“Who is he?” Marshall asked once they pulled onto the highway.
Gabriella thought the dentist resembled a fire-breathing dragon. She could almost see steam coming out of his mouth—even though it wasn’t cold in the car.
“He’s a vet,” Gabriella replied with a measure of calm she did not feel. “No other veterinarians were available and poor Harley is suffering.” Her eyes misted, but she blinked away the tears.
“Those animals are worthless.” Marshall had badgered her constantly about the alpacas and insisted she should sell Grammy’s land to a developer.
Tonight, she refused to argue with him and an uncomfortable silence lingered in the car. The anticipated snow began to fall, and by the time they reached the trendy restaurant, the ground was coated with white.
Despite Marshall calling ahead to update their reservation, he did not get the table he originally wanted, the one with the view of the duck pond. They were squeezed into a corner booth.
“This is ugly and plebeian,” he complained. “Reminds me of a pub.”
“It’s warm and cozy. It would be chilly by the window.” Gabriella studied the menu. She decided upon shrimp scampi. Marshall ordered steak and lobster tails, which is what he always ordered. With Marshall, there were never any surprises. He was as predictable as snow in winter.
When the waiter left them, Marshall probed for more information about Seth.
“He claims he’s Grammy’s grandson. Grammy’s son ran off with some woman and she only heard from him a few times until she lost contact.” Gabriella always wondered how much money Grammy had sent to her son. Had it been a great deal or only a small amount? Had he deliberately cut ties because he didn’t want to pay her back?
Marshall narrowed his eyes. “You should have called the cops.”
“Seth strongly resembles the photos of Keith.” Gabriella sighed, toyed with the golden corncob saltshaker, and prayed for calm. Marshall never trusted anyone. Of course, she knew nothing about the cowboy vet, but Harley’s faith in him was evident, which was good enough for her. Harley spit at Marshall.
She decided to change the topic. “I had a wonderful time with Grammy yesterday. She told me how to make sweet potatoes like she always made.”
“You mean she was lucid?”
“For a few minutes. That happens sometimes.” Gabriella smiled. Grammy hadn’t changed. She was as charming as ever.
“I can’t understand why you visit her so much. Half the time, she has no idea who you are.”
“Now and again, she does. Besides, I love her. She and Gramps fought to get me out of foster care.” The memory of those dark times still haunted her. She had come close to losing all hope.
“The settlement in your parents’ deaths left you plenty of money.”
“Gramps and Grammy hired the best lawyers available and it took years for everything to be resolved in my favor, but my parents are still dead.” Her throat tightened.
“If you had invested the money instead of sinking it all into the greenhouse and the old carriage house, you would have had a considerable fortune by now.”
She lifted her chin and glared at him. “Since last year, my profits have doubled, and with weddings lined up for every weekend from April until September, I will undoubtedly do even better this year.”
“You should sell while prices are high. The market is too volatile. Next year, the property might be worthless.”
“I will not own the farm until Grammy dies.” She had mentioned this fact to Marshall more than once. Obviously, he had a very thick skull.
Their salads arrived and conversation ceased, which was a blessing as far as she was concerned. Marshall, in his expensive, tailored clothes, took her to nice places, but the rough edges beneath his suave exterior grated on her nerves.
Still, Marshall insisted she wouldn’t find anyone else better than him and she came to accept the truth of his words. Most men freaked out when they saw her hands. At the age of twenty-five, she decided all she needed was someone to take her out once in a while for an occasional date, which Marshall did.
She would not marry him unless she could manage to change him, which didn’t look promising at the moment. He did not want children because he claimed it was too expensive to raise them. She wanted three children, or even four—God willing. Marshall also made snide remarks about Italian culture. He said he was only teasing her, but he wasn’t. His priorities in life differed from hers in many ways.
Fortunately, they finished supper and he did not propose again. She thanked him for the fine meal and felt grateful it came to an end with no awkward surprises.
Her composure turned to dismay when she discovered how high the snow had piled up while they ate. “The roads will be slippery and dangerous.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got four-wheel drive.” He pulled out onto the highway and drove at the same speed he would use for a dry road on a sunny day.
