The Trouble with Angels (Angels Everywhere #2)(26)

"No one’s going to hurt you,” he told her. "Not anymore.”

Maureen nearly laughed out loud. Apparently Thom hadn’t gotten the message. All at once there were tears in her eyes. She couldn’t remember thinking she was about to break into tears. She knew she should leave before she embarrassed herself any further. How she managed to keep them from falling and from making a complete idiot of herself was something she couldn’t answer.

"I’d better go now,” she said, abruptly setting her mug aside. "Thanks for the coffee,” she muttered on her way out the door.

The instant she was alone, she pressed both index fingers under her eyes and drew in several deep, stabilizing breaths.

Maybe she was coming down with a virus, she reasoned. Crazy as it seemed, she prayed that was exactly what was happening to her.

She made it back to her car just in time for Karen to come racing from the corral.

"Mom, guess what?”

"What, sweetheart?”

"I learned all about saddles and stirrups and blankets, and I learned about the different brands used. Ken calls it cowboy calligraphy.” She stopped long enough to draw in a deep breath before starting again. Maureen swore her daughter talked nonstop for another five minutes, mentioning in detail everything she’d learned until she was nearly panting.

"And guess what else?”

"I can’t imagine,” Maureen said, struggling to hold in a smile.

"Paula said I could have a kitten if it’s all right with you, and…”

"A kitten,” Maureen mumbled. Good grief, she should have seen that coming. "I’ll think about it,” she promised, and for now that was the best she could do. Actually she wouldn’t mind a pet, but she’d need to read over her lease first.

"Oh, and one thing more,” Karen said, so excited she could barely hold still. "I asked Paula to spend Friday night with us, that’s all right, isn’t it? She’s asking her dad now.”

Coward that she was, Maureen was about to usher her daughter into the car and make a clean getaway when Thom’s daughter raced out of the barn. Thom was directly behind her. Maureen was certain his grin stretched from one ear to the other.

"I understand Karen’s invited Paula to spend Friday night,” he said with a glint in his eye. "I have a great idea. Why don’t I treat the four of us to western-style barbecue first? We’ll pick you up around six, all right?”

"Oh, Mom,” Karen said, gazing up at her mother hopefully. "Dinner in a restaurant? Can we? Oh, please, it would be so much fun.”

"Ah…” Maureen wasn’t sure what to do.

"Please,” Thom coaxed, and leveled one of his daredevil smiles on her.

"Ted!” Catherine set aside her magazine, delighted to see her grandson, especially when she wasn’t expecting him. "How nice of you to drop by.”

Ted gave her a warm peck on the cheek and sat down next to her in the parlor, which was the social gathering place for the retirement center. "I should have let you know I was stopping by.”

"Nonsense.” Catherine had given a good deal of thought to her meeting with Blythe Holmes and was beginning to think she might have overreacted. She was an old woman, set in her ways, and it was only natural that she feel a certain amount of—she hated to use this word—resentment toward the woman who’d be marrying her precious grandson.

Ted scanned the area as though looking for someone. "Do you happen to know a woman named Joy Palmer?”

"But of course.”

"I need to talk to her.”

Catherine’s spirits lifted automatically. "You need to speak to Joy?”

"You might say we had a minor run-in the other night, and I wanted to reassure her everything’s fine. She doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

"Run-in?”

"It’s nothing, Grandma,” Ted said, and patted her hand. "Before I look for Joy, tell me what’s been going on with you.”

"Well, the library committee met, and we’ve decided to hold a literary tea in order to raise money for a number of very good projects.”

"When will that be?”

"A few days before Christmas,” Catherine told him, but again she had the impression his mind wasn’t on their conversation. She patted his hand. "I think Joy must be in her office,” she whispered conspiratorially. "It’s the first door to the left, off the hallway.”

Ted grinned and squeezed her hand. "I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

"Take your time,” Catherine said as she reached for her magazine once more. "I insist. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Catherine watched her grandson leave and couldn’t help wondering about that gleam in his eyes. It had been a good long time since she’d seen it. He was up to something. She’d stake a batch of chocolate-chip cookies on that.

Ted didn’t understand why he felt it necessary to personally relay to Joy the information about Blythe’s car. His grandmother would have been happy to give her the message. The thing was, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Joy Palmer since their little run-in.

She wasn’t his type. That was a definite. He liked his women a little more sophisticated, a little more glamorous, a little more…like Blythe, he decided.