She snorted, and he couldn’t suppress a grin.
He’d never confided to her the details of his life in the military, but undoubtedly she’d filled in the blanks on her own, wise woman that she was. No point in denying it. He’d sowed his share of wild oats.
And then some.
Wasn’t proud of it. But what was done was done and now in the past.
He changed the subject. “Do you want to go to the Memorial Day parade on Monday? I’d be happy to take you.”
He didn’t much care for parades himself, but he’d dress like a clown and stand on his head in the middle of it if that would make Grandma Mae happy.
“I’d like that.”
“Then it’s a plan. So, Gran, what’d you do today?” He sliced another potato—with less gusto this time.
“Peggy came by and set my hair.” She patted her curlers. “Then I watched a little TV. Did some reading.”
He had reading to do, too, if what was in the box sitting on his bed was what he thought it was. Grandma had been at him to join the men’s summer group at Canyon Springs Christian Church. But he’d taken one look at the syllabi posted in the fellowship hall a few Sundays ago and decided it wasn’t for him.
Not that he couldn’t use some help in the God department, but a big chunk of it focused on how to be the head of a household. A husband. A parent. He’d feel out of place among all those married guys. Dads. Grandpas. He didn’t put much stock in what others thought about him, good or bad. But this was different. He’d look downright silly to them. Green as grass.
It was stuff he needed to know, though, if he was going to be the kind of man he should have become a long time ago. All the stuff Keith kept telling him—and he hadn’t listened. Blew him off. But going to the men’s study would be like a rookie recruit marching out with a bunch of battle-hardened, heavily equipped veterans—without guns and gear. In skivvies even.
There was nothing to stop him, though, from ordering online the CDs and workbook they were using. So that’s what he’d done. Ordered a volume on Arizona history, too, just in case Grandma asked what was in the box.
Yeah, he had a lot of catching up to do. But he didn’t want to think about why, since his encounter with Sandi yesterday, that it seemed more urgent than before.
Sandi would give just about anything not to have to make this call.
But all too often doing the dirty work was synonymous to her role as the president of the historical society. Right now calling Bryce Harding fell into that category. Why’d the electricity have to go out tonight? Just when she’d slipped in to catch up on work? But with the museum set to be open Saturday and Monday, she didn’t dare hope the situation would resolve itself. Since Mae’s grandson seemed to be sticking his nose in museum business now, she’d let him deal with it.
She speed-dialed Mae’s number on her cell phone. Had the power gone out upstairs, too? She glanced around the darkened room of the old stone house which sat a block off Main Street, surrounded by trees. At nine o’clock and with leafed-out bushes and bristly pines snuggled in close, hardly any light came in from the street. She gave an involuntary shudder.
It was creepy here at night.
In the dark.
Alone.
“Hello?”
Startled when the phone picked up on the first ring and a familiar masculine voice responded, she steadied herself by launching in with her most businesslike tone. “This is Sandi Bradshaw. I’m downstairs at the museum. The power is out, although it looks like the neighbors still have lights. Do you?”
“Yeah. You probably blew a fuse down there.”
She waited expectantly, but he didn’t offer a solution.
“Is that something you can do something about? I have work to do here tonight and the museum will be open tomorrow.”
He paused as if debating her request, then it seemed he’d covered the mouthpiece with his hand for she could hear indistinguishable words in his rumbling voice. Probably consulting with Mae. When he returned he seemed to speak with reluctance. “Grandma has extra fuses. Hang on.”
The phone went dead.
She crammed it back into her purse. No wonder he’d long infuriated LeAnne, why she was so adamant about daughter and daughter-in-law giving him wide berth. How had her charming husband gotten along so well with him since childhood? She had no choice, though, but to wait for Bryce to ride to the rescue.
When at last she heard him on the porch at the rear of the house, she stubbed a sandaled toe on a chair as she made her way through the outdated kitchen that the historical society still used on occasion. By the time she got to the door, he’d already used his key and let himself in.
He had a flashlight, one of those sturdy man-type ones that could sit on the floor and direct a beam with a tilt-type head. It illuminated the room, throwing a massive shadow of his broad-shouldered body to the wall behind him.
“Thanks for coming.”
He nodded, then moved past her. Shining the light around the room, he flipped a wall switch. The room remained dark.
She refrained from a smug I-told-you-so.
He wordlessly glanced in her direction as if reading her mind, then maneuvered around the table and headed to the front of the house. She followed, relieved to have another human being in the darkened building even if that person had to be Bryce. Didn’t hurt either that he looked as if he could take on anything that might spring out of the shadows at them.
He halted and turned, looking surprised to see her tailgating so closely. “What are you working on that can’t wait until tomorrow?”
Meaning, why did he have to get out of his cushy recliner and surrender the TV remote to Grandma so he could do this right this very minute?
“I’m inventorying a donation of photographs that came in this week. Early days of Canyon Springs. Perfect timing since my daughter is celebrating a birthday with friends tonight.”
His brow wrinkled. “But it’s not her birthday, right? That’s in April.”
He remembered that?
“Right.”
He nodded at her confirmation and moved into the main room of the museum. Flipped another switch.
Got a clue now, Sergeant?
Maneuvering around her, he headed back through the kitchen to an adjacent room that once served as a pantry. Now it housed a hodgepodge of boxes containing the town’s memorabilia and office supplies. She stood in the doorway, acutely aware of the diminutive dimensions of the space as he set the flashlight on a shelf. Then with a long-suffering look in her direction, Bryce lifted down from the wall a gingham-decorated bulletin board to reveal a metal panel. Fuse box. What did he expect? She couldn’t leave that ugly gray thing protruding like that.
She returned to the front room to allow him to do whatever he needed to do in peace. Rummaging through her purse with a lighted key chain, she found the red, spiral notebook that contained her checklist. Perfect. If he intended to raise the rent, she may as well negotiate more bang for the buck.
A few minutes later, blinding light flooded the room from the overhead fixture. While her eyes were still adjusting to the abrupt contrast, he joined her.
“Wow. Thanks. You’re a pretty handy guy to have around.”
Now why’d she say something stupid like that? Sounded almost like flirting. She didn’t flirt. Hadn’t since Keith. Wasn’t going to start now.
Bryce gave her an assessing look. “It appears you’re