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  “Can’t believe this is the last day of the Apple Festival.” Gloria stretched out in her chair and stared at her computer. This was the first time in weeks she had nothing to do.

  “Thank God. Now things can get back to normal around here.” Wanda was a stickler for routine.

  “All the work orders are filled. I’ve got time on my hands.” Gloria rose from her desk and walked over to the disheveled shelves that marked the boundary of Wanda’s work space. “Want me to do anything? Maybe straighten these up?”

  “Sure, knock yourself out. Might as well get familiar with the rest of the business. Since it’s gonna be yours.”

  “Wanda, don’t start. I haven’t committed to anything. I’m still thinking it over.”

  “Eighty thousand’s a bargain, considering you get the building too.”

  Gloria pulled old manuals off the shelves and noticed some were for equipment they no longer had. “Don’t you ever throw anything out?”

  “Nope, and don’t go changing the subject. You’ve gotta make a decision. The price is good, and if you want, Paul and I will even become salaried employees for six months or a year if you think that’s better, just to give you a chance to get your feet wet. I know the place needs a facelift, but other than the Ryobi, the equipment’s in good shape. And other than the inventory being a mite low, I don’t see where the place needs any big cash infusion.” Wanda batted the Xerox machine with a rag—her version of dusting—and sent a zillion dust mites into the air. “You’ve already looked at the books and see we make a good living. This place would be perfect for you. So what’s the problem? It’s either yes or no. We’ve given you the first shot. But Paul and I aren’t gonna wait forever.”

  Gloria nodded. She couldn’t remember a time she’d wanted something so much. The desire had been growing like bacteria in a Petri dish ever since Wanda had told her she planned to sell. Gloria had been praying about it every minute, and it seemed like her prayers had only intensified that desire. She’d even talked to Mr. Hotchkins, the manager of the Appleton Savings. He said he saw no problem with giving her the size loan she was asking for if she’d put down a 20 percent deposit. Twenty percent of eighty thousand was sixteen thousand. It might as well be sixteen million.

  There was only one way she could do it. And that was to take Cutter up on his offer. He had already said he’d go in with her, become a silent partner. She’d be free to run the shop any way she wanted, without interference from him. Only trouble was, she couldn’t get past the fact that he’d be part owner. How in the world could she ever go into partnership with Cutter Press?

  Surely God wouldn’t use Cutter as an instrument of blessing, again. Would He?

  “Can you give me just one more week to think about it?” Gloria said, throwing the manual of the 1976 Heidelberg Kord into the garbage and wondering how one more week could possibly make any difference.

  Chapter Fifteen

  SATURDAY CAME FASTER than Geri Bickford wanted. She had promised Gloria she’d take a look at condos, and she’d make good on the promise. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was facing Gloria. Geri still felt embarrassed that she had jumped to such wrong conclusions about her mother. Why didn’t her mother tell her she was baking cookies for migrant kids?

  And hadn’t Gloria been so sweet about the whole thing? Even calling her “Mom.” Gloria hadn’t called her anything but “Mother” in years. Still, why had Geri been so silly about everything? Crying on the phone like that? Would Gloria mention it? No. Probably not. But now, just thinking about the way Gloria had hugged her, had said in that low, sweet voice, “Everything’s going to be all right,” made Geri want to cry all over again. Since Gloria was a baby, all Geri had ever wanted was to be a good mother and have a happy home.

  Well, that goes to show you how foolish desires can be. Still … Geri could see that maybe some of the blame rightfully rested on her own shoulders. Maybe her unhappy marriage had made her put too much pressure on Gloria. Maybe she had expected too much.

  Expectations again. See. That’s what she had been trying to get Gloria to understand about marriage, about life in general. Expectations got you every time. The higher they were, the greater the disappointment. Maybe Gloria was beginning to understand that too. After all, she had started seeing Cutter again. That was a beginning. Maybe Gloria finally understood that love wasn’t everything. You could live without it. Hadn’t Geri lived without it for years and years and years?

