Unlikely Lover. Diana Palmer
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God’s sake. There he was, a contented bachelor making money hand over fist. He married that model and lost everything—”
“He got everything back, with interest,” Lillian interrupted, “and you say one more word about Miss Erin and I’ll scald you, so help me!”
He shrugged. “Well, she is pretty. Nice twins, too. They look a little like Ty.”
“Poor old thing,” Lillian said gently. “He was homely as sin and all alone and meaner than a tickled rattlesnake. And now here he’s made his peace with you and even let you have those oil leases you’ve been after for ten years. Yes sir, love sure is a miracle,” she added with a purely calculating look.
He shivered. “Talking about it gives me hives. Talk about something else.” He was filling his plate and nibbling between comments.
Lillian folded her hands in front of her, hesitating, but only for an instant. “I’ve got a problem.”
“I know. Grandmother.”
“A bigger one.”
He stopped eating and looked up. She did seem to be worried. He laid down his fork. “Well? What’s the problem?”
She shifted from one foot to the other. “My brother’s eldest girl, Marianne,” she said. “Ben died last year, you remember.”
“Yes. You went to his funeral. His wife died years earlier, didn’t she?”
Lillian nodded. “Well, Marianne and her best friend, Beth, went shopping at one of those all-night department store sales. On their way out, as they crossed the parking lot, a man tried to attack them. It was terrible,” she continued huskily. “Terrible! The girls were just sickened by the whole experience!” She lowered her voice just enough to sound dramatic. “It left deep scars. Deep emotional scars,” she added meaningfully, watching to see how he was reacting. So far, so good.
He sat up straighter, listening. “Your niece will be all right, won’t she?” he asked hesitantly.
“Yes. She’s all right physically.” She twisted her skirt. “But it’s her state of mind that I’m worried about.”
“Marianne…” He nodded, remembering a photograph he’d seen of Lillian’s favorite niece. A vivid impression of long dark hair and soft blue eyes and an oval, vulnerable young face brought a momentary smile to his lips.
“She’s no raving beauty, and frankly, she hasn’t dated very much. Her father was one of those domineering types whose reputation kept the boys away from her when she lived at home. But now…” She sighed even more dramatically. “Poor little Mari.” She glanced up. “She’s been keeping the books for a big garage. Mostly men. She said it’s gotten to the point that if a man comes close enough to open a door for her, she breaks out in a cold sweat. She needs to get away for a little while, out of the city, and get her life back together.”
“Poor kid,” he said, sincere yet cautious.
“She’s almost twenty-two,” Lillian said. “What’s going to become of her?” she asked loudly, peeking out the corner of her eye at him.
He whistled softly. “Therapy would be her best bet.”
“She won’t talk to anyone,” she said quickly, cocking her head to one side. “Now, I know how you feel about women. I don’t even blame you. But I can’t turn my back on my own niece.” She straightened, playing her trump card. “Now, I’m fully prepared to give up my job and go to her—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, you know me better than that after fifteen years,” he returned curtly. “Send her an airline ticket.”
“She’s in Georgia—”
“So what?”
Lillian toyed with a pan of rolls. “Well, thanks. I’ll make it up to you somehow,” she said with a secretive grin.
“If you’re feeling that generous, how about an apple pie?”
The older woman chuckled. “Thirty minutes,” she said and dashed off to the kitchen like a woman half her age. She could have danced with glee. He’d fallen for it! Stage one was about to take off! Forgive me, Mari, she thought silently and began planning again.
Ward stared after her with confused emotions. He hoped that he’d made the right decision. Maybe he was just going soft in his old age. Maybe…
“My bed was more uncomfortable than a sheet filled with cacti,” came a harsh, angry old voice from the doorway. He turned as his grandmother ambled in using her cane, broad as a beam and as formidable as a raiding party, all cold green eyes and sagging jowls and champagnetinted hair that waved around her wide face.
“Why don’t you sleep in the stable?” he asked her pleasantly. “Hay’s comfortable.”
She glared at him and waved her cane. “Shame on you, talking like that to a pitiful old woman!”
“I pity anyone who stands within striking distance of that cane,” he assured her. “When do you leave for Galveston?”
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?” she demanded as she slid warily into a chair beside him.
“Oh, no,” he assured her. “I’ll miss you like the plague.”
“You cowhand,” she grumbled, glaring at him. “Just like your father. He was hell to live with, too.”
“You sweet-tempered little woman,” he taunted.
“I guess you get that wit from your father. And he got it from me,” she confessed. She poured herself a cup of coffee. “I hope Belinda is easier to get along with than you and your saber-toothed housekeeper.”
“I am not saber-toothed,” Lillian assured her as she brought in more rolls.
“You are so,” Mrs. Jessup replied curtly. “In my day we’d have lynched you on a mesquite tree for insubordination!”
“In your day you’d have been hanging beside me,” Lillian snorted and walked out.
“Are you going to let her talk to me like that?” Mrs. Jessup demanded of her grandson.
“You surely don’t want me to walk into that kitchen alone?” he asked her. “She keeps knives in there.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward her. “And a sausage grinder. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Mrs. Jessup tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. She hit at him affectionately. “Reprobate. Why do I put up with you?”
“You can’t help yourself,” he said with a chuckle. “Eat. You can’t travel halfway across Texas on an empty stomach.”
She put down her coffee cup. “Are you sure this night flight is a good idea?”
“It’s less crowded. Besides, Belinda and her newest boyfriend are going to meet you at the airport,” he said. “You’ll be safe.”
“I guess so.” She stared at the platter of beef that was slowly being emptied. “Give me some of that before you gorge yourself!”
“It’s my cow,” he muttered, green eyes glittering.
“It descended from one of mine. Give it here!”
Ward sighed, defeated. Handing the platter to her with a resigned expression, he watched her beam with the tiny triumph. He had to humor her just a little occasionally. It kept her from getting too crotchety.
Later he drove her to the airport and put her on a plane. As he went back toward his ranch, he wondered about Marianne Raymond and how it was going to be with a young woman around the place getting in his hair. Of course, she was just twenty-two, much too young for him. He was thirty-five now, too old for that kind of child-woman. He shook his head. He only hoped that he’d done the right thing. If he hadn’t,