Heartwishes

  “I think I’ll wait a while,” he said. “You really want this job, don’t you?”

  “You have no idea how much! None at all.”

  “Actually, I do. I wanted something once.”

  “Did you get it?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  Gemma smiled at him, but she couldn’t imagine what someone as rich as he was could want as much as she wanted this job. When she heard Isla’s high-pitched laugh, she looked out the glass doors. Mrs. Frazier was walking between Isla and Kirk, just a few yards away now, and the three of them looked as though they were old friends. Obviously, Mrs. Frazier didn’t seem to have the same opinions that her son did. Too bad she was the one doing the hiring.

  Gemma took a step toward the door, but Colin reached it before she did and opened it to his mother.

  “Colin,” Mrs. Frazier said in surprise. “I thought you were going into town for lunch.”

  “I couldn’t drag Gemma away from her research, so I thought I’d wait.”

  “Oh? Have you two become friends?”

  “She’s only interested in your boring old papers,” he said as he opened the door wider for the other two.

  “Hello again,” Isla said brightly to Colin, sounding as though she’d known him for years. “Gemma, darling, you missed a truly exquisite lunch.” Isla went to her and kissed her cheek.

  Gemma’s eyes widened. She didn’t exactly travel in the same circles as Isla, and they’d certainly never exchanged kisses before.

  “Gemma,” Kirk said as he too kissed her cheek. “Isn’t this place wonderful?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “What you’ve done to this little house is marvelous,” Isla said to Mrs. Frazier. “Please tell me you aren’t your own interior designer.”

  “I purchased a few things that belonged to my husband’s family,” Mrs. Frazier said modestly.

  “Mother, you bought everything that the first Frazier could possibly have touched,” Colin said.

  “Shamus,” Gemma said, and everyone turned to look at her.

  “Yes, my youngest son,” Mrs. Frazier said. “I didn’t realize you’d met him.”

  Kirk said, “Delightful young man. I’m a great admirer of his accomplishments.”

  “I think Gemma means the original Shamus,” Colin said. “The one who helped found Edilean.”

  Again, everyone looked at her, and she nodded. She was so nervous she could hardly speak. Her deep desire for the job was making her tongue-tied.

  “Where did you hear of him?” Mrs. Frazier asked.

  Gemma took a deep breath. “The name was in the history of Edilean on the town Web site and in the genealogy of your family. I was wondering what happened to cause the break in the generation after him. I searched the Internet and found where the family house had been repurchased in the late eighteenth century by the son of the American settlers, Shamus and Prudence Frazier. But then the surname was changed back to Lancaster, and there was no more mention of ‘Frazier.’ Was the separation caused by the distance between America and England, or did something else cause the rift?”

  When she stopped talking she saw the way Mrs. Frazier, Isla, and Kirk were staring at her. Behind them, Colin’s eyes were sparkling, as though he was enjoying everything.

  Gemma took a step back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious, is all.”

  “Yes, well,” Mrs. Frazier said as she turned to Isla. “As for your question, I didn’t use a decorator.”

  “But it looks like such a professional job. Do you mind if we see the living room again?” Isla gave Gemma a look that said she’d just lost the job.

  “Of course.” Mrs. Frazier left the room first, Isla close behind her.

  “Put your foot in that one, didn’t you?” Kirk said to Gemma, then left.

  When they were alone in the room, Gemma looked at Colin. “Me and my big mouth! Why didn’t I ask about the rug or the desk?”

  “Because you couldn’t care less about them.”

  “True, but I should have pretended to . . .” She paused. “I’m going in there and try to make your mother believe I’m not the world’s rudest person.” Gemma stopped in the doorway. “Quick! Tell me something she likes.”

  “Right now, my father’s aristocratic relatives are her great passion.”

  “But I just—” Her eyes widened.

  “Right. You asked about them and showed that you’ve already done quite a bit of research on your own.”

  Gemma stood there blinking at him. “But she’s more interested in talking about decorating with Isla.”

  “I thought so too, but that was before I saw her face as she listened to you. My mother hates for anyone to know what she’s up to. Let me borrow your notebook.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me, please.”

  Gemma didn’t understand what he had in mind, but she took it out of her big bag and handed it to him, then hurried into the living room with the others.

  “This town sounds enchanting,” Isla was saying, “and if I should be given the job I will enjoy becoming part of the community.”

  “I can’t wait to dive into the research,” Kirk said. “The excitement of discovery, the thrill of tracking down a story, the possibility of learning something that no one else knows . . .” He had a faraway look in his eyes that Gemma had never seen before, even though she’d been in classes with him for the last four years. They’d never been in a study group together, but then Gemma’s workload prevented her from conforming to other people’s schedules.

  “I agree completely,” Isla said. “It will be so interesting to start going through the documents. If I weren’t enjoying the company of your family so much, I’d be in here now.”

  “And what about you?” Mrs. Frazier asked, looking at Gemma.

  “She’s already started,” Colin said as he handed his mother Gemma’s notebook.

  Mrs. Frazier flipped through the pages. Only five of them had been filled with Gemma’s small handwriting, but it could be seen that there was a lot of information in there. “Do you find that using different colors of ink helps you?”

