Eileen Berger - A Family For Andi

A sparkling luxury sedan, a minivan, and two compact models were displayed in the spotless room. Good setup, she decided, walking between two of them. The rear door on the left swung open and a tall, brown-eyed man in tan, grease-smeared coveralls came toward her, wiping his hands with a towel. “I’m Keith. How can I help you?”

This couldn’t be her cousin, could it? That Keith was supposed to be an engineer. “My car, that blue hatchback out there—” pointing “—has been making a strange noise, and I thought…” Her voice trailed off.

“How long has it been doing that?”

“Not very long. And I realize it’s late.”

He nodded. “Especially for a Saturday.”

She tried to sound concerned; he must not suspect this to be what she wanted to hear. “I hesitated to drive much farther, the way it sounds.”

He listened with a thoughtful expression. An attractive thoughtful expression, Andi decided. “You’re right, but there’s no way it can be looked at today. There’s only one mechanic here this late, and he’s finishing up an emergency job. I know he’s got to get home.”

“What about you?” Why did I ask that? she wondered. I don’t want anyone doing it today!

“Sorry. I have a date in Dalton for—” a quick glance at the wall clock “—an hour from now. I can’t be late.”

“Oh.” He didn’t look apologetic, and she told herself that her momentary feeling of being a little sorry that he had a date was sheer foolishness. But he was incredibly handsome and had such a warm, friendly smile. “Well, is there anywhere nearby where I might stay till it’s taken care of?”

“That I can help with.” His warm hand under her bare elbow steered her toward the window. “See that big white house across the street, three doors down, with the big front porch? That’s my grandmother’s, and she rents rooms—though her sign’s too small to read from here, isn’t it?”

So Keith is my cousin, she thought. “It looks nice.” ‘Nice’ was such a weak word, but she couldn’t let him know how much more this was than she’d feared.

“If you’d like, I can walk over with you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

After stepping back into the garage to explain about the car parked in the lot, Keith walked Andi to her car, where they collected the worn suitcase and garment bag she’d brought. “And you want your laptop, don’t you?” he asked, lifting the leather case.

“Yes, please.” She handed him the keys for the car before locking the doors. “I’d better introduce myself, since you’re taking me to meet your grandmother. I’m Anne Marker—and generally answer to ‘Annie.’” That’s close enough to ‘Andi Barker’ that I should respond when spoken to, she told herself.

“Pleased to meet you, Annie Marker. I’m Keith McHenry, son of the founder and owner of McHenry Auto.”

“Hello.” Their shared smiles made up for the lack of a handshake. “You work here with your father?”

“I used to, some, while going to school—but now it’s just to bring in my own vehicles and service them. Actually, I’m an engineer with a design group in Dalton.”

She stopped on the sidewalk, and he turned to look at her. “Were you finished? I shouldn’t take you away if you have to go somewhere.”

“You worry too much, Annie,” he said lightly. “You came at the right time. I’m about to go home and clean up.”

Better timing than you can imagine! she thought. As they crossed the street, several people in cars tooted or waved. “You’re a popular guy, Keith. You seem to know everyone in town,” Andi remarked.

His chuckle was deep-throated. “I do. But I think they’re all making such a racket because they’re not accustomed to seeing me with such a gorgeous woman.”

He probably thought she was flirting, she realized. She concentrated on not stumbling over several slabs of concrete sidewalk heaved by roots of the big old maples. “Does your grandmother have many guests staying with her?”

“Not anymore, not since several motels opened around here.”

They went up four steps to the wide, painted porch with a big wood-slat swing on the left and scattered comfortable-looking wooden rockers. Setting down the suitcase, he pulled open the screen door. “Gra am, it’s Keith. Someone’s here to see you!”

“I’ll be right down, dear.” The voice sounded young and enthusiastic—not exactly what Andi expected of the woman she knew to be 75 years old.

He propped the door open with his knee and picked up the luggage, tilting his head to motion Andi in first. With the garment bag draped over her arm, she stepped inside the very large hallway as a slender, graying woman wearing denim shorts and a sleeveless knit top came running down the wide walnut staircase to greet her grandson with a hug and kiss.

He returned the embrace with no embarrassment. “Gram, this is Annie Marker, who has a problem. Annie, meet MaryJean McHenry, who’s the probable solver of it.”

They all started speaking at once, Keith explaining Andi’s need for a place to stay, Gram “hoping to live up to expectations,” and Andi, smiling at her own honesty in stating, “This does appear to be perfect.”

“What a babble, all of us together!” Mrs. Mc-Henry exclaimed. “But yes, I can help—if you find the accommodations satisfactory.”

Refraining from saying that anything that made it possible for her to stay here would be satisfactory, Andi simply nodded when invited to see the rooms.

They passed oversize doorways to two impressive rooms on either side of the downstairs hall—which itself could be an extra-large room in most houses. Even with massive pieces of excellent old furniture, there was much open space.

As the women started up, Keith offered, “Call if you decide to stay, Annie, and I’ll bring your things.”

Turning on the bottom step, she looked directly into his eyes. So, since she was five-eight, that would make him well over six feet. “I know you’re in a hurry and I’m sure I’ll like the room, so we can take them now.” But then she almost wished that he wasn’t right behind her, for he’d surely notice her slightly uneven gait.

He followed them up to the landing, then the six additional steps to another hallway as wide as the lower one. Here, also, were walnut or mahogany chests, a glass-fronted bookcase, and a huge, curvetopped armoire.

Mrs. McHenry crossed to the first room on the left, which had old-fashioned wallpaper delicately patterned with violet nosegays, trellises and ivy vines. The bed’s high, carved headboard and the other furniture could have been museum pieces, and the wellworn oriental rug made Andi want to kick off her sandals and relax. “It’s beautiful, Mrs. McHenry. I’ll be more than comfortable here.”

“Come see the other rooms. You might like one of them better.”

They checked the even larger north front corner room. A quilt-covered white-iron daybed stood along one wall, in addition to furniture comparable to that in the first.

The large bathroom had obviously been constructed from unused space at the front of the hallway. Its white, claw-foot tub and pedestal washbowl were like some she’d seen in magazines, probably the same fixtures bought when the house was “modernized” eons ago with indoor plumbing.

“This will be yours to use—if you stay.”

“I do want to.”

“Well, look at this, too—The Violet Room.” And she opened the door of the other front corner one. There was no need to ask why she’d called it that. Violets were rampant on the wallpaper; there was a violet pattern around the edge of the large carpet; violet-decorated bedspreads adorned both double beds; and there were even violet-patterned vases!