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“There’s certainly a feeling of Christmas in the air,” Susannah murmured, reaching into the back seat for her overnight case and a gaily wrapped jar of peach chutney she’d brought along to give to her grandmother. It was an old family custom to bring little gifts when visiting. Then she straightened and inhaled the fragrant scent of wood smoke that hung in the air. “That’s the way life is in Tyler—it’s always like Christmas. Oh, I almost wish I wasn’t going to spend the holidays in the Caribbean!”
“Maybe you can get a refund,” said the same wonderfully masculine voice Susannah had heard on the telephone.
She spun around, fully expecting to come face-to-face with one of her grandmother’s friends—an old man with a cane, perhaps, or loose dentures. A lot of men came to visit Rose Atkins, because she was so lively for her age. Her vigor seemed contagious. But standing in front of Susannah on the snow-encrusted sidewalk was no withered senior citizen with a gleam in his eye. Far from it.
He was tall and lanky, with amazing shoulders, coal-black mischievous eyes full of improper suggestions, plus curly dark hair that tickled his ears and the back of his strong neck. His clothes were rough—a rumpled old parka over jeans, a faded flannel work shirt and heavy boots suitable for hiking the Klondike. The parka was unzipped, revealing a low-slung tool belt worn with the panache of a gunslinger.
“Let me guess,” said Susannah when she could control her vocal cords. “Mr. Busybody Santori?”
His wide mouth quirked into a wry grin. He had a strong Italian face with prominent cheekbones, expressive brows and velvety black eyes that communicated volumes. “Am I going to get a lecture from you, too, Miss Atkins?”
“That would be cruel,” Susannah shot back, smiling. “I bet my grandmother has chewed you up one side and down the other already.”
“I’m still licking my wounds, in fact.”
“She was angry at you for calling me?”
“Furious,” Joe Santori pronounced. “She says I have spoiled your vacation by suggesting you come home, and I’ll never be forgiven.”
“It’s not as bad as that,” Susannah replied, hefting her suitcase out of the car and slamming the door with her other hand. “I’m sure I’ll still be able to catch my plane. I’ll bet she’s mostly angry that you interfered. My grandmother prides herself on her independence.”
“She has a right to be proud.” Joe took her overnight case without asking and slung the strap effortlessly over one shoulder. “But we all need a little help now and then.”
Looking up at him, Susannah doubted that Joe Santori believed his own words. He looked like a man who’d rather die than ask for help for himself. The arrogance that showed plainly in his face was tempered only by his lopsided grin. Obviously, he was perfectly at ease conducting the lives of people around him and felt justified telephoning a complete stranger to come home to check on a sick relative.
But there was something else in Joe Santori’s expression, too—something Susannah felt she could trust. Along with his natural self-confidence, he seemed to radiate honesty. He had a few flecks of gray in his dark hair, and the laugh lines around his eyes also seemed to bespeak a certain amount of tragedy along with amusement. He had an interesting face. A trustworthy face.
“Tell me the truth,” Susannah said, coming directly to the point and knowing she could rely on him. “Is my grandmother really sick?”
Joe shrugged and responded just as bluntly. “I can’t tell. I’ve known her for a couple of years, but only as an acquaintance. I started doing some work on her house earlier this month, and Rose seemed pretty perky then. But now...well, I can’t tell what’s wrong, exactly. Maybe she’s just feeling blue.”
Susannah shook her head, concerned anew. “Not before Christmas. It’s her favorite season. My Granny Rose loves getting ready for parties and...well, everything.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions before you’ve seen her,” Joe cautioned, his voice low and quieting. He put one hand on Susannah’s shoulder to steady her and said with a grin, “Maybe you’ll take one look at your grandmother and decide to belt me for dragging you to Tyler on a wild-goose chase.”
Susannah appreciated his kindness. She didn’t feel like belting him at all.
Joe looked down at Susannah Atkins and couldn’t imagine her belting anyone. She was so small, for starters. On television, she looked average in size, but in person she was quite dainty. Her body was concealed by a flowing, camel-hair coat, belted casually around a slim waist and long enough to show slim ankles encased in trim black boots. But Joe was familiar enough with “Oh, Susannah!,” the popular television show that came on after the noon news every day to know that Miss Susannah Atkins had a body worthy of great admiration.
