Stolen Secrets (10 page)

"He loves his mountains, but I gave him the cat picture. He took care of Sugar and Spice for me when I was in the hospital."

Ryan entered at that moment from the storeroom, the snow shovel in his hand, the two cats underfoot. "I’ve never figured out if I was overpaid or underpaid."

Grandma Miller chuckled. "Just wait'll I keel over, then you can sell it and see."

He grinned and stepped outside, scooping the snow away from the entrance.

Her interest caught, Angie asked her how much the paintings brought in.

"An original sells for nine to twelve hundred, but I get around forty to eighty dollars for the prints. So I make a lot more off the prints, depending upon the number I’ve made up."

Grandma Miller had removed her smock to reveal a turquoise housedress. She pulled up a chair near Angie and kicked off her sandals.

"Enough of that," she stated cheerfully, automatically petting the cat which jumped into her lap. "What's been happening over there?"

Angie tried to keep the story simple, starting with her overhearing Patti on the phone, but found that Grandma Miller wanted all the details and didn't mind probing and prying until she had them. Besides being inquisitive, Grandma was astute enough to pick up things Angie tried to gloss over, and in her forthright manner quizzed the younger woman until she felt satisfied she had it all.

“So today I’m going apartment hunting,” Angie said, ending her tale.

"I was right, you did have a story to tell. You've got a lot of grit and more than your share of luck. Scott is hot-headed. It's just as well he wasn't alone when he found you."

"He didn't hurt me."

"Not for want of trying. Ryan tempers him, a lot. I don't think he realizes how much. But you'll be okay, now you're with Ryan. He'll see you right," she said, with open conviction.

Angie felt inclined to agree with her. She finger-combed her hair so that its fine strands fell back in place. The house was warm and pleasant and her companion delightful. She admired the quick-witted old lady and could understand Ryan's apparent enjoyment of her.

"I bet Ryan helps you a lot, doesn't he?" she asked her hostess.

"Uh, huh. Sneaky like. He checks on me every day he's here, although he usually has an excuse for dropping in. He's too sensitive to tell me he knows these old bones are brittle, and doesn't want me to break something falling off a chair."

Her bright eyes shone pleasantly under the thin eyebrows, lifted to express her acknowledgment of Ryan's care. "And he's tactful. Doesn't tell me I'm too old to live alone in a houseboat."

Angie chuckled. Ryan hadn’t fooled this independent old lady. "Well, are you? It looks like things are under control."

"They are; but mainly because of him. He tells me if something major needs doing, like putting on a new roof or getting the place rewired. I hire that done. But where Ryan helps most is with the little everyday jobs, too heavy for me. I've learned to leave things be, he'll see it needs doing and take care of it." She paused, lending more weight to her next statement. "He does it without me having to ask. Not like my grandchildren. That's what makes him special."

So they weren't related. "Not having to ask him?"

Grandma nodded, her white wispy hair floating about her face. "Yes. It isn’t good to be so independent you won't ever ask for help. But it piques me when I can't do things anymore. My mind thinks I'm still a teen-ager. It says I can do everything I used to. But my body doesn't agree."

Angie laughed. "It won't cooperate."

"It's not for lack of trying. But if I do something too foolish, Ryan bawls me out. Says I'm a stubborn old woman and to quit it. I'm a lot wiser since I tried to change a light bulb and lost my balance. Shook me up badly and fractured my arm."

"You're more careful now, I hope."

"I have to be. Next time it might be my hip." She sighed, accepting the inevitable. "Then I really would be dependent."

"You're right, independence is nice up to a point. Then it's scary. And I’ll admit it's been wonderful, being taken care of."

"Yes. Ryan knows how to do it without hurting your pride."

Angie nodded in agreement. Ryan just did things. He didn't look for thanks. He didn't expect her to be grateful nor did he ask permission— just went ahead and did it. And by giving her a job, he had helped her in the best way anyone could.

“He understands a person's need to be self-reliant. More than my own grandchildren. They think I'm crazy to be living here."

"Do they think you should live in an apartment?"

"Oh no! A nursing home." She snorted disgustedly. "That's fine for some, but I don't want to be surrounded by old people. You young folks keep me alive.

"I love it here, watching the boats go by. I have my cats and my paintings. It's a close-knit community. Living in houseboats we share our problems. And this type of life tends to attract a certain kind of person. Most of us are fiercely independent, yet dependent on one another. You won't find the same neighborliness in an apartment house. More tea?"