  But that hug.

  And that sweet voice.

  And that word, Mom.

  There was love in them. All these years Geri had believed Gloria only loved Gavin. That miserable two-timer had never had trouble getting women to love him. Still, it hurt having Gloria be one of them. Especially since Gavin had been away so much, having one fling after the other—leaving Gloria without a father’s love and instruction for days, sometimes weeks, at a time—while Geri remained behind, raising Gloria single-handedly and trying to make a decent home.

  She thought about the last time she and Gloria were together, and how she’d walked out of La Fontaine in a huff. She would have to stop doing things like that. If she wanted their relationship to grow, then she’d have to make some alterations in her behavior. And she did want it to grow. Very badly. Just seeing that love in Gloria’s eyes … well, it made Geri realize that it was worth any effort to see it there again, and to keep seeing it. Maybe there was still time to get some measure of love. Some small measure of love.

  “Oh, stop being an old fool, Geri, and just forget it,” she mumbled, watching through the window as Gloria’s car pulled into the driveway and feeling excited and hopeful in spite of herself.

  Gloria stood on the concrete sidewalk studying the Villas—connecting condos of gray-painted clapboards with slanting black-shingled roofs, quaintly clustered with plenty of common ground that held benches where folks could sit and visit. Mauve shutters hugged every window, and black wrought-iron window boxes, full of white and yellow mums, hung below the two large front bays of each unit. Through one of the windows, Gloria could see a spacious living room. Through the other, a galley kitchen. Though each lawn was miniscule—extending only ten feet from the house, front and back—the assortment of densely packed shrubbery beneath the bays and around the walkways gave a lush feel.

  “Oh, I love it!” Gloria said, beaming at her mother.

  “How can you say that? You haven’t seen inside.”

  Gloria ignored her mother’s cautious note and grabbed her by the wrist. “Okay, so let’s go in.”

  Until now, the sales rep, a tall, beautifully dressed woman who looked to be in her sixties, had stood quietly off to the side. But at Gloria’s words, she stepped forward and pulled out a ring of keys. “I’d be happy to show it.”

  Gloria and her mother waited quietly while the woman unlocked the door of unit 318, then stepped aside.

  That’s all the coaxing Gloria needed. She pulled her mother through the entrance and into that large living room she had seen from the window. “Look at the size of this! Plenty of room for Grandma’s couch and recliner. And over there, she could put that hutch she loves so much, and over there her lovely Whiteside clock.”

  Even her mother’s stony silence couldn’t dampen Gloria’s spirits as she pulled her into the spacious bedroom, with a walkin closet and private bath, directly to the left of the living room. “Isn’t this great?” Gloria said, examining the beige Corian sink and Kohler tub, the three-inch wood molding around the doors. When she’d exhausted all there was to see, Gloria led her mother back to the living room, bore right, then headed straight into a small breakfast nook. The nook opened into a galley kitchen loaded with appliances and a sleek, speckled cream Corian countertop.

  Every room in the condo was bright and airy, with either a large window or, as was the case in the living room and breakfast nook, a window and an eight-foot sliding glass door that opened onto a small screened-in porch, which in turn overlooked a man-made lak
e.

  “Can’t you picture Grandma sitting out there with a cup of tea?” Gloria pointed to the porch. “Not bothered by mosquitoes or flies or those awful giant water bugs. Isn’t this just perfect?” Gloria finally let go of her mother’s wrist and tried to read her face. A page of misgivings.

  “You say the lawn is totally cared for in the summer, and in winter someone comes and removes any snow on the sidewalks and driveways?” Geri Bickford had turned and was now addressing the saleswoman.

  “Yes, that’s correct. For a small maintenance fee.”

  “How small?” Geri asked.

  “A hundred dollars a month.”

  Gloria gave a little hop. “This is too perfect. The inside is small enough for Grandma to maintain, yet large enough so she can keep her favorite things. The whole outside will be taken care of for her, and with what that beautiful old Victorian of hers will fetch on the market, there’ll be money enough to buy the condo outright, with some to spare. Grandma won’t have any more money worries. What do you say, Mom?”

