One Snowy Night (Sweet Home, Alaska #1) - Patience Griffin Page 0,53
support for her and Ella without Hope knowing. “What about a college fund?” he asked. “Does Ella have one?”
Hope sighed heavily. “There’s no fund.”
“Does Ella want to go to college?”
“I would love her to go.”
He could almost hear what Hope didn’t say: I would love for Ella to have the college experience that I never had.
“Would you let me set up a college fund? I’ll make sure it’s fully funded—books, tuition, room, and board.” He wanted to invest in Ella’s future because he hadn’t been part of her past.
Hope shook her head and looked up as if she were complaining to the ceiling.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Ella’s my responsibility!”
“It took both of us to make her.”
“Yeah, except . . .” She sighed. “I can’t lie, you helping with college takes a huge load off my shoulders.” But she didn’t look happy about it.
“Then what?”
“I don’t take charity.”
“It’s not charity, Hope. She’s my daughter, too.” To him, his voice sounded like stone. He hoped Hope heard it, that he wasn’t budging.
“Fine. Help with college, then.” She still seemed conflicted, but he didn’t care. If nothing else, his money would buy Ella a future.
Hope looked as if her brain were spinning. “But let’s not say anything to Ella yet.”
“Why?” Was Hope trying to keep him and Ella apart? “While I’m here, I want to get to know my daughter.” And after he left, he would make sure that he came back often to see her. And she could come to Florida and visit him and her grandfather, too. “What’s your reasoning behind not letting Ella know that I’m going to be part of her life going forward?”
She rolled her eyes. “Good grief, Donovan, it’s not personal. Ella is trying to come to grips with having a living father. I want to be the one to talk to her about college and everything.” Her frown deepened. “And she’s not necessarily speaking to me at the moment,” Hope said, almost to herself.
“Can I do anything to help?” Donovan asked.
Hope scooted back her chair. “No. All I wanted was my assignment for this afternoon and you’ve given it to me.”
* * *
• • •
HOPE SNATCHED THE moose fabric from the couch and headed down the hall to Elsie’s sewing studio, feeling even more humiliated than she had this morning, when she’d been forced to take this job. How was that even possible?
Donovan and his damn envelope had caught her off guard. And then on the opposite end of the spectrum, she was still reeling from the kiss this morning. She swore her lips were still tingling.
Someone was following her down the hall. Girding herself, she spun around, but it was only Boomer. She scooped him up and held him close. “I’m glad you’re here, cutie. Your owner is driving me crazy!”
She walked into the studio and scanned the room, which she hadn’t seen since she brought in the firewood. A new wave of nostalgia hit her. It was as if the Sisterhood of the Quilt had just stepped out to have a bite to eat at the dining room table and would be right back to their cutting and sewing. She could almost feel the love—the love they poured into their quilting projects and the love they had for one another. The love seemed to overflow from the studio to the lodge and into Sweet Home itself. The studio made Hope remember everything good, everything right with the world. Now there was just a void, an emptiness that had never been filled, keeping her from feeling whole. She quashed the sadness. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for herself; now was the time to work.
Hope took a critical eye to everything she saw. The room was large, bigger than the expansive living room. But instead of bear rugs covering a wood floor, this one had worn linoleum with spent threads everywhere, as if Elsie had been sewing only this morning. Design walls were hung on three sides with pins still stuck in them. Bolts of fabric stood upright on a specialty shelf, and there was fabric stretched across the long island in the center of the room, where irons were evenly spaced along the homemade ironing board.
“The first thing to do is to sweep the floor.” Hope set Boomer in the chair in the corner and grabbed a broom. “I’ll let you roam as soon as I get these threads up. Otherwise, you’d track them all over the house.”