"Yes, thanks, I will. Are your grandchildren satisfied that Ryan checks in on you?"

"No. I need someone to live in, of course. Mainly to be here at night. I've interviewed a few university students, but they all want a place to entertain, to party. I'm not up to that much youthfulness. Now if I could find someone— " She interrupted herself and stared at Angie. "Would you...?"

Angie quickly caught the idea. "Live here?"

"Yes."

"That would be great, but are you sure— "

The elderly lady shrugged. "We won't know till we try. You mightn’t be able to stand me."

"Or you me, but I’d love to try."

It would place Angie as close as possible to Ryan while she tried to prove her innocence. She found this idea outweighed any other consideration.

"Well, you be sure to say if anything bothers you. I insist on that." Grandma Miller's voice grew quiet and she added, almost as an afterthought, “I wonder if Ryan will do anything about Patti? You said he didn't act very upset when he thought the CDs were gone. I wonder if he actually had anything on them or if he had set a trap to catch the thieves. Ryan can be devious when he has to be, and it's not like him to let anything as important as that out of his sight."

"If it was a trap, he didn't catch anyone but me."

"Ryan's never had his place broken into before. Very few even know where he lives. They're pretty brazen to try to steal anything while he at home. They might’ve been successful if you hadn't woke up and shouted."

"And taken an icy dip in the lake," Angie added with a shudder.

The door opened and Ryan stepped inside. "We're done out there. Do I get her back, Grandma, or you going to keep her a while longer?"

"I've decided to keep her. Angie's going to move in with me. She can stay here free in exchange for keeping my grandkids off my back."

He frowned and Angie hurried to speak, wanting him to accept the living arrangement. “It’ll solve the problem of my finding a place to live. And Grandma will have someone staying with her.”

She wanted her relationship with the elderly lady to be a carefree one, and when he still looked doubtful, she added, “This way I’ll be close to you— to my work.”

"I don’t know. Things’ve been going on. It might be better for you to get a place by yourself.”

“Nonsense,” Grandma said. “Angie and I may blend perfectly.”

“She’ll have to be in and out all the time....” Ryan waved his hand as if letting it finish the sentence for him.

“I’ll give her a key.”

"And I can pay rent, now that I have a job," Angie added.

Grandma shrugged that off. "If you want to. Let's wait a few months while you get some savings put away. You can buy your own food, keep it on one side of the refrigerator, eat when you want to. Don't think I'm doing this just for you. The kids kicked up something fierce when I stayed here alone during the storm." She scowled fiercely at Ryan. “This is something I want.”

“I know. But Angie may be a lighting rod, bringing danger here. I don’t—”

“It’s dangerous for me to take a bath. Don’t worry so. It’s not your decision anyway.” She nodded in emphasis and smiled at Angie. “Come look at the room.”

Ryan helped Grandma Miller up the stairs to the bedrooms, with Angie following.

The upstairs appeared well lit. One room served for storage. The other, a large room with a window looking out over Ryan's house and the lake, stood relatively empty since Grandma Miller now spent her time on the main floor.

Angie gazed around with delight. "It's beautiful."

"My favorite room until the stairs became too much a chore to climb. And too dangerous. There's a bathroom here, it'll be all yours. And I’ve scads of bedding and towels and things, so you won’t need to get any of that."

“Thank you. You can’t imagine— “

“Oh yes, I can. And I’m glad to be able to do it.”

Downstairs, they discussed the snow for a minute as Angie put on her coat, then went outside. Each home now had a path cleared to its door and Angie followed Ryan onto the porch, slipping as she did so. He grabbed her arm to steady her, then swung her up into his arms and carried her across the short ramp.

"How did you like Grandma Miller?" he asked as they gained the dock. He didn’t put her down and Angie hung on harder, lest he consider doing so.

"She's sweet."

"She needs someone there at night." At her nod, he asked, "You wouldn't mind, sharing with someone elderly? She has her idiosyncrasies, besides those two cats."

"Don't malign Sugar and Spice, you know like them. I admire her, you know, and respect her wisdom. I hope I’ve that much bounce when I'm her age."

"Her spirit defies her years."

"She seems to love living here. I don't know what will happen if she ever has to go into a nursing home. Some elderly people just give up and wait to die."

