A Place in Her Heart Page 9

  Becky resisted the urge to gloat. Even smile. Being right was enough reward for her. Even so, she couldn’t stop her foot from swinging just a bit.

  “The language in the letters is pretty strong.”

  “Not as strong as Gavin’s column was.”

  Rick tapped his thumb against his chin. “I’m not ready to give up on him.”

  “I had a lovely conversation with Helen Dubowsky only a few moments ago at Terra’s Café. Neither she nor Terra were impressed. Neither was Cor DeWindt and about half of the customers.” She kept Helen’s comment about the cowboy article to herself. Rick didn’t need any more ammunition.

  “Coffee shop complaints.”

  “Well, they’re complaining about Gavin. And on top of these letters, I’m listening. I have to live in this place, Rick, and with the repercussions.”

  “I still think they’ll get used to him.”

  Goodness, the man was stubborn.

  Becky reached across Rick’s desk and flipped through a few envelopes, saving her best shot for last. “I believe here’s one from a business called Clip ’n Curl that didn’t appreciate some of Gavin’s comments.”

  “That’s a hairdresser.”

  Becky tapped it lightly on the desk. “Not just any hairdresser. Lanette, the owner, calls the owner of Triple Bar J Daddy.” Becky shrugged, trying not to enjoy the moment too much. “I don’t know which you want to sacrifice—Gavin or…” Becky let the question hang and added a light shrug for emphasis.

  Rick rocked in his chair. Then he stopped, as if ready to concede. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said finally, a grin teasing his mouth. “The downfall of the Easterner.”

  Becky opened her mouth to refute his statement and caught the twinkle in his eye. “Okay. I’ll admit it. I love being right.”

  “If I drop Gavin I’ll have to come up with something short for that space.” Rick came around to the front of the desk as if to confront her face-to-face. But Becky knew he was giving in and didn’t feel threatened by his nearness.

  Felt something else, but she didn’t want to examine that too closely.

  A month ago Becky would have recommended they bring Gladys back, but even one issue in, Becky knew Gladys wouldn’t fit anymore. “Do you want me to find someone?”

  “No. I’ll take care of it.”

  She didn’t have time to enjoy her victory and launched herself out of her chair. “I gotta run. I’m covering the grand opening of the new car dealership. We promised the owner some good coverage.”

  “I understand the member of the legislative assembly might be there.”

  “He better show up. He’s a brother-in-law of the owner.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?” Rick sounded surprised.

  “I’ve lived in this community all my life, Rick. In spite of the many changes that have happened here, I know most of the connections and relationships.”

  “And that’s how you knew Gavin’s column wouldn’t fly. That kind of intuition works for Holmes Crossing, I’ll grant you that much, but when the magazine expands its influence…”

  “I still don’t think a column like Gavin’s works. He’s far too negative. I would guess, as a rule, people don’t like being told in polysyllabic words that they are dolts who don’t know how to run their business.”

  “I still think he had some good advice.”

  Becky knew she should stop. Her point had been made. She had been proved right. But she couldn’t. Something about Rick’s comments, his attitude, created an unreasoning need to bring up a contrary view. “It wasn’t his advice, Rick. It was his presentation.”

  “So he should have wrapped it up in pretty words.”

  Gracious, he was as bad as she was. “Didn’t you ever have to take bad medicine?” she asked. “Didn’t your mother ever put some sugar in it to make it easier to go down? Deceitful, yes, but if you’re doing what you’re doing out of concern, then by all means, use a little bit of sugar.”

  “We’re not dealing with kids. Anyone who has any kind of business has had to deal with problems and setbacks. Don’t tell me they don’t know how to take bad news.” Rick dropped one hip against his desk and crossed his arms.

  Becky glanced at the clock on Rick’s wall. She didn’t have time to argue but she couldn’t seem to stop. “You agree that he was a mistake. Why replow this old ground?” Becky couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her voice.