A few miles later, the car spun around a few times and slid toward a bridge abutment. While Marshall swore, she protected her face with her arms. The sound of the crash was impressive, but the airbags and seatbelts worked. After she pushed away the airbag, Gabriella was relieved to discover she didn’t have a scratch on her.
Meanwhile, Marshall filled the interior of the damaged vehicle with every swear word ever invented.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
“No!” Marshall shouted before he went into another tirade about the idiotic highway department placing the bridge’s concrete support in an inconvenient place.
Gabriella sent up a prayer of thanks, since neither of them were injured, though she could not stop shaking. She stepped out of the car to check the damage. From the look of it, Marshall’s car was in no condition to go anywhere. He got on his phone and started shouting at people.
She stood underneath the relative shelter of the bridge and called Seth.
“Hi. How’s Harley? Did you get the supplies you need for him?”
“Yes, I did, and my friend, Flint, is here with me. Harley is doing better. He’s comfortable now and I’m sure he’ll be able to rest well tonight.”
“Thanks so much.” Relief flowed through her until she turned to see a police car approaching with sirens blaring and lights blazing.
“Something the matter there?” Seth asked.
“I guess it will be a while yet before I get back. A bridge abutment got in the way of Marshall’s car.”
“Are you both all right? Do you need help?”
The genuine concern in his voice set her lip quivering. She was ankle-deep in snow so her feet were frozen. Without a hat, her head was cold as well. It would be a very, very long time before a tow truck arrived.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind picking me up?”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” His soothing tone helped warm her feet a little—or maybe her imagination went into overdrive.
“Go slow. The roads are slippery,” she warned.
“I grew up in Colorado.” He chuckled.
She thanked him and ended the call. Meanwhile, the policeman listened politely to Marshall’s explanation of why his car was embedded in the bridge abutment.
She pulled the collar of the fur coat up and continued shivering while the old dark fears edged into her mind. She wanted to get home, wrap herself in one of Grammy’s colorful afghans, sit at the computer, and study the prices of dehydration machines for her overabundance of chives. However, the alpacas came first. She must see if Harley was doing as well as Seth claimed and she needed to pay the vet for his services. Afterward, she planned to call the nursing home to check how Grammy’s day had gone.
The policeman asked her some questions, too, and noticed a bruise on her leg. She assured him it was nothing. The policeman set up a few flares and left when another emergency call came in.
The pickup truck with the Colorado plates appeared about fifteen minutes later and pulled behind the mangled remains of Marshall’s car.
Gabriella wanted to jump for joy, but her feet had turned into solid ice. Seth climbed out of the truck. She waved to him.
“Thanks again for the delightful dinner, Marshall.” She smiled as wide as her frozen lips would allow. “I’m sorry your car is wrecked, but the insurance should help you in purchasing another.”
“Are you leaving me here?” he shouted.
“The tow truck will be along soon and I can’t keep the alpacas waiting.” She turned to go.
Marshall grabbed her arm. “You’re not going anywhere with that cowboy.”
“Take your hand off me,” she demanded.
His lips thinned. He applied more pressure to her arm. It hurt.
Fear knotted inside her, but she raised her voice. “Let go!”
“You heard the lady.” Seth stood next to her.
Marshall swore and released her. Since she had been trying to pull away from him, her balance was off and she nearly toppled over. Seth caught her in time with only one hand. The sinews in his arm had the tensile strength of steel.
Marshall uttered a string of obscenities and climbed into the mangled mess of his once luxurious vehicle.
“He needs his mouth washed out with soap,” Seth drawled.
“Grammy would say the same thing.”
“Sounds like my kind of gal.” He put his arm around her shoulder. “If you don’t mind my asking, where’d you meet him?”
“A friend of mine hosted a party.” She shrugged as they walked to the truck. “Usually, Marshall’s quite cultured and knowledgeable on a variety of topics.”
“I would never have guessed.”
“I suppose he gave you a bad first impression.”
“Even worse second.”
“He’s a dentist, you know.”