And while she was pretty on the small screen, Joe hadn’t been prepared for how exquisitely beautiful she was in real life. She had a delicate face with a sharp chin, pointed nose and thickly lashed blue eyes that were deep-set and luminous. Her shoulder-length blond hair was smooth and glossy, pulled back into a raspberry-colored beret that exactly matched the shade of her lipstick. With her quirky little mouth and those expressive blue eyes, she looked darling—just ready for someone to come along and muss her up a little.
With a lilting laugh, she said, “I don’t believe in belting people, Mr. Santori. I leave that to my grandmother. Has she ever told you the story of when she chased off a burglar with a frying pan?”
She was charming, Joe decided. “There are burglars in Tyler?”
“No, it was just a teenage boy trying to sell encyclopedias, but Granny Rose didn’t like the way he seemed to be casing the joint and she decided he was a burglar. Rather than call the police, she chased him for a block, waving a frying pan.” Susannah turned and led the way up the sidewalk to her grandmother’s house, saying, “As it turned out, he was a fraud. Granny Rose investigated the company he worked for and found it was a very shady outfit. Single-handed, she chased them out of the state.”
Joe suspected Susannah was every bit as stubborn as her grandmother. He said, “Rose is independent, all right. I’m glad I don’t have to tangle with her anymore. Maybe you can handle her.”
“She doesn’t need to be ‘handled,’ I’m sure,” Susannah replied.
“Taken care of, then,” Joe corrected.
“No,” she said, mounting the porch steps. “Not that, either. The Atkins women don’t abide people trying to control them. We like our freedom.”
Joe stopped on the top step. “There’s a difference between freedom and plain foolishness. Your grandmother needs supervision, Miss Atkins.”
Susannah paused and turned to face him, lifting one narrow eyebrow as she studied Joe again. “Are you one of those macho fellows who wants to be in charge of everyone, Mr. Santori?”
“Hell, no, but—”
She smiled. “I bet you’re the sole breadwinner in your family, and your word is law at home. Am I right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you’re not used to women like my grandmother. She was the child of an immigrant farmer who built their house with his own two hands, and she worked hard all her life, Mr. Santori. Her husband died when she was still young, and she’s outlasted her children, too, earning a meager livelihood but living a very full life. Don’t think you can come in and start bossing her around now.”
“Listen, Miss Atkins—”
“And you can’t boss me around, either.”
Joe’s comeback was cut off by the sudden opening of the front door, and in another instant, they were joined on the porch by Rose Atkins herself, a feisty old woman in blue jeans and sneakers. She was just as diminutive as her granddaughter, and must have been every bit as beautiful in her day.
“What’s going on out here?” Rose demanded, her blue eyes sparking. “Are you two talking about me?”
“Yes,” Susannah replied at once, kissing her grandmother before saying smoothly, “Mr. Santori tells me you’re furious with him, Granny Rose.”
“I am,” Rose snapped, glowering at Joe and folding her arms over her sweatshirt, which was imprinted with a Far Side cartoon concerning Holstein cows. “He’s poking his nose in things he has no business poking into, and if he’s ruined your vacation, Suzie, I’ll never speak to him again.”
“You have to speak to me,” Joe replied calmly. “I’m not finished fixing up your back porch, and you can’t stop yourself from checking up on me every five minutes.”
“I want the job done right!”
“So you hired the best man to do it!”
“I hired you because you’re the most entertaining carpenter I know, but I didn’t plan on paying you money to butt into my personal affairs.”
“I won’t bill you for butting in.”
Susannah began to laugh. “You two sound like a couple of toddlers who need naps. Granny Rose, I brought you some chutney I made in the fall. Invite Joe inside for a snack and we’ll settle this once and for all.”
Rose looked sulky. “He can come in, I suppose. But we’re not going to talk about me.”
“Well, it’s a start.”
Rose sent Susannah a glance that was suddenly glimmering with purpose. “Maybe we should talk about you.”
“Me?”
“Joe, what do you think of a woman who is so busy being glamorous that she hasn’t time to find a husband and start a family?”
“Granny Rose—!”
“It’s a crying shame,” Joe said, laughing.
“I have spent a lot of time trying to find the right man for my granddaughter, but she’s very fussy, not to mention more disorganized than...” Rose snapped her fingers. “Good heavens! I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.”
“What are you talking about, Granny Rose?”