"True. But she may have to, some day." He stopped as two mallards, a male and female, swam over to check for handouts. "I hate to go inside."

Her deep breath caught a touch of his scent added to the crisp air. She had her cheek pressed against his shoulder— she was spending a lot of time in this position. She just hoped he enjoyed their closeness, too.

His reluctance to go inside could be simply because he was enjoying the fresh air and the beautiful day, but she preferred to believe that he wanted an excuse to hold her longer.

There had been other men in Angie's life, ones she had dated and others she’d known at work and school. Usually she had chattered, keeping the conversation going, for the silence had been uncomfortable unless both were immersed in study or work.

Ryan was different. His silence reached out, enveloping Angie in its circle. It may have been body language, or the force of his personality. Whatever, it had slowly bound her to him. Stronger and stronger, knots tying invisible strands around her heart so that she longed to lay her lips against his, to meld with him in silent contentment.

The coats were heavy and warm and his arms stayed strong and steady. No wavering there, a secure port in any storm.

How marvelous to be loved by him. Clean living had given him healthy skin, glowing in the cold air after his exertions. If his mind and heart were as pure as his skin, no wonder she responded to him. What woman wouldn't?

Tightening her arms around his neck, she pulled herself higher, and for the first time since he had carried her out his gaze met hers, searching, looking for an indication of mutual response. Or was she misreading things entirely? If only he’d say something about how he felt. How frustrating to communicate silently!

No. That was foolish. As long as he harbored suspicions of her, everything she did would be questioned, somehow. Lowering her gaze, she broke contact.

* * *

Ryan paused to check out the boys. They were taking turns, settling their differences between themselves, conditions he had stipulated when he first gave them permission to climb. They weren’t about to lose the privilege.

They swarmed up the wall with ease. Kent, Chase, and Jason were now able to use the more advanced routes. Their abilities had improved enough that he might take the three climbing with him next summer— if their parents consented.

He wished he had thought last night to check the deck leading over to the wall, to see if any footprints marred the snow. That way he could be a hundred percent sure of Angie. As it was, that possibility still lingered.

He sighed. For the sake of the companies that depended upon him for their security, he had to keep an open mind about Angie. Although that was getting harder and harder to do. He even worried about her staying with Grandma Miller. He wanted Angie close, but what if she meant danger to the older woman?

He set Angie down and followed her inside. Closing the door behind them, he suggested a quick lunch, then a visit to the hospital.

“Okay. You wearing those?” She pointed to his socks.

“Mismatched?”

“Badly.”

He shook his head, headed for his bedroom. “Socks are impossible. I buy in bulk, to get all one color, but one slips in, now and then. They lurk in the laundry, ready to pounce.”

Angie laughed and waited downstairs for him to return.

They found Mary drained and red-eyed, a mere wisp of her former self. Worried, Robyn mentioned Mary wasn’t sleeping and eating much.

“We had planned Thanksgiving dinner for the day after tomorrow. Should we cancel?” she asked Ryan quietly. “I hate to leave Mary here by herself.”

“Don’t. Take her home with you. Get her involved in cooking, decorating, anything,” he suggested. “She needs a break. That will provide one.”

“It won’t be a very happy day for the others.”

“Doesn’t matter. Mary does.”

“Yes. You’re right. Bring Angie.”

“I will.”

“She connects with Mary. Have you noticed?” Robyn cocked her head toward Angie, who had hold of Mary’s hand, talking animatedly to her.

“She connects with a lot of people. They open up to her.”

Himself included. He found it easy to talk to her, like talking to Robyn or to Grandma Miller. “Do they think Warren’s going to make it?” he asked.

“No. No way.” Her eyes mirrored the hard fact.

He bowed his head. “Ahh.”

“He’s brain dead already.”

Ryan nodded.

“We’re going to have to find a way to tell Mary, but I asked them to wait until she starts to see the hopelessness for herself.”

“Good.”

“It won’t be such a shock then. In the meantime she’s getting used to the situation. We’re starting to talk to her about him.”

“Will she have to be the one to take him off life support?”

“If necessary. The doctor said he would insist. That might help her take the step.”

“Going to be hard.”

She gazed at him tiredly. “He was her lifeline.”

He nodded, his mind searching for another subject. “Anything I can do toward Thanksgiving?”

She looked surprised— he had never offered to do anything like that before. “I don’t know. The turkey’s thawing. It really is easy to cook— just takes time.”