“Yes, he made me aware of his superiority when I spoke to him while you changed your shoes.”
Gabriella nodded. Marshall’s elevated opinion about himself annoyed many people. “He should count his blessings since neither of us are hurt.”
“There’s a bruise on your leg.”
“It’ll be gone in a few days.”
“I doubt it.” He opened the door to the truck and helped her climb into the cab.
She settled into the seat and relished the heat blowing on her at maximum blast. The moment her toes began to defrost, they hurt so bad she kicked off her shoes and rubbed them.
Seth climbed in awkwardly. “My hip ain’t broken into yet.” He chuckled. “Sort of like your high heels.”
“Did you have surgery?”
“Yep. One of the meanest bulls I ever had the misfortune to meet decided I needed a new hip.”
“He trampled you?” Gabriella was horrified. Cows frightened her. They were big and stubborn. Alpacas were so much nicer.
“He intended to trample my buddy, Flint. I made an attempt to change his mind, but the bull did not take my suggestion well.” His wide grin held a touch of foolhardy bravery mixed in with a blaze of glory and melted more of the frozen parts of her.
“Do you compete in rodeo? I thought you were a veterinarian.”
“I got a rodeo scholarship to college. My specialty was saddle bronc riding. I hung on ʼcause it paid the bills.” He shrugged. “Never liked bull riding because it’s crazy, but I usually managed to distract a bull from killing his rider. Except this particular New Jersey bull was the orneriest critter I ever met.”
“So...you are a real cowboy.” Her heart fluttered. Her father used to watch old wild west movies and sing western songs, with an Italian accent, of course.
“Well, not anymore.” His voice faded into a husky whisper. He reached behind the seat, pulled out an ice pack, and handed it to her. “For the bruise. Best do this now before it gets any worse.”
She thanked him, though the last thing she really wanted to do was add ice to her popsicle skin. When she glanced at her shin she saw a nasty purple lump. “How did that happen?”
“Your leg collided with the dashboard.”
“I told him he was going too fast considering the depth of the snow and the fact that the road hadn’t been plowed.”
“You think maybe he learned something tonight?”
“I hope so.”
Marshall’s abominable behavior all evening appalled her. He’d never been so horrible. While she was grateful Seth came to her aid, she remained suspicious about his motives in showing up after all these years.
“Why didn’t your father come with you to see his mother?” she asked.
“My father died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. How long ago?”
“More than a year.”
“How about your mother?”
“She left shortly after I was born and didn’t leave a forwarding address.” The heavy touch of sarcasm in his tone startled her.
“Did your father remarry?”
“No. He had girlfriends at times, but they came and went like passing clouds.”
When they stopped at a traffic light, she studied his face, which bore creases caused by sun and weather, but the faint strain of pain etched itself in those lines as well.
“Are you my cousin?” He gnawed on his lip.
The question shocked her. “No. Your father was the only child Grammy and Gramps ever had.”
“Why are you on their farm? Did you buy it from them?”
“I am their godchild. When my parents died, they took me in. After Gramps died, Grammy signed a new will and put me in charge of everything.” She deliberately left out most of her personal history because it hurt to speak of it.
He nodded. “I’d like to see my grandmother, even if she has dementia.”
Doubt twisted around her heart. “Why did you come all the way to New Jersey?”
“My father never told me I had family out here. He kept the past a secret.” His knuckles grew white gripping the wheel.
“Why?” she pressed. He didn’t need to know much about her, but she certainly needed to know everything about him.
“I suspect it had a lot to do with pride.”
“Grammy was not happy about the woman he ran away with.”
“I suppose that might have been my mother.”
Gabriella nodded. “There are a wealth of photos of your father in the house. You do resemble him when he was young.” Except better, she decided.
“May I see the pictures?” His voice grew so soft she hardly heard him over the sound of the engine.
“Some other time. I’m really strung out after the accident.” Gabriella twisted her hands in her lap. She was tired, but Marshall was right. Seth was a mystery. Could he be after the Holmes’ farm? Did he have any rights to it? She should call up her lawyer and find out.