“I don’t know where this is going,” she told Katie honestly. “But I won’t lie to him about my feelings. I promise you.”
“He’s a good man,” Katie said in a quiet voice.
“He’s a very good man,” Sydney agreed. “And he’s lucky to have you.”
Katie cracked a small smile.
Sydney reached out and touched her shoulder. “I’m serious, Katie. You are a terrific sister-in-law. Cole knows full well that I want the Thunderbolt. If anything happens between us, we’ll both go into it with our eyes wide open.”
Katie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, giving Sydney a watery smile. “So, you think there might be a chance for the two of you?”
Sydney took a deep breath, turning back to the wind-shield as she chose her words. “I think Cole and I are going to have a very interesting relationship.”
Sydney’s answers must have satisfied Katie, because at the end of the day, Katie suggested stopping at her grandmother’s for dinner. She said Saturday night was traditionally for family, and a perfect opportunity for Sydney to meet Grandma.
Cole had warned Sydney that his grandma was an incorrigible matchmaker, and that she’d go for broke the minute she laid eyes on Sydney. So Sydney was prepared for anything.
What she got was a sharp, funny, sweet-natured, little woman in a floppy hat and bright gardening gloves with a dream of a period house. Circa 1940, it had an octagonal entry hall, with an archway that led to a living room, while another doorway led to what looked like the master bedroom.
The wallpaper was yellowed and russet tiles were faded with age. But the wood trim shone with a dark patina and the leaded windows were definitely original.
“Your home is beautiful,” Sydney said to Grandma, peering into the living room. The couch and armchair were burgundy, looped brocade, dotted with doilies that Sydney would bet Cole’s grandmother had crocheted herself.
Grandma glanced around. “Never thought of it as beautiful before.”
“It’s gorgeous,” said Sydney, smiling at the incongruous wide-screen television and the personal computer perched on an antique, rolltop desk. Oh, how she’d love to check her e-mail.
“Sydney’s here to visit for a few days,” said Katie. “She’s interested in the Thunderbolt of the North.”
Sydney stole a quick glance at Katie, trying to decide if she was giving Grandma a subtle warning about her possible motives.
“Have to marry Cole to get the Thunderbolt,” said Grandma as she led the way through the living room.
“So I understand,” said Sydney.
They passed into a second octagonal hallway in the middle of the house, and then through a doorway to the kitchen at the back.
“Good news is that he’s available,” said Grandma.
“You know, he told me that himself.”
Grandma looked back and cocked her head. “Did he, now?”
Sydney nodded.
The older woman smiled. She took a blue enamel kettle out of a painted cupboard and filled it with water from the deep, old-fashioned sink. “From New York, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Like it here in Texas?”
“So far I’m having a wonderful time.”
“That’s good.” Grandma nodded her head. “Cole’s mother passed away, you know.”
“Katie told me about that.”
“His dad, too. My Neil.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“Well, I’m still here. And I’ve always figured that meant I’ve still got a job to do with one wayward grandson.”
Sydney grinned, assuming she was in for the full court press. “You mean Cole or Kyle?”
“Cole, of course.” Grandma paused. “You want to help me?” Then a split second later she gestured to a bowl of freshly picked blueberries so that the question could be interpreted either way.
“I’d love to help.” Sydney was ready to give her all on both fronts.
“Good!” Grandma winked. “You can wash the berries. Katie, you get down a mixing bowl.”
Katie opened a high cupboard and retrieved a large stoneware bowl. “Grandma’s scones are renowned in this part of Texas.”
“Recipe is a family secret,” said Grandma. “Handed down from generation to generation.”
“Can’t wait to try them,” said Sydney, pushing up the sleeves of her shirt.
“Grandma?” Katie ventured. “Why don’t you explain to Sydney why the Thunderbolt goes to the wives?”
“I’ll do that,” said Grandma with a nod.
Katie turned to waggle an eyebrow at Sydney. “I love this story.”
“Near as I can figure,” said Grandma, scooping into a tin flour canister, “it started around the middle of the fourteenth century.”
Sydney was instantly riveted. There was nothing she liked better than family lore. As far as she was concerned, stories were as important as antiquities.
“The family went through a streak of good-for-nothing eldest sons,” Grandma continued. “Worry was, if the young scoundrels got control of the Thunderbolt, they’d sell it for wenches and ale.”
Sydney ran some water over the blueberries.
“Old Hendrik wanted to make sure they earned their money the Viking way,” said Grandma, her practiced hands cutting a block of butter into the flour mixture. “By raiding and pillaging.”
Sydney longed for a pen. She’d have to ask permission, of course, but she’d love to write this down for the museum.
“So, that’s why Cole can’t get the Thunderbolt until his wedding?” Sydney worked the stubby green stems off the berries.
“Can’t have Cole going after ale and wenches,” said Grandma with a wink and a sparkling smile.
“Do you have a lot of stories?” asked Sydney.
“Some,” said Grandma.
“I’d love to hear them.”
“And I love to talk. We’ll get along just fine.”
Grandma opened a drawer beneath the counter and pulled out a wooden rolling pin. “Berries ready?”
Sydney quickly turned her attention to the bowl, picking out the last of the stems, draining the water. Then she rolled the blueberries onto a clean towel.
“So, what do you say?” asked Grandma. “You willing to give my grandson a go?”
The front door slammed. “Grandma?” called Cole.
Grandma winked at Sydney again as she rolled out a round of dough. “That man needs a strong, intelligent woman,” she stage-whispered.
Cole sauntered into the kitchen. “There you are.” He gave his grandma a hug. He nodded to Katie. Then he clasped Sydney around the shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. Good compromise.
“How was the trip?” he asked.
“Bought a Stetson and some blue jeans,” said Sydney, finding it ridiculously easy to act excited about Cole’s presence.
“Can’t wait to see them.” He dropped his arm from her shoulders and turned back to his grandma. “Need anything from the garden?”
“Potatoes and carrots,” she answered.
“Want to help?” he asked Sydney.
“Sure.”
Cole strode for the kitchen door, opening it and motioning for her to go first.
As she crossed the back deck to the stairs, she took in the spectacular panorama. She could see the roof of Cole’s cabin, the winding creek, the blue-green lake and Katie and Kyle’s house on a distant hill. Evergreens on the mountain ridges spiked up to a crackling turquoise sky.
“Be careful. They’re steep,” Cole warned from behind.
Sydney put her hand on the painted rail as she started down the long staircase that led to a lawn and a huge vegetable garden.
“How did it go?” Cole kept his voice low.
“Your grandma’s definitely on board,” said Sydney. “But Katie thought I was trying to romance the brooch out from under you.”
Cole moved up beside her as they hit the bottom. “How do you know that?”
“She didn’t pull any punches. She flat-out accused me of pretending to fall for you in order to get the Thunderbolt.”