Glynna Kaye - Claiming The Single Mom's Heart

He studied her for a long moment, as if hesitant to turn loose the illustrations. “Maybe I should speak with them personally. Deal with their concerns. I can rearrange my schedule.”

Grady Hunter in attendance? Not a good idea.

“Thank you, but as the saying goes, a picture paints a thousand words.” She didn’t want the more contentious members haranguing Grady if he were there in person.

Unquestionably, the growing artists’ community needed to be fairly represented in local government and she’d committed to being their voice. But they didn’t need to further turn the longtime residents of Hunter Ridge against them with unreasonable demands. “I’ll take responsibility for the prints and won’t allow anyone to photograph or otherwise copy them.”

“I have your word on that?” A half smile surfaced, as if recognizing his wasn’t a trusting nature any more than hers was.

“You do. And I’ll return the printouts as soon as possible.” It was a good excuse to come back to Hunter’s Hideaway. Maybe she could take a closer look at the old photographs in the hallway—and the ones in his office, as well.

He studied her a moment longer, as though trying to convince himself of her trustworthiness, and her face warmed under his scrutiny. Then abruptly he reached over to the laptop to press the print key for each of the illustrations he’d shown her. Straightening again, he gave her a challenging look. “Since I have your word...”

He moved to stand over a credenza, where a printer whirred its output, then removed the pages from the tray. Frowning, he held them aloft. “Looks as though it needs a new black ink cartridge. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As he headed into the hallway, she confirmed Tessa was occupied, then approached a grouping of framed photographs that had caught her eye. Were the faces of her ancestors captured here? If only she had time to scrutinize them. If only...

She darted a look toward the door and, before she could stop herself, she whipped out her cell phone from her jacket pocket.

But as she raised it, zoomed in on one of the old photos, she paused. She’d given her word not to copy the building illustrations, the implication clear that she’d not use them in any way against Grady’s family. Would capturing the old photographs in an attempt to find something that she could use against the Hunters be breaking that vow?

A muscle in her throat tightened.

Grady would be back any moment. Yes, as he’d pointed out, the photos might not have any connection to his family. But who knew when she’d again have an opportunity to examine evidence that might provide substance to her grandmother’s tale?

It was now or never.

Aligning the camera lens once more, she glanced toward her daughter concentrating on the coloring book in her lap. Her daughter in whom she intended to instill the hallmarks of good character, determined that she wouldn’t follow in her father’s footsteps.

With a soft sigh and a lingering look at the photos, she pocketed her phone—just as Grady strode back into the room.

* * *

“How did it go?” Grandma Jo’s voice came from behind him where he stood on the front porch, watching as Sunshine’s SUV backed out of a parking spot.

Cutting off his apprehensive thoughts, Grady responded. “She agreed that the store design is, in her words, ‘tastefully done.’ So I don’t think Mom will get pushback from her during the election.”

“Excellent. Well done, Grady.”

His heart swelled at the praise, something Grandma Jo didn’t lavish unless merited. Sunshine had been cooperative, but what about the other Co-op members who’d view the renderings? He should have insisted that if the printouts went to the meeting, he be part of the package, too. But those dark, appealing eyes, the soft coaxing voice, had won him over.

Hadn’t he learned his lesson six years ago?

“Ms. Carston doesn’t stand a chance against your mother.” Grandma’s tone brooked no argument. “While the artists she represents will rally, there aren’t enough to swing a vote.”

“Garrett says she’s not concentrating exclusively on the artist community.” His pastor cousin was often privy to behind-the-scenes rumblings—aka gossip. “She’s digging deep to learn what others might like to see change in Hunter Ridge and promising to represent their viewpoint, as well.”

“I’m not concerned.” Grandma Jo’s chin lifted. “We’ve had Hunters on the town council since its beginnings.”

“True.” Aunts, uncles, cousins. One day, if he couldn’t run fast enough, he’d probably get lassoed into the role, too. But hopefully that was a long way off—if ever. He had too many other things he hoped to accomplish and no taste for politics.

“Again, Grady, good job.” Grandma Jo patted his arm. “We can always count on you.”

She returned inside and he restlessly stepped off the porch. Grandma was a straight shooter who wasn’t afraid to look you in the eye and give you her honest opinion. He’d gotten a no-holds-barred appraisal from her six years ago. She was giving him her equally honest opinion now.

She trusted him.

But, as she’d reminded him that long ago day when things had fallen apart with Jasmine, a reputation once shattered might be patched together—but people would forever be on the lookout for cracks.

There would be no cracks on his watch.

Nevertheless, why hadn’t he confessed to Grandma Jo that he’d sent Sunshine off into the world with photocopies of their latest business endeavor?

Chapter Three

“Things could have been worse,” Sunshine admitted to Tori as she closed the apartment door behind her Wednesday night. “Nobody stoned me, although I did see Gideon eyeing a molded concrete owl used as a doorstop in the public library’s conference room.”

More than once, though, she’d wished for the calming presence of Co-op member Benton Mason, her loyal supporter on about any stance she took. But he was working at his part-time maintenance job at Hunter’s Hideaway tonight.

Tori set aside the book she’d been reading, her gaze sympathetic. “How was the turnout?”

“Good. About seventeen. Eighteen, maybe.” She moved into the open area that served as a dining/living room to put a folder of meeting notes and Grady’s printouts on a flat-topped trunk. Then she dropped into a chair opposite where Tori was seated on the sofa and proceeded to rummage through her fringed leather purse. “You haven’t seen a sparkly turquoise pen wandering around here have you? I went to pull it out tonight and it was gone.”

“No. That’s the one your father gave you for high school graduation, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Graduation had been one of the few milestones in her life that Gordon Haynes had remembered to acknowledge. Her wedding and the birth of Tessa had escaped his radar. She sighed and set aside her purse, determined to look for the sentimental item later. Then she glanced at the closed door leading to Tessa’s bedroom. “Did you have any trouble getting her to bed?”

“Not too much, although at first she insisted on waiting for you to get home. She wanted to make sure you didn’t get locked out. I told her I’d make sure.”

“I don’t know what’s made her so anxious these past few weeks. It started shortly before school started.”

“Even kindergarten can be demanding. Schools expect a lot out of kids these days.”

“I suppose. But at least this district seems to focus on the basics, on getting the kids grounded academically. I guess we’ll wait and see how many times she comes to get me tonight.” With a sigh, Sunshine scooted forward to adjust a throw pillow behind her back, then settled in once again.

“Thanks again, Tori, for helping out with her. With the gallery and all the behind-the-scenes business that goes with it, I haven’t had as much time as I’d like to meet with potential voters outside the arts community. You know, to find out what their vision is for Hunter Ridge. Although I might edge out Irvin Baydlin, I know the likelihood of beating Elaine Hunter is slim. But I don’t stand a chance with either of them if I can’t convince others that I can adequately represent them, too.”