Monkey Wrench (4 page)

“Why? He disappoints you all the time.” Rose released Susannah's hand and returned to the stove.

“He doesn't mean to disappoint me. He's just forgetful. He's a busy man.”

“Too busy to be kind?” Rose sent her a short-tempered frown.

“I won't defend Roger today,” Susannah said patiently, having endured Rose's low opinion of Roger Selby for a long time. “Roger and I understand each other, and that's what matters. Subject closed. I'd rather hear about you.”

“I'm fine,” Rose said at once, spooning cocoa into a saucepan full of milk.

“Joe says—”

“Oh, what does Joe know? I had a little episode, that's all.”

“An episode?” Susannah echoed. “That sounds like a euphemism for something very bad.”

“It wasn't.” Rose shook a dash of cinnamon into the warming milk and reached for the bottle of vanilla from the open shelf over her head. “I just...I didn't feel well for a couple of hours. Maybe it was the flu.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“I felt light-headed. Then, I...well, all right, I admit I blacked out.”

“Good heavens! That's more than the flu!”

“Joe was here,” Rose said hastily. “So I wasn't alone. It hasn't happened again. I'm fine now.”

Her concern heightened, Susannah asked, “But what caused it? Have you been taking your blood-pressure medicine?”

Rose flipped her hand. “Off and on. When I need it.”

“Granny Rose!” Truly angry, Susannah rapped the table with her knuckles. “You're supposed to take that medication regularly! It's not something you pop into your system now and then—”

“I've been feeling well without it.”

“When was the last time you saw your doctor?”

“I have an appointment scheduled in January.”

“That's not answering my question. When was the
last
time?”

Rose didn't respond, pretending to concentrate on the seemingly intricate task of stirring hot cocoa with the long-handled spoon. Frustrated, Susannah leaned forward on her elbows, trying to think of a way to force her grandmother to take care of herself. It seemed very odd, though, for Rose had been Susannah's parent for most of her life. To reverse roles and become her grandmother's caretaker felt...well, presumptuous. Until now, Rose had been perfectly capable of taking care of herself. What right did Susannah have to march in and take over?

“Look,” Susannah said, endeavoring to keep her voice steady, “it's not my place to order you around. You're a grown woman with common sense, and you know you should take your medicine and see your doctor regularly. But for some reason you're not taking care of yourself, Granny Rose. That upsets me.”

Impatiently, Rose said, “I promise to see Dr. Phelps after Christmas.”

“Why not immediately? I'm sure he'd squeeze you into his schedule right this minute if—”

“I don't need to see him now.”

“But if—”

“I'm fine, and that's final! Go on your vacation and have a wonderful time, Susannah. After Christmas, you can come see Dr. Phelps with me, if you're still upset. But I'm not going to budge until then, do you hear me? I'm fine!”

Susannah glared at her grandmother's turned back.
“Granny Rose, are you afraid you'll spoil my silly vacation if you're sick?”

Rose was saved from answering that question. A thump sounded on the stairs, and a lofty baritone voice carried to the women in the kitchen, singing, “‘Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o'er the plain....”'

Then Joe appeared, filling the kitchen doorway with his tall frame and broad shoulders. His gaze traveled swiftly to Susannah, and he lifted his brows as if to ask how everything was going. Susannah frowned and shook her head.

Rose turned from the stove. “You don't look much like an angel, Joe, but you can sing like one. Want a cookie?”

“As many as you can spare,” he said cheerfully.

“Sit down, then. This cocoa is almost ready.”

“Smells great.”

Joe eased his body into the wooden chair opposite Susannah's, and he continued to watch her face while Rose's back was turned. “So,” he said, “you two get everything worked out?”

“Yes,” said Rose.

“No,” said Susannah dourly.

“That's what I like to hear,” Joe responded, reaching a long arm to snatch a cookie off the nearby countertop. “Détente, right?”

“The matter is closed,” Rose said with authority. “Now we're free to talk about you two.”

“There's nothing to talk about, Granny Rose.” Susannah glowered at Joe, who grinned back at her before taking a sizable chomp out of his cookie. “Nothing whatever.”

