
“It’s boring.”
“How could anyone be bored at the beach?” Susannah demanded. “It’s so overwhelming and awe-inspiring—”
“I don’t go on vacations to be overwhelmed.”
“No,” Susannah said, studying him cryptically. “I don’t suppose a guy like you is ever overwhelmed.”
From the stove, Rose interrupted. “I hope you like marshmallows, Joe. I don’t trust a man who won’t eat marshmallows.”
“I love ’em,” Keeping his lazy-eyed grin trained on Susannah, he said, “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”
“But that’s your only weakness, right?” Susannah asked softly. She felt uncomfortably warm under Joe’s penetrating gaze.
He laughed. “How’d you guess?”
“Just a shot in the dark.”
“You think I’m a legend in my own mind?”
“If the shoe fits...”
Joe leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and staring straight into Susannah’s eyes. “And you,” he said distinctly, “are so caught up in your big-city career that you wouldn’t recognize a real man if you ran into one in a dark alley.”
“I avoid dark alleys,” she replied primly.
“Scared?”
“No, just smart.”
“Sometimes even smart people have to take risks. Otherwise, life passes you by, Miss Suzie.”
“Children, children,” Rose cautioned, looking absurdly pleased as she carried two china cups of steaming cocoa to the table. Both cups were crowded with marshmallows. “You’re making assumptions about each other before giving this whole thing a chance.”
Susannah blinked in astonishment at her grandmother. “Five minutes ago you were threatening you’d never speak to this man again! Now you’re practically angling for a marriage proposal! What’s happened?”
Rose set the cups in front of her guests and said smugly, “I was blinded by a brilliant idea. I’ve never known two people who were more ideal for each other.”
“Ideal?” Susannah objected, laughing. “You’re always digging up men with whom I have nothing in common!”
“Hey!” Joe sat upright, feigning offense. “How bad do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re bad,” Susannah said quickly, making an effort to be polite despite her frustration. “It’s just that I’m perfectly happy the way I am, and I don’t need a husband to make my life complete.”
“Who said anything about becoming a husband?”
Susannah threw up her hands. “Oh, heavens, how did this conversation get started? Granny Rose, you never seemed to need a man in your life.”
“The right one came along at the right time,” Rose said peaceably, pouring herself a cup of cocoa from the saucepan and adding a generous pile of marshmallows on the top, “but he didn’t last, that’s all. When he passed away, I didn’t feel the need to go looking all over again. I had my happiness. But you haven’t had your chance yet, Suzie.”
“I am happy!”
Rose sniffed. “Drink your cocoa.”
“It’s delicious cocoa,” Joe said to Rose, cradling the cup in one rough hand and slurping marshmallows. “Unique, but classic.”
“Thank you, Joe.” Rose joined them at the table and sipped from her own cup approvingly. “I always add a dash of cinnamon and vanilla along with a pinch of sugar to sweeten the milk. I believe in going the extra step to make everything special...even with little things like cinnamon in cocoa. And I’ve taught Susannah to do the same. Why, you should taste her Christmas eggnog! It’s—”
“You don’t have to sell my wifely skills to Mr. Santori, Granny Rose,” Susannah interrupted dryly. “I am not a prize heifer on the auction block.”
“Don’t be rude, dear, while Joe and I are having an innocent conversation.”
“Must you be so obvious?”
“Obvious about what, dear?”
Susannah