Glynna Kaye - At Home in His Heart

“Mae!” a familiar female voice cried out, and he glimpsed Sandi worming her way through the crowd to his grandma’s side. “Oh, thank goodness, a familiar face at last. Have you seen Gina? I’ve been looking all over—”

“Hi, Mommy! I’m up here with Uncle Bryce.”

Uncle Bryce?

He turned to catch the displeasure on the face of the pretty, sun-hatted woman. She looked torn, as if wanting to order him to unhand her daughter but mindful of the prime parade-viewing spot the little latecomer managed to nab.

He almost laughed but thought better of it. “Take it easy, Sandi. I told her Keith and I were like brothers. That’s why—”

“I see.” She tilted her head to look at him with that appealing little mannerism. Was she even aware of it? Know how engaging it was? Especially to a guy who hadn’t gone near an attractive single woman in three years.

But no way was he touching Sandi Bradshaw with a proverbial ten-foot pole. He might be a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

He did laugh then, and he didn’t care when she frowned.

Still smiling, he turned himself and Gina back to the parade just as the historical society’s contribution to the day rolled by, a festively decorated buggy pulled by a flashy chestnut. A placard on the back announced the museum’s open-for-business holiday hours.

His smile faded. No doubt the economy had played a hand in the downturn in the historical society’s finances just as it had for almost every other business in town. But Grandma had given them a too-generous deal that they’d taken advantage of for far too long. Had he been aware of it years earlier, he’d have called a halt to it then, not waited until circumstances dictated a significant dollar increase all at one time. Even then, the escalation likely wouldn’t be sufficient for what he needed to do.

Then what?

He shoved uneasy thoughts aside to pat Gina’s leg and point out the miniature ponies coming along the parade route. Thirty minutes later, with the last tractor-pulled float rolling out of sight, he turned just as Sandi took a call on her cell phone.

She glanced in his direction and, catching his eye, turned slightly away. “What’s up, Fay?”

She listened intently as Gina drummed a light rhythm on the top of his head.

“I’m thrilled for you,” she assured the caller, but she didn’t sound convincing to him. “Of course. No, go and have a great time. Don’t worry about it.”

She dropped her head in resignation for a moment, then took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and stuffed the phone back in her purse. “Let’s get going, Gina. Change in plans. We have to cover at the museum this morning, too.”

Little fingers stopped their drumming. “But you promised.”

“I know I did, sweetheart, but this can’t be helped.” She looked to Grandma Mae. “Fay just got asked to spend the day with an out-of-town guy she’s been dying to date. And earlier this morning Wanda called to say that her daughter’s family arrived unexpectedly late last night. What could I say?”

Grandma Mae patted her hand. “You’re too softhearted, Sandi.”

The pretty blonde grimaced.

Gina wiggled atop his shoulders. “Can’t we go to the petting zoo first, Mommy? Please?”

“There’s not enough time. We’re going to be late opening the museum as it is.”

“But Mommy—”

“We can take her, can’t we, Bryce?” Grandma smiled up at him. “I haven’t been to a petting zoo in years.”

Gina clapped her hands as he lowered her to the ground. “Can they take me, Mommy?”

“Well…” She cast him an uncertain glance. Conscious of Grandma’s enthusiasm, he didn’t shake his head, but he probably had “no” written all over his face. With any luck, she’d take the hint.

Grandma all but glowed. “We’d love to take her.”

There was that we stuff again.

With a squeal, the kid grasped his hand with both of hers, holding on for dear life as she danced in place, little pink lights on her tennis shoes flashing with every step. Somebody had already consumed way too much sugar this morning.

This isn’t a good idea, Grandma.

“That’s sweet of you, Mae.” Sandi glanced at him again—apparently not sold on the idea of leaving her kid in his care—then back at Grandma. “But only if you’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“We were going to spend most of the day together,” Sandi continued with a regretful smile in the direction of her still-dancing daughter. “But now I’m stuck with every single one of the scheduled museum slots.”

He shifted his weight, primed to step in if she started complaining about the rent increase in front of Grandma. About how she had to give up her holiday with her kid to bring in more money to cover it.

“Then it’s settled.” Grandma beamed from Sandi, to Gina, to him.

With another squeal the little girl hugged his leg. “Come on, Uncle Bryce. Let’s roll!”

Conscious of her eyes on him, he met the troubled gaze of the too-pretty-for- his -own-good young mother. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something more.

Instead she turned to Grandma, that too-appealing mouth ever so slowly curving into a grateful smile. One that grabbed him by the throat tighter than the grip her kid had on his hand.

He took a steadying breath.

No, Grandma, this isn’t a good idea.

“Your husband was a handsome man,” one of the women from Utah said, nodding to the photograph of a uniformed Keith adorning the local veterans display at the Canyon Springs Historical Museum.

“He was a good one, too.” While bittersweet, Sandi always enjoyed pointing out the photos and memorabilia of men and women who’d served in the armed forces. Each time it renewed her determination that the exhibit would be significantly expanded—and dedicated to Keith Bradshaw.

His mother would be so surprised.

And so proud.

She’d finally realize her daughter-in-law had been worthy of her youngest son.

“Don’t know what this world would do without men and women willing to make a supreme sacrifice for others,” a second woman said softly. “And thank you for answering our questions about the area. I’m still amazed that this oasis of cool pines exists in Arizona. I had no idea.”

When they’d departed, the last visitors of the day, Sandi locked the front door then headed to the rolltop desk and pulled out a cash box. At a two-dollar donation per visitor, a “take” for the day of fifty-four dollars might seem, to some, time not well spent. Holiday-goers must have wanted to be outdoors enjoying the weather, just as a number of historical society members who’d declined to assist today had pointed out. But every bit helped keep the museum afloat, so she wouldn’t beat herself up about it.

She slipped the cash into a small plastic bag and stuffed it in her purse for a Tuesday bank deposit, then paused to let her gaze travel around the museum’s main room. Originally a living room when Bryce’s grandparents first moved there, it was now packed with mementos of Canyon Springs’s past. Her eyes lingered on the veterans display in the corner.

On Keith’s photo.

I’m going to make you and your mom proud. I promise.

“Come on, Gina,” she called as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “Gather your things and let’s get out of here.”

When Mae had returned with Gina after lunch—also bringing Sandi a still-warm gyro from a street vendor—she’d settled her daughter in the kitchen with books, games and crayons.

How she hated being in Bryce’s debt for helping her make up for the lost mom-and-daughter day. But when Mae offered to brighten Gina’s morning, how could she refuse? Even with that big boulder of a guy almost glowering at her, she couldn’t decline the offer. It was clear he thought she’d try to make his grandma feel bad about raising the museum rent, but he needn’t have worried about that. She knew who the guilty party was—and it wasn’t Mae.