“You and Joe, of course. Despite some rather obvious superficial differences, I suspect you’d make a perfect couple.”
“A perfect—? Granny Rose!”
“Why, of course! Joe is so bossy and you’re such a fool with keeping track of things that...why, you’re ideal for each other!”
Joe began to laugh at Susannah’s expression—a pink-cheeked, blue-eyed combination of mortification and profound fury. The glamorous television star in her stylish beret looked appalled at the thought of being half a couple with a blue-collar carpenter. She swung on Joe with fire in her eyes, as if blaming him for the sudden turn of events.
Joe was still laughing. “It looks like your grandmother’s not the only one who resents interference, Miss Suzie.”
“I never—I didn’t—”
“Come inside, Joe,” Rose commanded. “I want you to get to know my granddaughter.”
It was a command Joe couldn’t resist. He stepped inside the house on the heels of Susannah Atkins, the most beautiful little hothead he’d ever laid eyes on.
CHAPTER TWO
“I DID NOT COME to Tyler to meet men, Granny Rose.” Susannah stepped inside the house and said vehemently, “I came to see you.”
“Well, you’ve seen me, and I’m fine, so you might as well get to know Joe.” Rose took Susannah’s coat and hung it in the closet.
Susannah suppressed a smile and kept her patience. Rose Atkins had always been a stubborn lady, and old age hadn’t changed that. “I know Joe as much as I care to know him—no insult intended, Mr. Santori—but I’m very concerned about you, Granny Rose.”
Rose kicked off her sneakers, turned on the heel of her woolly white sock and padded back through the downstairs hallway, calling over her shoulder, “No need to be concerned. I’m in tip-top shape. Joe, you can take that bag upstairs—that should keep you out of trouble for a few minutes. The first bedroom on your right. Then meet us in the kitchen for cocoa. Consider it a peace offering. Come along, Suzie.”
Amused and exasperated at the same time, Susannah looked at Joe, who was closing the front door. Tartly, she said to him, “This is starting to look very much like a wild-goose chase. My grandmother seems fine.”
Joe grinned. “Ornery as ever, huh?”
“She’s not ornery, she’s...” Susannah stopped herself. “Come to think of it, Granny Rose isn’t usually ornery.”
Joe jerked his head to indicate the kitchen. “Go talk to her. I’ll hang around upstairs and give you a few minutes together.”
“Thanks,” Susannah said, meaning it. “And, listen, about what my grandmother said—”
“About you and me?” With a laugh, Joe teased, “It’s an intriguing idea, isn’t it, Suzie?”
He had latched onto her nickname rather quickly, Susannah noted, feeling an absurd blush start. Hastily, she said, “Look, I’m not planning to get involved with anyone right now. I’m very busy, you see. I’ve got a lot of irons in the fire.”
“And no time for love? That’s a pretty sad commentary on your life, isn’t it?”
Susannah opened her mouth to protest. Joe sent her another of his dazzling smiles and proceeded up the curved staircase with her suitcase in hand. Susannah swallowed an infuriated growl and stomped after her grandmother.
In the kitchen, Rose was already puttering at the stove with a carton of milk, a wooden spoon and a box of powdered cocoa. She hummed while she worked. “He’s one of the most sought-after men in Tyler, you know.”
Susannah threw her beret on the kitchen table. “Granny Rose, you’re as maddening as ever!”
Laughing, Rose said, “Because I’m in the mood for cocoa? Or because I’d like to fix you up with Joe?”
“You’re always trying to fix me up with somebody or other. Why him, of all people?”
“Why not him?” Rose cried. “Joe is available, good-looking and well respected, plus he’s fun to be around. And he’s a real man—not one of those overgrown boys you see in the city. What more could a woman ask for?”
“A little culture, maybe? I like men who read books, not just use them to fix a wobbly table now and then.”
“Don’t be such a snob.”
“I’m not a snob,” Susannah replied defensively. “I simply know my own taste, that’s all. I like bright men with a certain amount of...of polish, I suppose.”
“Joe has polish.”
“I meant sophistication,” Susannah shot back. “Not something you rub into fine furniture.”
“That was the remark of a snob.”
Susannah slid limply into one of the kitchen chairs. “You’re right. I apologize.” She rubbed her forehead. “You caught me off guard, that’s all. This whole day has caught me off guard, as a matter of fact. I’ve been working very hard lately. I’m supposed to be going on my vacation tomorrow, but I’m more disorganized than ever. I guess I really do need some time off.”
