Hopefully, she wouldn’t run from him the way she had at Brady’s
sister’s Vivi’s wedding when she’d dropped those cream puffs on his head.
She’d acted as if he was the big bad wolf ready to gobble her up.
Though he wasn’t the big bad wolf, he was through being Mr. Nice Guy.
From now on, he would pursue his goals with a vengeance. And landing
that job topped his list.
He would do whatever was necessary in order to secure it.
Rebecca and her grandmother ambled up the wraparound porch, heads bowed,
voices hushed. Thomas hunched his shoulders against the chilly December
air and strode across the lawn to catch Rebecca before she left. Then he
would set his plan in motion.
Rebecca slipped into her Grammy Rose’s parlor, breathing in the essence
of her grandmother in the polished antiques and silver-framed photos of
family and friends. She had always loved this room, loved the
needlepoint pillows and china cups, the smell of Grammy’s rose-scented
sachets filling the air, the scrapbooks full of treasured gifts from
each of her grandchildren.
Someday she wanted a room like this in her own home. Just like she
wanted a house full of kids, and then grandchildren. She would keep
rose-scented potpourri in the house and homemade doilies on the coffee
table, and keep pictures of all her children and grandchildren framed on
the wall.
“It’s time you take your hope chest home,” Grammy said.
Rebecca’s throat tightened at the sight of the ornately carved wooden
chest. Alison and her sisters had talked as if their hope chests earned
some kind of
secret power. Like an omen for the future. Or maybe Grammy Rose did.
Did the hope chest mean a wedding might be in the future for her?
No, Rebecca couldn’t allow herself to believe in such fantasies.
“But, Grammy, I’m not getting married.”
“Nonsense. Of course you are.”
Rebecca stared wide-eyed at the chest. She itched to reach out and touch
it, to open it and discover what treasures lay inside.
But she couldn’t admit those feelings aloud.
“No, I…I don’t want to get married,” she forced herself to say. “I.
..I like my life just the way it is.”
Thomas overheard Rebecca talking to her grandmother and breathed a sigh
of relief. Rebecca didn’t want marriage, so he didn’t have to worry
about her getting the wrong idea if he cozied up to her.
Thank goodness.
He didn’t want to hurt her. But being friendly with her might help his
chances of getting the new job. Then he could move on with his life and
make a name for himself in the medical world. And he’d finally fulfill
that promise he’d made to himself years ago.
Yes, Rebecca would be the key to him leaving Sugar Hill.
The voices behind the door grew hushed, and he strained to hear, then
stepped back, ashamed at himself for eavesdropping. Suddenly the door
swung open, and Grammy Rose’s pointed chin jutted up in surprise, her
eyes sparkling.
“Hey there, young man.” She threaded a strand of
gray hair back inside the pearl clip at her nape. “Dr. Emerson, isn’t it?”
Heat warmed Thomas’s neck. She didn’t know he’d been listening, did she?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Listen, son, could you do me a favor?”
“I’ll do what I can.” Surely, she wasn’t inventing an illness for him to
treat, like a few of the women patients who swarmed his office. He’d
never seen anything like life in Sugar Hill.
“Good. My granddaughter Rebecca needs help carrying her hope chest to
the car.” She gestured toward the room behind her. “She’s right there in
the parlor.”
Thomas frowned. Didn’t women receive hope chests when they were engaged?
Odd. He’d just heard Rebecca say she wasn’t interested in marriage.
Rebecca slid a finger around the lock of the chest and released it, her
heart pounding when the top sprang open. She should wait until she
arrived home to look inside the hope chest. But curiosity
sister’s Vivi’s wedding when she’d dropped those cream puffs on his head.
She’d acted as if he was the big bad wolf ready to gobble her up.
Though he wasn’t the big bad wolf, he was through being Mr. Nice Guy.
From now on, he would pursue his goals with a vengeance. And landing
that job topped his list.
He would do whatever was necessary in order to secure it.
Rebecca and her grandmother ambled up the wraparound porch, heads bowed,
voices hushed. Thomas hunched his shoulders against the chilly December
air and strode across the lawn to catch Rebecca before she left. Then he
would set his plan in motion.
Rebecca slipped into her Grammy Rose’s parlor, breathing in the essence
of her grandmother in the polished antiques and silver-framed photos of
family and friends. She had always loved this room, loved the
needlepoint pillows and china cups, the smell of Grammy’s rose-scented
sachets filling the air, the scrapbooks full of treasured gifts from
each of her grandchildren.
Someday she wanted a room like this in her own home. Just like she
wanted a house full of kids, and then grandchildren. She would keep
rose-scented potpourri in the house and homemade doilies on the coffee
table, and keep pictures of all her children and grandchildren framed on
the wall.
“It’s time you take your hope chest home,” Grammy said.
Rebecca’s throat tightened at the sight of the ornately carved wooden
chest. Alison and her sisters had talked as if their hope chests earned
some kind of
secret power. Like an omen for the future. Or maybe Grammy Rose did.
Did the hope chest mean a wedding might be in the future for her?
No, Rebecca couldn’t allow herself to believe in such fantasies.
“But, Grammy, I’m not getting married.”
“Nonsense. Of course you are.”
Rebecca stared wide-eyed at the chest. She itched to reach out and touch
it, to open it and discover what treasures lay inside.
But she couldn’t admit those feelings aloud.
“No, I…I don’t want to get married,” she forced herself to say. “I.
..I like my life just the way it is.”
Thomas overheard Rebecca talking to her grandmother and breathed a sigh
of relief. Rebecca didn’t want marriage, so he didn’t have to worry
about her getting the wrong idea if he cozied up to her.
Thank goodness.
He didn’t want to hurt her. But being friendly with her might help his
chances of getting the new job. Then he could move on with his life and
make a name for himself in the medical world. And he’d finally fulfill
that promise he’d made to himself years ago.
Yes, Rebecca would be the key to him leaving Sugar Hill.
The voices behind the door grew hushed, and he strained to hear, then
stepped back, ashamed at himself for eavesdropping. Suddenly the door
swung open, and Grammy Rose’s pointed chin jutted up in surprise, her
eyes sparkling.
“Hey there, young man.” She threaded a strand of
gray hair back inside the pearl clip at her nape. “Dr. Emerson, isn’t it?”
Heat warmed Thomas’s neck. She didn’t know he’d been listening, did she?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Listen, son, could you do me a favor?”
“I’ll do what I can.” Surely, she wasn’t inventing an illness for him to
treat, like a few of the women patients who swarmed his office. He’d
never seen anything like life in Sugar Hill.
“Good. My granddaughter Rebecca needs help carrying her hope chest to
the car.” She gestured toward the room behind her. “She’s right there in
the parlor.”
Thomas frowned. Didn’t women receive hope chests when they were engaged?
Odd. He’d just heard Rebecca say she wasn’t interested in marriage.
Rebecca slid a finger around the lock of the chest and released it, her
heart pounding when the top sprang open. She should wait until she
arrived home to look inside the hope chest. But curiosity
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