  Now Rick swung his foot, his dimple deepening in one cheek as he gave her an engaging smile. “Maybe I like arguing with you. And maybe I want to show you that even though you were right, I was a little bit right, too.”

  The teasing tone of his voice coupled with his charming smile brought out a responding grin. “Okay. You were right, too. Hard news for hard times.” She stopped the “but” that was forming and let it lie.

  “So are you going to allow me the last word?”

  Anything she said right now would be self-fulfilling, so she simply nodded.

  “Great. That’s all I wanted.” He reached over and patted her on the shoulder. “Go and enjoy the grand opening.”

  His gesture was almost fatherly, but the feelings it aroused in her were hardly those of a daughter. And as their eyes met again she felt herself drawn once again to him, like a moth to a flame.

  Dangerous.

  She left as quickly as she could.

  Runaround Sue

  We’ve got more trained accountants in the government’s Treasury Department than a politician has promises, and all have the imagination of plywood. My idea of an ideal treasurer would be a mother of four children, married to a wage earner—someone who has learned to make do—to manage a budget that doesn’t change with every whim. Imagine the meetings. “Madame Treasurer, I would like to request funding for an arts project that seeks to discover the self-actualization of dirt within a cultural concept.” Once she’s picked herself up from the floor and wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes, I’m sure they will have received their answer…

  From the desk of the publisher

  If only life were as simple as Runaround Sue would imagine it to be. I wonder what her hypothetical mother of four children would do when asked to respond to the issue of deregulation of the power industry. Not as easy as handing out chore lists. But it’s something that local businesses have had to deal with and must continue to face. This is a hard world full of bad news…

  Becky smiled when she read Rick’s reply to Runaround Sue. He had asked to see what Runaround Sue had written before he wrote up his and this was the result. Not all-out war, but the battle lines were getting drawn. A gentle tug of the gloves.

  Well, Sue was up to the challenge, Becky thought, already planning her next column. She just wished her book were as easy to write as the “Runaround Sue” columns were.

  “Have a seat, Rick, and tell me what your grandfather has been up to lately,” Diene DeGraaf said, patting the empty spot on the sofa beside her. Rick sat down, glancing around Sam and Cora’s living room as he did. Becky sat, legs crossed on the floor across the room, playing a board game with her nieces and nephew. She wore her hair up today, arranged in some combination of curls and pins that looked cute on her. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she cheered on her nephew.

  “My grandfather is busy building up his empire,” Rick said, forcing his attention back to Becky’s grandmother. Of all the people he had met in Becky’s family, Becky resembed Diene the most. Diene had the same bright eyes that held a touch of humor. Same slightly stubborn jaw and laughing mouth. “Grandfather has made his mark in Toronto. Now it seems he wants to do the same in Holmes Crossing.”

  Diene laughed lightly. “He always was a man of vision. Even when he was living here.”

  “He never told me he lived here. Or that he knew you.” Rick could see why his grandfather might have, at one time, been attracted to Diene. Age had only smudged her beauty, not diminished it.

  Diene sat back in the couch, smiling lightly.
“He was quite the gentleman. Just not the kind of man I saw myself having a future with.”

  A peal of laughter drew Rick’s attention to Becky. She was lying flat out on the ground, giggling now, while her nephew and nieces swarmed over her. “You helped him…I saw you…no fair.” The accusations flew at her like popcorn, but even Rick could tell they weren’t really angry.

  Becky sat up and scooped the three kids close to her in a group hug. “I love you all, bumpkins,” she said, still giggling. “Now go get me some cake.”

  As the children scattered, Becky smoothed her hair and tugged her shirt straight. Then she looked up and their gazes tangled and clung.

  He didn’t imagine her soft smile, nor how it made his own heart skip. Just a little. Rick dragged his attention back to Diene and the comment she had made. “And what kind would that be?”

  “The same kind of man Becky has been holding out for. A man who knows the Lord and loves family and community.”