Rose turned and leaned against the stove to look at Susannah, as if ready for one of their patented heart-to-heart talks. For a moment, Susannah felt as if it were twenty years ago, and that she was still a teenager confiding in her grandmother in the privacy of their cozy kitchen. The room was filled with the fragrance of fresh baking, and rows of cookies filled sheets of waxed paper on the counter. The shelves were lined with jars of fruits and jellies that Rose had painstakingly preserved the previous summer. Sheaves of dried herbs and flowers hung from the beams overhead, reminding Susannah that everything she had become—the cooking, decorating, entertaining expert of Milwaukee television—she owed to her grandmother, who long ago had taught Susannah gracious living and the value of hearth and home.
“It feels good to be home,” Susannah said at last.
Rose relaxed and smiled. “It’s good to see you home, dear.”
She padded to Susannah and gave her granddaughter a warm hug and a kiss on the top of the head. “I wish you were home to stay, not running off to some hot beach tomorrow. I’m going to miss you this Christmas.”
With a guilty pang, Susannah held her grandmother’s hand a little longer. “I’ll be back on Christmas Day, Granny Rose. I just won’t be here for all the parties beforehand.”
“Not even for your birthday?”
Susannah’s birthday fell just a week before Christmas and had been the family excuse for a large pre-Christmas gathering ever since Susannah was born. The famous Atkins party was one of the social events of the season for the whole town of Tyler.
“I can’t celebrate with you this year, I’m sorry.” Hearing the wistful note in Rose’s voice caused Susannah’s heart to ache, but she said, “Roger bought the tickets, you see, without remembering my usual plans to be in Tyler for the week before Christmas. I hated to disappoint him, Granny Rose.”
“Why? He disappoints you all the time.” Rose released Susannah’s hand and returned to the stove.
“He doesn’t mean to disappoint me. He’s just forgetful. He’s a busy man.”
“Too busy to be kind?” Rose sent her a short-tempered frown.
“I won’t defend Roger today,” Susannah said patiently, having endured Rose’s low opinion of Roger Selby for a long time. “Roger and I understand each other, and that’s what matters. Subject closed. I’d rather hear about you.”
“I’m fine,” Rose said at once, spooning cocoa into a saucepan full of milk.
“Joe says—”
“Oh, what does Joe know? I had a little episode, that’s all.”
“An episode?” Susannah echoed. “That sounds like a euphemism for something very bad.”
“It wasn’t.” Rose shook a dash of cinnamon into the warming milk and reached for the bottle of vanilla from the open shelf over her head. “I just...I didn’t feel well for a couple of hours. Maybe it was the flu.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“I felt light-headed. Then, I...well, all right, I admit I blacked out.”
“Good heavens! That’s more than the flu!”
“Joe was here,” Rose said hastily. “So I wasn’t alone. It hasn’t happened again. I’m fine now.”
Her concern heightened, Susannah asked, “But what caused it? Have you been taking your blood-pressure medicine?”
Rose flipped her hand. “Off and on. When I need it.”
“Granny Rose!” Truly angry, Susannah rapped the table with her knuckles. “You’re supposed to take that medication regularly! It’s not something you pop into your system now and then—”
“I’ve been feeling well without it.”
“When was the last time you saw your doctor?”
“I have an appointment scheduled in January.”
“That’s not answering my question. When was the last time?”
Rose didn’t respond, pretending to concentrate on the seemingly intricate task of stirring hot cocoa with the long-handled spoon. Frustrated, Susannah leaned forward on her elbows, trying to think of a way to force her grandmother to take care of herself. It seemed very odd, though, for Rose had been Susannah’s parent for most of her life. To reverse roles and become her grandmother’s caretaker felt...well, presumptuous. Until now, Rose had been perfectly capable of taking care of herself. What right did Susannah have to march in and take over?
“Look,” Susannah said, endeavoring to keep her voice steady, “it’s not my place to order you around. You’re a grown woman with common sense, and you know you should take your medicine and see your doctor regularly. But for some reason you’re not taking care of yourself, Granny Rose. That upsets me.”
Impatiently, Rose said, “I promise to see Dr. Phelps after Christmas.”
“Why not immediately? I’m sure he’d squeeze you into his schedule right this minute if—”
“I don’t need to see him now.”
