Dane's Storm(79)

At that I shook my head. “It’s true you didn’t make things any easier, Mrs. Townsend, but Dane and I are the only ones responsible for what happened between us.”

She pressed her lips together, doubt clouding her expression. “Well, all the same, I wondered if there might be something I could do to bring you back together. I thought with a little push . . . But I knew you’d inherited Wallace’s stubborn streak, that annoying penchant he had for martyrdom.”

I laughed, surprising even myself, and she gave me a wry tilt of her lips. “I figured the only reason you might go to Dane is if I threatened your business, the one thing you seemed to care about once I looked into your life a little.”

I made a sound in the back of my throat. “You were right on the money.”

She smiled. “I’m good with money.”

“That you are.” I shook my head in amazement as I stared at her. “So that whole scene at your country club, that was all—”

“An act to light a fire under you, yes.”

“It worked,” I murmured. “I did exactly as you figured I would.” I thought about flying to California, confronting Dane . . . all a setup. God, my mind was whirling with a hundred questions, but one thing confused me. “Did you tell Dane’s secretary not to let me see him?”

She shook her head. “I told her not to let you speak to him on the phone. I suggested you were a persistent ex-wife who was trying to get more money out of him. After I heard how difficult she made it for you to see him once you arrived in California, I suspected she had her own personal designs on him. That difficulty wasn’t my doing.”

“Huh,” I said, still shocked. “Well, it turned out as you’d planned in the end.”

She looked down. “Yes, only my actions almost got both of you killed. When I heard your plane went down, I was horrified, devastated.”

I regarded her, noticing that her face had paled at the mention of our crash, and her hands were trembling slightly. “There was no way you ever could have anticipated something like that happening. It was just . . . an act of God. You can’t prepare for those,” I said softly. “You can only survive them.”

Her shoulders slowly lowered as if in a small measure of relief. “Still . . . I would have blamed myself forever.”

I bit my lip, my mind whirling with everything she was telling me. “Mrs. Townsend—”

“Please. Luella.”

I gave her a small smile. “Luella, did you somehow set up those jobs I got at the country clubs and charity functions?” I’d been thrilled when I’d secured such lucrative jobs at events where my work would be on display for other potential big-spending customers, but I’d never been able to pin down exactly who had first heard my name and began spreading the word.

She nodded. “I figured you could use the work. It was mostly because of me you were struggling.”

“I wasn’t struggling that badly,” I murmured, feeling slightly defensive.

“Even so, I have plenty of friends with money just burning a hole in their gold-lined pocketbooks.” She shrugged. “And you do lovely work.”

I tilted my head. “Thank you. So . . . my building, it was never in jeopardy of being taken away?”

“No.”

“Huh,” I breathed, not helping the small laugh that bubbled up in my chest. The old bird wasn’t only a good actress, but she was cunning. It’d take some time to sort through my conflicting feelings for Luella Townsend, and I didn’t imagine we’d ever have the close relationship of a typical grandmother and granddaughter, but I couldn’t help the streak of respect and understanding that speared through me at the knowledge of her story and her plan to reunite Dane and me.

Remembering the letter was still in my hand, I held it toward her. “I believe this belongs to you.”

Her gaze landed on it, and her expression was one I hadn’t seen before. Nervousness. But she took it with a trembling hand, opening it, her eyes moving over my grandfather’s words. When she’d reached the bottom, she looked up, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Wallace,” she breathed. “You stupid, stubborn fool.” She smiled, though, a tremulous tilting of her lips and slipped the letter into the clutch on her lap.

She stood. “I have something for you too.” She reached into her clutch again and brought out a folded piece of paper. Then she leaned forward, surprising me by kissing me on the cheek. “Welcome to the family, Audra. I’d say, welcome back, but I never truly extended a genuine welcome the first time, did I?”

“Thank you,” I whispered. And with that, Luella Townsend, my former arch-enemy-grandmother, soon-to-be grandmother again, walked out of my hospital room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

I took a moment to digest some of what we’d talked about, but I knew I’d need longer than I had that moment to ponder everything I’d just discovered. The doctor would be in any minute.

I looked at the paper in my hands and slowly unfolded it. It was a professional engineering sketch of the industrial park that I’d first seen the model of in Dane’s office in California. But there had been an addition made to this version. At the entrance to the park was a large sign, flanked by trees and greenery. The sign read: Theodore John Industrial Park.

Underneath in Luella’s handwriting, it said, Named for my first great-grandchild.