“There certainly is, dear. Given a chance, you and Joe might really hit it off.”

To Joe, Susannah said, “She's just doing this so we'll leave her alone about her health. I don't know why she feels she needs to matchmake for me. I'm very busy in Milwaukee.”

“Not the right kind of busy,” Rose said. “Have you ever seen her show, Joe? It's really wonderful. Last week, Suzie showed how to make Christmas wreaths out of corn husks,
how to roast a goose with sage leaves stuffed under the skin and how to make cranberry preserves in crystal glasses to give to your friends. Trouble is, Suzie's apartment has a front door hardly big enough to hang a wreath, she'd never roast a goose for herself alone, and I'll bet her friends in the city would rather eat caviar than cranberry preserves.”

“There's no man in your life?” Joe asked bluntly, polishing off the first cookie and reaching for another.

“No. Yes.” Exasperated, Susannah said, “I have a gentleman friend whom I see regularly.”

“You ‘see' him?” Joe inquired. “What does that mean exactly?”

“He's her boss,” Rose supplied. “The station manager. It's not exactly a hot love affair.”

“It's comfortable,” Susannah retorted. “Roger and I don't have time to develop a serious relationship with anyone, so we...well, we're happy associating with each other. Dinner now and then—that sort of thing. Now could we please get back to the subject at hand—”

“They're going on vacation together,” Rose added for Joe's benefit, disregarding Susannah's attempt to terminate the discussion. “But they're going to plan the next six months' worth of ‘Oh, Susannah!' shows together. Can you imagine going to the beach to work?”

“No,” Joe said promptly. “But then, I hate the beach. I'd much rather go hiking in the snow. What do you want to go to the beach for? You'll just get sunburned and sweaty.”

“I like the ocean.”

“It's too hot.”

“It's beautiful!”

“It's boring.”

“How could anyone be bored at the beach?” Susannah demanded. “It's so overwhelming and awe-inspiring—”

“I don't go on vacations to be overwhelmed.”

“No,” Susannah said, studying him cryptically. “I don't suppose a guy like you is ever overwhelmed.”

From the stove, Rose interrupted. “I hope you like
marshmallows, Joe. I don't trust a man who won't eat marshmallows.”

“I love 'em,” Keeping his lazy-eyed grin trained on Susannah, he said, “I have a terrible sweet tooth.”

“But that's your only weakness, right?” Susannah asked softly. She felt uncomfortably warm under Joe's penetrating gaze.

He laughed. “How'd you guess?”

“Just a shot in the dark.”

“You think I'm a legend in my own mind?”

“If the shoe fits...”

Joe leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table and staring straight into Susannah's eyes. “And you,” he said distinctly, “are so caught up in your big-city career that you wouldn't recognize a real man if you ran into one in a dark alley.”

“I avoid dark alleys,” she replied primly.

“Scared?”

“No, just smart.”

“Sometimes even smart people have to take risks. Otherwise, life passes you by, Miss Suzie.”

“Children, children,” Rose cautioned, looking absurdly pleased as she carried two china cups of steaming cocoa to the table. Both cups were crowded with marshmallows. “You're making assumptions about each other before giving this whole thing a chance.”

Susannah blinked in astonishment at her grandmother. “Five minutes ago you were threatening you'd never speak to this man again! Now you're practically angling for a marriage proposal! What's happened?”

Rose set the cups in front of her guests and said smugly, “I was blinded by a brilliant idea. I've never known two people who were more ideal for each other.”

“Ideal?” Susannah objected, laughing. “You're always digging up men with whom I have nothing in common!”

“Hey!” Joe sat upright, feigning offense. “How bad do you think I am?”

“I don't think you're bad,” Susannah said quickly, making an effort to be polite despite her frustration. “It's just that I'm perfectly happy the way I am, and I don't need a husband to make my life complete.”

“Who said anything about becoming a husband?”

Susannah threw up her hands. “Oh, heavens, how did this conversation get started? Granny Rose,
you
never seemed to need a man in your life.”