  Rick didn’t have to look at Diene to feel the gentle warning in her words.

  He wanted to pass off his attraction to Becky as the simple chemistry he had felt when he first saw her.

  However, he knew that time with her had desimplified the attraction. She wasn’t just a pretty, young woman. He had come to know her in other ways. Had come to admire her ability to stand up to him. To challenge him. Though he and Becky had never talked much about it, he knew her relationship to God was real and true and positive.

  Becky got up and glanced his way, holding his gaze as they caught. Neither looked away.

  In that moment Rick felt the subtle shift, a realignment of the relationship.

  And from the frown making a number eleven between Diene’s eyebrows, Rick could tell that she had felt it, too.

  “You know, Rick,” she said laying a hand on his arm. “A grandmother is not supposed to have favorites, but Becky has always held a special place in my heart. Of all my children and grandchildren, she is the most like me.” She pressed her fingers down, as if warning him. “I never dated any man unless I saw him as a future life partner. Becky is the same. She’s not a person to go on casual dates. But the most important reason I turned your grandfather down was because I knew his heart wasn’t right with God at the time.”

  In spite of her words, though, Rick heard the unspoken question threaded through her voice.

  “Grandfather Colson goes to church,” Rick said. “He raised my mother to fear God. If that means anything.”

  Diene smiled and Rick caught a glimpse of yearning mixed with sadness. “I’m glad for that,” she whispered. “Did he teach you?”

  “He tried.” Rick held her gaze and once again felt the faint echo of what had touched him in church when Becky sang. But he wasn’t going to give in that easily. “What I’ve seen in the world hasn’t endeared me to God.”

  “How can a loving God allow so much suffering?” she asked softly, voicing his thoughts.

  “Yes.” Her candid question surprised him. “And as long as I’m asking those kind of questions, I can’t see that God would be interested in me.”

  She smiled, looking into the middle distance as if seeking her answer there. “Your grandfather often asked the same question. Interesting that you two are that much alike.” She turned to face him. “It’s a good question to ask, Rick. And God respects the asking. He wants honesty in His relationships with His people. Not fake devotion.” She patted him lightly on the arm. “Keep your heart open to God. He’s not afraid to be asked the hard questions.”

  Rick felt a glimmering of truth kindle in him as he held Diene’s eyes. And what other questions would God be able to handle?

  “Hey, Mother. Find out all the things you wanted to about your old honey?” Becky’s father dropped onto the couch on the other side of Diene and winked at Rick. The moment was broken.

  “Mother used to have quite a thing for your grandfather,” Sam said in a hearty voice. “And now I’ve made her blush.”

  Diene tutted lightly, shaking her head. “If you don’t have anything constructive to say, I’m leaving.”

  “My mother’s a good woman,” Sam said, laughing as Diene strode to the kitchen. “Just doesn’t take to teasing. Did you want to see the rest of the orchard?”

  What Rick wanted was to see Becky again, but she was nowhere in sight. He wondered if she was avoiding him.

  Colette grabbed her sister by the arm, dragging her up the stairs by the kitchen. “Becks, this Rick is adorable,” Colette said in a stage whisper, glancing over her shoulder.

  “That’s exactly what Leanne said. Do you girls subscribe to the same magazines?” Becky laughed off her sister’s gushing comment.

  “Have your little joke. I see the way you two look at each other.” Colette winked at her sister. “Just like me and Nick.” Colette pulled her down on the stairs, her knees drawn up to her chin. “Now, tell me more about him. Leanne said he was good-looking, but the words don’t do him justice.”

  Becky sighed, indulging in her younger sister’s high school—style gossipfest. She knew she would have no rest until she set the record straight.

  “Rick is single. Comes from Toronto originally. He’s Colson Ethier’s grandson and is here to bring Going West into the next century. He likes to travel and drinks tea. I believe he’s about six feet tall. Would have to guess on the weight.” Becky ticked the items off on her fingers aware of Colette’s growing impatience.

