The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,33
growing this business to ever sell it. When their folks died, the two of them sold the family farm and put everything they had into buying this property and starting the café. They started small and worked like dogs to get it off the ground. For years they plowed the majority of their profits back into the business. Sunny and I owe it to them to keep it going. It’s wonderful that now they can retire and enjoy traveling six months of the year. They’re going to Ireland next. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“You’re a good daughter.” He kissed her forehead.
“I try.”
“Seems to me this property, being in such a prime location, should be worth a great deal. I would anticipate you could sell it, invest the proceeds properly and have a higher income for your family than you realize now. And without all the work.”
Cass felt herself stiffen. “Money isn’t the only issue here. A sense of history is just as important. Maybe more so. Why, even our bar is an antique, well over a hundred years old.”
Griff flashed his dimples. “Yeah, I remember. From the bawdy house, right?”
“That’s right. And a very famous bawdy house to boot. It’s even mentioned in some of the historical society’s publications. I’ve been thinking about getting a plaque.”
“Fine idea.”
“Glad you think so. Now, the subject of selling Chili Witches is closed. If you’re going to watch another ball game, I’m going to have to have fortification. Want to order a pizza?”
“Sure,” he said. “Tell me you don’t like anchovies.”
“I don’t like anchovies. They’re like eating salty eyelashes. No, I take that back. The only way I can tolerate anchovies is in Caesar salad dressing or other stuff where they’re mashed up and disguised. And actually, I prefer my Caesar salad without anchovies if given the choice. Did you know that anchovies weren’t part of the original recipe?”
“On pizza?”
“In Caesar salad.”
“No, I didn’t. Should I take notes?”
She laughed and hit him with a pillow. “I’ll order the works, no anchovies. Do you want onions?”
“Are you having onions?”
“Sure.”
“Then I’ll have some, too.”
After she phoned in the order, Cass picked up the TV listings to scan, and Griff rested his chin on her shoulder to read. “There’s a Dodgers game starting in a few minutes.”
“My father would disown me if I watched it. He still hasn’t forgiven the Dodgers for moving from Brooklyn to California. Why don’t we watch a movie?”
She glanced over the film listings. “Oh, look. Ghost. I loved that movie. Whoopi Goldberg won an Oscar for her part. She was hilarious. Have you ever seen it?”
“Not that I recall. What’s it about?”
“It’s about a ghost. You’ll see.”
The timing was perfect. The pizza arrived just before the movie started, and they curled up to watch. Cass got teary-eyed at the tender parts and laughed at the funny parts the way she always did. Griff seemed to enjoy it—or at least he didn’t complain or groan at inappropriate times the way some men were prone to do.
When it was over, she sniffed, and Griff frowned. “Are you crying?”
“Just a little. I adore that movie.”
“It was okay. I suppose I’m more into realism.”
“I take it you don’t believe in ghosts?” she said.
“I’ve never seen one. Have you?”
She hesitated. Should she tell him? Griff would think she was nuts. “My sister has,” she said as a compromise. It was safer talking about Sunny’s experiences than her own.
“Really?” He appeared surprised. “Sunny sees ghosts?”
“Not ghosts. One ghost she’s seen several times. She claims she even talks to the Senator—our father, but she calls him the Senator.”
“Hmm. What does he look like?”
“Tall, gray-haired, a lot like Uncle Wes.”
“How old was he when he died?” Griff asked.
“Forty.”
“Was his hair gray then?”
“No. The pictures I’ve seen of him show his hair was about like mine. Dark.”
“Then why would it be gray now? I wouldn’t think ghosts would age.”
“Huh! I never thought about that. I’ll ask Sunny. Please don’t mention to her that we discussed this. I’m sure she would be embarrassed. I don’t think my mother even knows about it, and I shouldn’t have told you.”
He picked up Cass’s hand and kissed it. “I won’t mention it. Thanks for sharing the secret with me.”
“Now it’s your turn.” She cuddled up against him, laying her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. “You have to tell me one of your secrets.”
She could swear his heart speeded up a tad. Hmm. Had she hit a nerve?
“Must I?”
“That’s the way the game