  “I say you’d better ask Grandma and see what she says.”

  Gloria let out a whoop that she was sure could be heard in Appleton twenty miles away, but she didn’t care. Her mother, in so many words, was telling Gloria that she would let the matter of the nursing home drop. Without caring that the saleswoman was in the same room, Gloria threw her arms around her mother and hugged her. “Oh, thank you, Mom. Thank you so much.”

  Now, all Gloria had to do was convince Grandma Quinn.

  Cutter Press had driven to Sam Hidel’s in hope of seeing Gloria’s blue Escort parked on the gravel driveway in back. His plan was to pop in for a surprise visit under the guise of telling her his decision concerning Tracy. It was Saturday morning, and he knew Gloria usually cleaned on Saturday mornings. He supposed a surprise visit was not in the best of taste. After all, he could just as easily call and tell her everything over the phone. But coming in person guaranteed that Gloria would see him. And that was the point.

  All the parking spots in front of Sam’s were taken, so Cutter slowed his Saab and inched past the gravel driveway, craning his neck to see if her car was there.

  Empty. The driveway was empty.

  Maybe he’d come by later.

  You really are pathetic, Press. Why don’t you just write idiot across your forehead?

  Try as she might, Gloria couldn’t get her mother to come to Grandma Quinn’s with her to discuss the condo. She said things would go smoother without her.

  Someday those two were going to make up. And Gloria hoped it would be soon. Grandma wasn’t getting any younger.

  Now, as Gloria watched Grandma rub her hutch down with a lemon-oil-soaked rag, she didn’t know exactly where to start. She suspected the truth was the best place. “I just got back from seeing a condo at Willow Bend.”

  “Oh?”

  “You know, the place where Minnie Olson and Olivia Grant live?”

  “Aha.”

  “Have you been there lately?”

  “No. Not since I gave you the Silver Streak.”

  “Well … when you went, did you like it?”

  “It was nice enough. The apartments are a bit small, though.” Gloria knew Grandma meant the condos. “But that was a while ago. Now … small doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Getting harder and harder to keep up a big house. Upstairs and down.” Grandma rested her hand on the carved edge of the hutch. “But it’s good exercise, I suppose. A body needs to keep fit.”

  Gloria felt disappointed with her grandmother’s answer. “But you must miss Minnie and Olivia.” She hoped throwing Grandma’s two best friends into the mix would tip things more in her favor.

  “No. They come regularly to the house for a visit. ’Course, with Minnie’s cataracts, I don’t know how much longer that’ll last.”

  “Minnie’s got cataracts and she’s driving?” Gloria shuddered at the thought.

  “Just the beginnings. Not full-blown. She can see well enough.”

  “What happens when she can’t? See. I mean … Olivia doesn’t drive. And you don’t have a car.” Nor would it be likely that anyone would allow Grandma to have one.

  Grandma tossed her rag onto the dining-room table, walked over to the brown corduroy couch covered with cream lace doilies, and sat down. Gloria sat on the beige recliner nearby. “What’s this all about, pumpkin? You’ve been fidgety since you got here. Why don’t you just come out with it?”

  “I don’t know how you do it, but you always seem to know when I have something to say and I’m not saying it.” Gloria rested her hands on her lap. “Okay, here goes. Mom isn’t—”

  “Mom?” There was a knowing smile on Grandma’s face.

  Gloria chose to ignore it. “Mom’s not going to pursue the nursing home thing. Not after seeing that condo this morning. Oh, Grandma, it’s perfect. It’s so beautiful, inside and out. And you’d never have to worry about your lawn or painting the outside or any of that hard work. And there’s a clubhouse and lots and lots of activities. You’d be with your friends, plus you’d make new ones. This house—,” Gloria stopped and made a sweeping motion with her arm—, “this house is just too big, too much work. You said so yourself. Don’t you think it’s time for a change?”