  “I sometimes use eight colors,” Kirk said before Gemma could speak.

  “I use color-coded dots,” Isla said. “Oh, but it will be such fun to start going through everything.”

  “Is that how you feel too, Gemma?” Mrs. Frazier asked. “That it will be fun?”

  “I think ‘intense’ would better describe it,” Gemma said. “I would guess that most of the documents, probably eighty percent of them, are useless when trying to write a history because they’re household accounts. If you want to find out the financial side of your husband’s family, I’d suggest hiring a forensic accountant.”

  “I think Gemma means—” Kirk began.

  Mrs. Frazier put up her hand. “So you’re only interested in dealing with twenty percent of the papers?”

  Gemma felt as though she’d yet again messed up, but when she glanced at Colin, he gave her an encouraging nod. “Yes,” Gemma said firmly. “What I’d do first is go through every box and do a lot of sorting. What I couldn’t use, I’d store, then I’d put the diaries and letters and personal papers in the library and start working from there.”

  Mrs. Frazier looked at Gemma for a moment, then turned to Isla. “And how would you begin?”

  “The same way,” she said quickly. “That’s standard procedure.”

  Gemma shot Isla a look. There was no “standard procedure” for dealing with historical data. All researchers had their own way of working.

  Mrs. Frazier turned to her son. “I think I’ll take a nap. Why don’t I return to the house with Isla and Kirk, and you take Gemma out to lunch? You two must be starving. And while you’re in town, why don’t you show her your office?”

  Turning, Mrs. Frazier handed Gemma her notebook, but she said nothing. She looked at Isla and Kirk. “Yesterday I had the heat in the pool turned up. Perhaps you two would like a sw
im.”

  In the next minute Colin and Gemma were alone in the guesthouse.

  “Oh,” Gemma said as she sat down on the couch. “I can’t tell if your mother likes me or hates me.” She looked up at Colin. “Is going with you a punishment or a reward?”

  “I don’t know. Right now, it could go either way. She’s not too happy with me at the moment because last night I expressed some concerns about a stranger moving into the guesthouse. I liked the idea at first, but after I met Isla and Kirk . . . Well, let’s just say that if my mother could have turned me over her knee, she would have.” He looked at Gemma. “You want to go into town for lunch?”

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  “Then follow me to the car and I’ll make sure we’re not seen. I don’t want those two sucking up to me.” He led her out of the guesthouse, then through the trees and along the edge of a landscaped lawn. As they passed the side of the big house, Gemma saw a very large young man, a teenager, standing behind a glass door and watching them. Finally, they arrived at the driveway in front of the house. There were six vehicles parked there, including Gemma’s rental, making it look like a used-car lot.

  Colin pulled keys out of his pocket.

  “I guess that was your little brother I saw at the door.”

  “Probably,” Colin said as he went toward a Jeep, the kind that looked like it was made to go up and down mountains. “That means we’ll be ratted on.”

  “He’s a tattletale?” Gemma asked.

  “Worse. He’s an artist.”

  She looked across the hood at him in question.

  “Like writers tell everything that happens to them, my little brother draws everything. By tonight he’ll have half a dozen pictures of you and me. He’ll probably portray us as running away to escape Isla and Kirk.”

  The accuracy of that statement made Gemma smile as she got in the Jeep beside him. He backed up, skillfully and quickly maneuvering around three cars that were blocking him in.

  When they were on the road, he said, “Sandwiches okay?”

  “I like anything I don’t have to cook.”

  “So much for my pot roast theory.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I had you pegged for someone who could make a super pot roast.”

  “I’m not sure what that says about your opinion of me, but I can guarantee that I don’t like being pigeonholed.”

  He glanced at her as he pulled onto the main road, his eyes asking if he’d offended her.

  “Meat loaf,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I can make a meat loaf that will make you cry.”

  “Would that be tears of joy or horror?”

  Gemma smiled. “That’s my secret.” They were quiet for a moment as he drove them through the little town of Edilean. The streets branched out from a square with a huge oak tree in the center. She’d read on the town Web site that the tree was said to be a descendant of one planted from a seed brought from Scotland by the woman for whom the town was named.

  As a historian, Gemma couldn’t help marveling at the buildings around the town square. Some of them were modern, meaning that they’d been built since World War II, but most of them were older than that, certainly pre-Civil War. It looked as though Sherman hadn’t applied his treachery to this Southern town.

  She looked at Colin. “What’s the office your mother mentioned? Do you have a job?”

  He gave her a sharp look. “Are you asking if I support myself or do I live off my father’s car business?”

  Gemma instantly turned red. It was exactly what she’d meant. “I . . .”

  “That’s okay. It’s an assumption everyone makes, and two of my brothers do work for him. But I was recently officially elected Edilean’s sheriff.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widened. “Do you have an office and a deputy and a case full of rifles, and what kinds of crime does this town have?”

  Colin laughed. “Are you curious about everything or is it just me?”

  “Everything, anything. So, do you?”

