She hung her coat by the back door and had just finished putting on her pink-and-white-striped flannel pajamas and brushing her teeth when she heard her grandfather's truck. She moved to the dark doorway of the kitchen and waited. Her grandfather entered as quietly as possible, then he turned and slowly closed the back door.
Kate flipped on the light, and her grandfather spun around on the heels of his wingtips. He froze like a kid sneaking home after curfew.
"I didn't think you'd still be up," he said as color rose up his neck to his cheeks.
She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "I was worried you'd been wrecked in a ditch."
"I was with Grace."
She didn't bother mentioning that she already knew where he'd been. "You could have called. The last time I talked to you was this morning when you left for Boise."
"I'm sorry you were worried, Katie." He took off his coat and hung it by the back door. "I've asked Grace to marry me."
Kate dropped her hands to her sides. "What?"
"I've asked Grace to marry me. She said yes."
"But…" Kate stared at him, sure she'd misunderstood. Married? People didn't get married after one night in the sack. That was afterglow. Not lasting love. "But Granddad… just because you have sex with someone doesn't mean you have to get married. It's the twenty-first century, for God's sake. Don't be so old-fashioned."
He slowly turned and looked at her. "I may be old-fashioned to you, but I am an honorable man. I would never disrespect a woman. I would hope that a woman I cared about would expect me to be honorable. That's what's wrong with your generation, Katherine. You reduce sex to fornication."
Katherine? She moved toward him. "I'm sorry. It just seems sudden."
"My feelings for Grace started the night I heard her poetry at the grange and have gotten deeper ever since."
"Don't you think you should date for a while first?" She'd never had a marriage proposal, and she'd dated men for as long as three years.
"Katie, I'm in my seventies. I don't exactly have a lot of time to mess around with dating." He patted her on the shoulder as he moved past. "When two people are in love, why wait?"
Kate could think of a lot of reasons. She kept them to herself. If Grace made her grandfather happy, then what kind of granddaughter would she be if she rained on his parade? She just hoped he knew what he was doing. "And you are positive this is what you want? And you're not just feeling-you know-afterglow?"
"This is what I want. I want a woman who is worth more to me than"-he paused and his cheeks turned pink again-"afterglow." He shook his head. "You are worth more than that too, Katie. You are worth everything a man can give you."
Now it was her turn to get red-faced. "I know." But knowing it in her head and not getting "afterglow" until she got a marriage proposal were, two different things. That pony was already before the cart. Or was it that the pony was already out of the gate? Or was it that the pony was giving the milk for free? She wasn't sure.
There were a few things she did know for sure, though. There was no way the pony was going back in the gate. Not when the pony was thirty-four and really liked pulling the milk cart. But her grandfather was right. She deserved more than relationships that went nowhere. Which left her in the same quandary she'd been in the day she'd arrived in Gospel.
Sixteen
"What kind of bread you selling-today?"
"Focaccia."
Ada Dover scrunched up her nose and leaned in for a closer look. Her hair was perfectly sculpted, and the scent of Emeraude engulfed her like a toxic cloud. "It's weird."
"It's very good."
"Still looks weird."
"It has fresh thyme and scallions, Niзoise olives and Parmesan cheese. Would you like to try a sample?"
"I think I better."
Kate bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as she cut a piece of bread and handed it to Ada. Ada's brows lowered as she chewed. "Yep, I better have a loaf of that," she said.
"Would you like some jalapefio jelly to go with your bread?"
"No. Same as yesterday when you asked."
Kate moved from the bread aisle and walked be hind the counter. "I'm going to keep asking until you say yes."
"Well, don't get your heart too set on it. I've liked your bread and some of that fancy cheese, but I just don't see myself warming up to jelly made with jalapenos." Ada set her purse on the counter and pulled out her wallet. "How's your granddad?"
You've wasted your Emeraude, Kate thought as she rang up the bread. He's off the market. "He's at home today taking it easy."
"Is somethin' wrong with him? His joints acting up? He should get some glucosamine. That'll heal him huckety-buck."
"No. He's just taking the morning off." To recover from his wild night. "He said he'd be in around noon."
Ada handed Kate a five, and Kate handed her back her change. "Are you coming to the poetry reading tomorrow night?"
"Oh, I don't know." Kate's mind raced to think up an excuse. "I think I'll be too busy getting bread ready for the next day," was the best she could do.
"Too bad. You'll miss my new and revised poem about Snickers."
Kate smiled. "Yeah, that is too bad."
Ada put her change away and picked up her bread. "Well, I'll tell ya what. I'll bring over a copy tomorrow afternoon, special for you, so you can read and enjoy it."
"Really?" Kate forced her smile to stay in place. "That would be great."
After Ada left, Kate restocked the "ethnic food" aisle, which consisted of refried beans, salsa, and canned chilies. At noon, Stanley arrived, as he'd said he would. His smile curved up the corners of his mustache, and he hummed what sounded like the William Tell Overture all day. Not "What's New Pussy Cat" or "Delilah," but classical music like Grace listened to.
He had it bad.
At three, Rob called with a delivery for across the parking lot. Kate didn't balk at his laziness this time since she figured he probably wanted to talk over the latest news with her.
As Kate left the grocery store, dull gray clouds hung over the wilderness area, threatening rain. A strong breeze played with the ties that closed her cuffs and secured the front of her cream-colored blouse. She wore a peach flared skirt and cream pumps with ankle straps. Wind whipped her hair as she glanced in the bag and smiled. Four granola bars and a bottle of passion fruit juice. Some people were so predictable.
Inside Sutter Sports, a man and his son looked at a row of mountain bikes while a woman leaned her elbows on the checkout counter. She'd squeezed herself into a tight pair of Wranglers, and her behind was pointed at Kate. Rob stood on the other side of the counter, chatting and tapping a pen on the cash register. He wore a dark green polo with the store's fish logo on the breast pocket, and when he looked up, a smile curved his lips.
"Babe," he said, "I'm so glad you finally got here."
Babe? Either he was really, really hungry, or he was talking to someone else. Kate glanced over her shoulder as she walked toward him. There was no one behind her, and she turned back as Rob came out from behind the counter and moved to her. She was about to ask him if he'd been eating paint chips when he stunned her even more. He wrapped her in a big hug that lifted the heels of her shoes off the floor. The scent of his sandalwood soap filled her lungs and her stomach got a little light, like she'd swallowed some air.
"Pretend to be my girlfriend," he said next to her ear.
Kate glanced behind him as Dixie Howe straightened and turned around. She'd somehow managed to squeeze her breasts into a little midriff top that was more suited for the beach than an overcast day in April. More suited for someone half her age, too.