  Colette pushed Becky’s hand down. “Very funny. Now tell me what I really want to know.”

  Becky sighed and inspected her fingernails. Saw a hangnail.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Colette stopped Becky’s hand halfway up to her mouth. “So. Tell me.”

  “Honestly, Colette. There’s nothing to say. He’s only here for a little bit and then he’ll be gone. And I’m too busy.”

  “You’re always too busy. You should drop a few things.”

  “Like what? The minister was campaigning for about three weeks to get someone to do kids’ choir. I can’t leave the library board until they find a replacement for me. The worship committee can never find enough volunteers. Sandy needs me to help her with the youth…” Becky laced her fingers together. “And I’m trying to find time to write my book.”

  Colette put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave her a light shake. “Your problem is you’re too good at the things you do.”

  “Well, I feel that God has given me gifts I need to use. And I feel that I’m serving Him by using them in our church.”

  “But surely you don’t have to use them all at once.”

  Becky laughed. “Well, for now, this is my life and I’m happy with it.”

  “Just too busy to do anything about your good-lookin’ boss.”

  “And may I remind you, he is my boss.”

  Colette groaned.

  “C’mon. Let’s see if we can use our dishwashing talents and help our mother out.” Becky jumped off the stairs and held out her hand to her sister.

  “But you have to admit, he is a hunk.”

  And Colette didn’t need to know that there were times that Becky would agree with that statement.

  “I should cut down those old trees, but I hate to do it.” Sam stood in front of a particularly gnarled tree. “Cora’s grandfather started these.”

  Rick thought of his grandfather’s current home. Colson had bought it three years ago. It, too, had stately trees and a well-landscaped yard but he knew nothing about any of it. Nor cared.

  But Sam knew every tree in his extensive orchard as if by name. A heritage, Rick thought with a faint touch of envy.

  The sound of a motor drew nearer and then they heard “Hey, Dad” above its intrusive snarl.

  Rick spun around, his heart lifting when he saw Becky astride an ATV heading toward them. She stopped in front of them and vaulted off, slightly breathless, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright.

  “That guy you needed to get a hold of in the Netherlands just ca
lled.”

  “Is he still on the phone?”

  “Take the quad. He said he’d wait.” Becky’s eyes were on her father, but Rick felt a tug of connection.

  “Thanks, sweetie. I’ll see you two back at the house.” He dropped a light kiss on Becky’s head, jumped aboard the four-wheeler, spun it around and left in a cloud of exhaust and noise.

  Becky turned to him. “Sorry about Dad dragging you out here. He gets a little obsessed about his orchard at times. Show the least bit of interest and you’re his next victim.”

  “He was just showing me this apple tree.” Rick pointed to the old tree beside him. “Telling me the history.”

  “The Opa tree?” Becky smiled as she reached up to grab a rough, crooked branch, its leaves rustling as she shook it lightly. “I remember getting material for budding off it in the summer and apples in the fall. Poor tree. We used and abused it.”

  “He told me your great-grandfather planted it.”

  “Actually, he planted the rootstock. Only native or wild apple trees can overwinter in this climate, but they produce small hard inedible apples. These branches were grafted onto the wild rootstock and produce large, tasty apples. So the wild and the tame work together and need each other. It’s an old tree.” Becky gave the branch another shake, looking up through the leaves, her head thrown back. “It got struck by lightning once. You can see up there, at the top. It’s still the biggest tree in the orchard though.”

  Rick wasn’t looking at the tree though, his eyes fixed on Becky.

  “Obviously a lot of memories here.” He shouldn’t feel the faint tug of envy he did at her history. He never had any desire to be so rooted.

  Becky angled him a quick smile as she walked around the tree. “We used to hide in it, though if Opa ever caught us, we’d be weeding the new orchard by hand. Mostly, we don’t let the trees get this big. Makes it too hard to pick the apples. But this one is special and we don’t prune it anymore.”