get any Christmas presents.
Mrs. Palmer patted the woman’s arm. “Don’t worry, dear. We aren’t defeated yet.”
“I didn’t know there was going to be a battle,” Whitney said sadly. Then she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “But I won’t be defeated, not by such ignorant people. Somehow, I’ll find a way to show the town what I’m about, and what I’d like to do to help the women of Valentine feel their prettiest.”
“Good for you, dear,” Mrs. Palmer said approvingly. “Now let us take you where you’re stayin’.”
“I’m at one of the Four Sisters B&Bs. I can walk—it’s not far.”
“But it’s cold,” Adam said. He raised a hand to Chris, who was already heading toward the street. “We’ll drive you.” He tipped his hat to Brooke, Monica, and Emily. “Good evening, ladies. Brooke, you need a ride home?”
“I have my Jeep, thanks.”
“Grandma, my truck’s right in front. Whitney, let me put your portfolio in back.”
Brooke couldn’t help watching, a smile on her face, as Adam herded the two women away like a cow dog.
“I gotta tell you,” Monica said, pulling up her hood, “that man sure is different.”
Brooke hugged herself and started to walk. “I guess. Have you guys eaten dinner?”
“Nope,” Monica said, “but Just Desserts across the street is looking mighty good.”
Emily groaned. “Much as that looks good, I think I need some real food first.”
“Wait, let’s go the other way,” Brooke said. “Mexican?”
“You’re on,” Monica said. “What about that scene of melodrama?”
“I felt so bad for Whitney,” Emily said. “She seems very nice. We never spoke when she was looking into purchasing my building, but I wish I’d had the chance to introduce myself.”
“I think you’ll get your chance,” Brooke said, linking arms with both her friends for warmth. “With the widows at her side, I won’t be surprised if she goes on the offensive.”
Chapter Thirteen
Once they’d dropped off Whitney at her B&B, Adam drove his grandma slowly through the town streets. Snow had begun to fall softly, muffling the occasional car and emphasizing the beauty of the Christmas decorations. Now that Thanksgiving was over, people seemed to have spent the weekend decorating Main Street when they weren’t shopping, stringing lights from tree to tree like in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. Each old-fashioned lamppost had a large outline of a poinsettia jutting out toward the street, all lined with red lights for the petals and green for the leaves.
When Grandma didn’t say anything, he eyed her with concern. “Are you feeling okay? Was this too much excitement for you?”
“I’m fine, Adam,” she said briskly. “I am simply so furious with Sylvester Galimi.” She hesitated. “And with myself. I never thought things would . . . blow up like that. I was so convinced we’d tweak his nose a bit maybe, but . . . oh dear. I’ve made things so much worse for Whitney.”
“Sylvester already planned to do that, Grandma. Tonight, he just got a head start.”
“But . . . he was so ugly about it. I never imagined he could insult a young lady like that, when he knew nothin’ about her.”
“Maybe he’s got some reason he’s so upset about lingerie, like he caught his dad wearing it.”
Grandma gasped, then they both laughed. He was glad to ease her unhappiness, even if only for a while.
As they approached the end of town just before the bridge over Silver Creek, Grandma suddenly pointed. “There’s one of the houses being renovated for veterans. Oh my, the new sidin’ looks lovely.”
“I’m surprised you never brought this subject up,” Adam said. “I heard about it from Mrs. Thalberg. It makes me suspicious that you’re up to something.” More than one thing, truth be told, but he was a patient guy. He hadn’t missed how she’d forgotten to use her cane a few times at the diner. He loved her crazy ideas—he loved her. He realized he wasn’t going to leave her again.
“Your suspicions are plain wrong, Adam Desantis. You don’t want to discuss your military life with me, and I thought mentionin’ the veterans’ housin’ plans might upset you.”
“I’m not a fragile doll, Grandma,” he said. “If your committee has an interesting project, you can tell me.”
Even if he didn’t do anything about it.
When there was a soft knock at the cabin door late that night, Ranger put his head up, ears alert. Adam could have vaulted the couch to get to the door.
Brooke stood on the porch, smiling. Innocently, she said, “I’m just dropping something off