  The look on Grandma’s face was not the one of happy anticipation that Gloria had been looking for.

  “I don’t know, Gloria. I was never one for something new. I got memories here. My roots are here. A home’s a personal thing. It’s not something you can up and leave, just like that. And Willow Bend’s so far away. From you, from Appleton.”

  “It’s only twenty miles.”

  “It’s not like being right here in town. Besides, who’ll bake for the kids?”

  “We can work something out. Maybe get some of the class mothers to help out. The point is, Grandma, you can’t hang on to this place forever. It’s starting to deteriorate. The paint’s peeling outside. The lawn’s dying. You’ve got a shutter that’s hanging by a thread. You’ve got to sell this place before it goes completely downhill. You’ve got to sell while you can still get a good price.”

  “I don’t ‘got to’ do anything.”

  Gloria threw up her arms in frustration. “Okay. Okay. But would you at least do one thing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Pray about it.” Gloria held her breath until her grandmother nodded. Now it was up to her faithful Jesus.

  Cutter picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number. After it rang several times, the answering machine came on and he hung up. This was the third time he’d called since coming back from Sam Hidel’s. He couldn’t imagine where Gloria was. Not that she owed him an explanation. But that last incident with the stalker had gotten him nervous, and he always felt more comfortable when he knew her whereabouts. At least now that the Apple Festival was over, it would be easier to spot a suspicious stranger. That was a comfort, albeit a small one.

  Maybe he’d just hop in his car and take a ride back over to Sam’s. And if Gloria wasn’t home, he’d just wait for her in the driveway. And then she’d really think he was an idiot.

  “Don’t do it, Press,” he mumbled as he picked up his car keys from the marble dish on the foyer table and walked out the door.

  When Gloria pulled onto the gravel driveway and saw Cutter’s Saab, she groaned. Not that she still found him distasteful or that she loathed his company, but rather, going out early with her mother to Willow Bend, then to her grandmother’s, had left her behind the eight ball in the cleaning department. Her place was a mess, and she had planned on spending most of the afternoon cleaning, then catching up on some paperwork. Now this interruption would cut into her limited time. On top of that, she didn’t want Cutter to see how disorderly the apartment was, though the idea of caring what he thought suddenly seemed amusing.

  But strangely enough, she did care.

  When she opened the car door, she was surprised to see he looked nervous. This was not the Cutter she
knew. Was he afraid she’d be rude? Or order him off the property? She waved, then closed the car door and headed for the stoop. “What brings you to the neighborhood?” she asked, purposely keeping her voice free of irritation. Though she didn’t relish a visit from Cutter right now, she had no desire to embarrass him.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you asked me regarding Tracy. And, okay, I’m willing to take her back.”

  Gloria burst out laughing and saw it surprised Cutter. “It’s just the way you said it.” She tried hard not to start laughing all over again. “Like she was an old girlfriend you had dumped.” Gloria stood in a stiff, upright position, with one arm extended, aping Cutter’s stance. “‘I’m willing to take her back.’“

  She ignored the dirty look he gave her and let him hold the screen while she unlocked the bulky maple door. “But I’m happy to hear it. I’m happy you’re willing to give Tracy another chance.” Gloria led Cutter into the kitchen and gestured for him to take a chair, which he did, then put the kettle on the stove. “Tea or instant coffee?”

  Cutter shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Let’s go for a ride. It’s too beautiful to sit in a tiny apartment. Ah … sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Your apartment’s nice. I just thought we could—”

  “Okay.” She turned off the stove and removed the kettle. Cutter looked relieved. “How about we drive to Spoon Lake—to the old fishing hole?” Cutter’s expression told Gloria she had picked the right spot. She opened the refrigerator. “Maybe I should make us some sandwiches. You know how hungry that place gets you.” She was startled when she felt Cutter’s large hand on hers, the one that was holding the edge of the refrigerator door. Slowly the pressure of his hand forced the door closed.