  “I have all those things, and my jurisdiction extends to the wilderness area around Edilean, so I stay busy. After lunch, I’ll show you my office.”

  Gemma hesitated. “Is your mother going to think I’m like Isla and after one of her sons?”

  “She doesn’t pry into our personal lives. So did you leave a boyfriend to come here?”

  “Broke up with the last guy six months ago.”

  Colin had driven through the town and now turned down a narrow road. With trees overhanging above, like a canopy, it looked like they were heading into the wilderness. “What about the football players you tutor? No boyfriend there?” he asked.

  “They think I’m their mother.”

  “Now why do I doubt that?”

  “No, really, they call me Miss G, and they tell me their problems.”

  “Such as?”

  “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s curious.”

  “It’s part of my job,” he answered as he pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. But it wasn’t the usual glass-doored concoction. The building was long and low, with a roof that extended out over the front to form a porch. It looked like a retreat for rich hunters in the Adirondacks. If there hadn’t been half a dozen people coming out with big metal carts, Gemma wouldn’t have known it was a grocery.

  Colin had turned off the engine and was sitting behind the steering wheel, looking at her as though he meant to stay there until she answered him.

  Gemma shrugged. “Let’s just say that I’ve had to learn a lot about birth control and the consequences of not using any. The boys’ reading assignments are often pamphlets on the basics of being away from home for the first time. Sometimes I feel like a sex education teacher.”

  “If you have any really creative things to teach, let me know,” Colin said seriously.

  “So you can pass them on to your constituents?”

  “Of course,” Colin said. “As an elected official, they’re all I care about, and I believe it’s my duty to educate them.” Smiling, he got out of the car, then waited until she was beside him. Together they went into the store.

  The inside of the grocery was dim and cool, and to the right was a huge produce area that glistened with colors and seeming perfection. She followed Colin as he headed for the back of the store.

  “Colin!” a woman said, and he halted. She was young and looked as though she hadn’t had a lot of sleep lately—which was understandable. She was holding a two-year-old boy by the hand, and he was dancing about in the age-old pantomime of “bathroom quick!” On her hip was a six-month-old girl chewing on a bagel.

  With a movement that seemed as though he’d done it many times, Colin took the little girl in his arms. With a smile of thanks, the mother lifted the boy and started running.

  “And how are you, Miss Caitlyn?” Colin asked the little girl he was holding, and she grinned at him.

  With a glance at Gemma, Colin kept walking toward the back, little Caitlyn secure and quite happy in his big arms.

  As they walked, Gemma looked around the store. The items on the shelves were very high-end, and she thought the place was much too upscale for her to afford. She wondered where the local giant-size, cheap market was.

  She followed Colin to a tall, glass-fronted case that was full of fresh-looking seafood. Yes, definitely out of her price range.

  “Colin!” said a good-looking older woman from behind the counter. “You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

  Before he could speak, a little boy, about four, came running up. He held up a toy truck in one hand and the wheels to it in the other. There were dried tears on his face, and he was looking up at Colin as though he were Superman. “Sheriff?” he whispered, a catch in his voice.

  Colin started to reach for the truck but his arms were full with the baby.

  Without a thought, Gemma took the little girl from him, and Colin squatted to eye level with the boy an
d snapped the wheels back into place. The child ran off just as his mother rounded the corner.

  “There you are, Matthew. Do not run off like that again. Oh, Colin! Thank you.”

  “Any time,” he said to the woman as she picked up the boy and left. The first woman came back and Gemma handed her daughter to her.

  Through all this, the woman behind the counter had been watching. “Same as always, huh, Colin?” she said, smiling.

  “Not much different. So what did you want to see me about, Ellie? You have a break-in?”

  “You’re funny. Can you make a delivery for me?”

  “To our favorite little man?”

  “Certainly my favorite, since he helped my daughter. Can you take a couple of boxes out to the farm?”

  “Why isn’t he coming in to get what he needs?”

  “The club ladies are after him again.”

  Colin grinned. “Okay, pack it up. Anyway, I’m sure Gemma would like to see Merlin’s Farm.”

  “Am I to take it that Gemma is your fellow babysitter? The young woman behind you?”

  Colin turned to see Gemma inspecting the chickens that had just been taken off the rotisserie. “Gemma, this is Ellie Shaw, my . . . What are you?”

  “Fourth cousin, removed once or twice,” Ellie said to Gemma. “A town resident just did a genealogy for some of the families in Edilean, and we’ve at last found out how we’re all related. I’d shake your hand, but—” She was wearing sterile gloves.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Gemma said. “Do you own this store?”

  “What gave me away?” Ellie asked.

  “Bossiness,” Colin answered. When he heard a baby start to cry, he said quickly, “Could we get some sandwiches? To go?”

  “Colin is our resident Pied Piper with the kids,” Ellie said to Gemma, looking from one to the other in curiosity.

  “Come on, give me a break,” he said. “I’m trying to impress her that I’m the sheriff and that I deal with dastardly crimes.”

  “Impress her, are you?” Ellie asked.

  Gemma thought she should clear the air. “I’m one of the applicants for a job that Mrs. Frazier is offering.”