A Wild Goose Chase Christmas: Quilts of Love Series Read Free Page A

raised by his insistence. “I have school in the morning.”
    Surprise softened Max’s features. “You’re a student?”
    “No, a teacher,” she snapped. Why did everyone always think she was younger than she was? “I have to teach school in the morning.”
    “Oh, well, fine.” He wadded up the handkerchief and stuffed it in the pocket of his slacks. “What time should I come over, then?”
    “You can’t. Not tomorrow. I’m busy after school.”
    He huffed out an exasperated breath. “Doing what?”
    “Finalizing my grandmother’s funeral.” Max Logan was rude and insufferable, and only the fact that his grandfather stood beside him kept Izzy from saying so. “The funeral is on Saturday, and I doubt I’ll want to talk to anyone on Sunday. So Monday is the best I can do.”
    The furrow in his brow deepened, and Izzy steeled herself for his argument. But Virgil intervened.
    “Give it a rest, Max.” He put his hand on the younger man’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “The quilt’s been meandering across the country for a hundred years. A few more days won’t make any difference.”
    Max patted Virgil’s hand, then removed it from his arm. “You’re right. I can wait.” He looked back at Izzy. “I’m sorry about your loss. Mrs. Randolph was quite a special lady.”
    Like a blade between her ribs, his comment brought up even more questions. Why had Gran never mentioned this man? How had the two of them become so close? And did she really promise to give him the quilt?
    “Thank you.” The words came out in a whisper.
    Max nodded. “I’ll be by Monday afternoon, then.”
    Izzy cleared her throat, wanting her next statement to be heard loud and clear. “I’d rather you not come here again.”
    “Excuse me?” Eyes narrowed, head cocked to the side and extended toward her, he resembled Bogie when he saw another dog on television.
    “I’d rather meet you at your office.” It occurred to Izzy that she didn’t know anything about this man other than what he’d told her. She needed to make sure the museum he spoke about, and his position there, actually existed. “You do have an office, don’t you?”
    “Yes.” Max bit the word off, letting her know what he thought of the implication behind her question. Beside him, Virgil snickered.
    “Do you have a card?”
    Without a word, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, fished out a card, and handed it to her. She shifted the quilt box, holding it against her hip with one arm, took the card with her free hand, and ran her thumb over the embossed letters. Max Logan, Director, California Pioneer Museum. It certainly looked official.
    “I’ll see you Monday, then.” She set the card on top of the quilt.
    “Fine. Come on, Gramps.” He motioned to Virgil with a jerk of his head, then stomped to the front door and yanked it open. The rain was coming down in sheets now. Without hesitating, Max took off his trench coat and held it out to his grandfather. “If you put this over your head, you should make it to the car without getting drenched.”
    So he did have a heart. In a moment, Izzy took in the broad shoulders beneath his sensible dress shirt, his tie knotted looser than it should be and listing to one side. He was a handsome man, no doubt about it. But what did her in was the expression on his face: the softening of his lips, the concern in his eyes ashe took care of Virgil, even though Max obviously thought his grandfather had caused a lot of trouble today. And Izzy was sending them out into the rain. Who was heartless now?
    “Wait.”
    Both men turned their heads toward her. She started to put the box down but thought better of it when she noticed Max leaning forward, hopeful that she’d changed her mind. She held up her hand, signaling for them to stay put, then jogged down the hall and rifled through the coat closet.
    When she came back, she held the box clumsily against her chest with one arm and waived an umbrella in the air with her