“But if—”
“I’m fine, and that’s final! Go on your vacation and have a wonderful time, Susannah. After Christmas, you can come see Dr. Phelps with me, if you’re still upset. But I’m not going to budge until then, do you hear me? I’m fine!”
Susannah glared at her grandmother’s turned back. “Granny Rose, are you afraid you’ll spoil my silly vacation if you’re sick?”
Rose was saved from answering that question. A thump sounded on the stairs, and a lofty baritone voice carried to the women in the kitchen, singing, “‘Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o’er the plain....”’
Then Joe appeared, filling the kitchen doorway with his tall frame and broad shoulders. His gaze traveled swiftly to Susannah, and he lifted his brows as if to ask how everything was going. Susannah frowned and shook her head.
Rose turned from the stove. “You don’t look much like an angel, Joe, but you can sing like one. Want a cookie?”
“As many as you can spare,” he said cheerfully.
“Sit down, then. This cocoa is almost ready.”
“Smells great.”
Joe eased his body into the wooden chair opposite Susannah’s, and he continued to watch her face while Rose’s back was turned. “So,” he said, “you two get everything worked out?”
“Yes,” said Rose.
“No,” said Susannah dourly.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Joe responded, reaching a long arm to snatch a cookie off the nearby countertop. “Détente, right?”
“The matter is closed,” Rose said with authority. “Now we’re free to talk about you two.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Granny Rose.” Susannah glowered at Joe, who grinned back at her before taking a sizable chomp out of his cookie. “Nothing whatever.”
“There certainly is, dear. Given a chance, you and Joe might really hit it off.”
To Joe, Susannah said, “She’s just doing this so we’ll leave her alone about her health. I don’t know why she feels she needs to matchmake for me. I’m very busy in Milwaukee.”
“Not the right kind of busy,” Rose said. “Have you ever seen her show, Joe? It’s really wonderful. Last week, Suzie showed how to make Christmas wreaths out of corn husks, how to roast a goose with sage leaves stuffed under the skin and how to make cranberry preserves in crystal glasses to give to your friends. Trouble is, Suzie’s apartment has a front door hardly big enough to hang a wreath, she’d never roast a goose for herself alone, and I’ll bet her friends in the city would rather eat caviar than cranberry preserves.”
“There’s no man in your life?” Joe asked bluntly, polishing off the first cookie and reaching for another.
“No. Yes.” Exasperated, Susannah said, “I have a gentleman friend whom I see regularly.”
“You ‘see’ him?” Joe inquired. “What does that mean exactly?”
“He’s her boss,” Rose supplied. “The station manager. It’s not exactly a hot love affair.”
“It’s comfortable,” Susannah retorted. “Roger and I don’t have time to develop a serious relationship with anyone, so we...well, we’re happy associating with each other. Dinner now and then—that sort of thing. Now could we please get back to the subject at hand—”
“They’re going on vacation together,” Rose added for Joe’s benefit, disregarding Susannah’s attempt to terminate the discussion. “But they’re going to plan the next six months’ worth of ‘Oh, Susannah!’ shows together. Can you imagine going to the beach to work?”
“No,” Joe said promptly. “But then, I hate the beach. I’d much rather go hiking in the snow. What do you want to go to the beach for? You’ll just get sunburned and sweaty.”
“I like the ocean.”
“It’s too hot.”
“It’s beautiful!”
“It’s boring.”
“How could anyone be bored at the beach?” Susannah demanded. “It’s so overwhelming and awe-inspiring—”
“I don’t go on vacations to be overwhelmed.”
“No,” Susannah said, studying him cryptically. “I don’t suppose a guy like you is ever overwhelmed.”
From the stove, Rose interrupted. “I hope you like marshmallows, Joe. I don’t trust a man who won’t eat marshmallows.”
“I love ’em,” Keeping his lazy-eyed grin trained on Susannah, he said, “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”
“But that’s your only weakness, right?” Susannah asked softly. She felt uncomfortably warm under Joe’s penetrating gaze.
He laughed. “How’d you guess?”
“Just a shot in the dark.”
“You think I’m a legend in my own mind?”
“If the shoe fits...”
Joe leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and staring straight into Susannah’s eyes. “And you,” he said distinctly, “are so caught up in your big-city career that you wouldn’t recognize a real man if you ran into one in a dark alley.”