“The right one came along at the right time,” Rose said peaceably, pouring herself a cup of cocoa from the saucepan and adding a generous pile of marshmallows on the top, “but he didn't last, that's all. When he passed away, I didn't feel the need to go looking all over again. I had my happiness. But you haven't had your chance yet, Suzie.”

“I
am
happy!”

Rose sniffed. “Drink your cocoa.”

“It's delicious cocoa,” Joe said to Rose, cradling the cup in one rough hand and slurping marshmallows. “Unique, but classic.”

“Thank you, Joe.” Rose joined them at the table and sipped from her own cup approvingly. “I always add a dash of cinnamon and vanilla along with a pinch of sugar to sweeten the milk. I believe in going the extra step to make everything special...even with little things like cinnamon in cocoa. And I've taught Susannah to do the same. Why, you should taste her Christmas eggnog! It's—”

“You don't have to sell my wifely skills to Mr. Santori, Granny Rose,” Susannah interrupted dryly. “I am not a prize heifer on the auction block.”

“Don't be rude, dear, while Joe and I are having an innocent conversation.”

“Must you be so obvious?”

“Obvious about what, dear?”

Susannah began to smile. It was impossible to stay angry with her grandmother, especially in such a ridiculous circumstance. In fact, it was almost a pleasure to be sitting comfortably around the old kitchen table, sharing a snack and
laughing with old friends. And that was exactly how she felt about Joe Santori. For some reason, he fit right into the familiar scenery. He was relaxed and funny—surprisingly easy to be with. He bore Rose's needling in the spirit it was intended. His laughter rang off the ceiling beams and rattled the delicate china cups on their hooks over the sink. His grin was friendly...and ever so slightly wicked. Susannah couldn't help smiling back at him from across the table.

In a rough, manly kind of way, Joe Santori was very sexy. So sexy that Susannah found herself wondering if she hadn't missed something in life, after all.

To Rose, Joe said, “So you're not mad at me after all, Mrs. A.?”

“I'm annoyed, but not mad. I hired you to fix my back porch, not run my life.”

“Well, the porch is almost done, but there are a few other things this house could stand to have fixed, you know.”

“Like what?” Rose asked, drinking her cocoa.

“In layman's terms, this old place is falling apart.”

Susannah said, “Surely you exaggerate.”

“Not at all.” Quite seriously, Joe addressed himself directly to Rose. “I took the liberty of looking around upstairs a little just now. I notice the roof leaks, for starters.”

“Oh, it's nothing a few pots and pans can't take care of when it rains,” Rose answered with a twinkle in her eye.

Susannah frowned. “I had no idea you were having problems with the house, Granny Rose. Why didn't you tell me?”

Rose shrugged. “Why should I spend my time worrying about an old pile of wood? It just has to last as long as I do. The only reason I had Joe work on the porch was that the posts were rotting.”

Joe said, “You're going to live a good, long time, Mrs. A., so I think we should make sure your house doesn't fall down around your ears in the meantime.”

“Oh, Joe, you're too busy to bother with an old woman like me.”

Despite her objection, Rose looked suspiciously delighted
to be the center of an attractive man's attention, Susannah noted. She said, “Maybe you ought to get some estimates from other carpenters, Granny Rose.”

“Oh, I don't want anybody but Joe working on my house. If he's got the time, that is.”

“I've got time,” Joe said.

“Aren't you working on the old lodge for the Ingalls family?”

“It's coming along fine.” Joe leaned comfortably back in his chair and reached for yet another cookie. “In fact, I think the Ingalls family is trying to decide if they're going to sell the old place or not. My crew is moving right along on the major renovations while they think about it. The improvements we've made should certainly help them get a better price.”

Susannah's curiosity was piqued by that bit of Tyler gossip. “The old lodge is for sale? I thought it was condemned years ago.”

“Not condemned, just closed up. It was in pretty bad shape,” Joe said, “but Liza has been fixing it up again. Do you know Liza?”

“The youngest Baron girl? Yes, she was several years behind me in school—her brother, Jeff, was closer to my age—but I remember her. She was...well, a little wild, as I recall.”