Chapter 38

Two months later

Red was standing at the counter at Poppy’s Café when Sam walked in and gave her a kiss.

“Hey,” she said. “How was lunch with your dad today?”

George was living in a new home that specialized in memory care forty-five minutes away in Beaverton that Red had helped Sam find.

“He has moments when we’re able to connect. We were talking about back when I was a kid.”

“That’s the thing about Alzheimer’s. Though it’s hard to remember what you did yesterday, sometimes you can call up things that happened a lifetime ago.”

“He was telling me how hard it was to keep an eye on me, back when I was starting to walk.”

Red laughed, because that’s all you could do. “He can remember things you can’t even remember.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

Red smiled with sympathy. “I’m just glad you two have had this chance to get reacquainted.”

Sam nodded. “You almost ready? The Realtor’s going to be waiting for us.”

Sam still had a low tolerance for sappy.

“I’m ready.” She patted her shoulder bag.

They got in Sam’s van and headed west out Meadowlake Road, up a hill and across a stream. Ten minutes outside of Clarkston, they pulled into a paved driveway leading to a wood frame farmhouse surrounded by a fenced-in yard. On the southeast side was a large, well-tended vegetable garden. Ten-foot tall tripods served as supports for the pole beans that had been harvested earlier in the season. Now, pumpkins the size of basketballs lay scattered in one corner. Yellow sunflowers hung their heavy heads over the fence.

It was their second visit to the property. The realtor was already in the driveway, waiting for them.

“I’d like to go inside again,” said Red.

“You two go ahead,” he said. “Now, don’t forget about the amenities. You’ve got ten private acres, hand-scraped hickory floors, and skylights.”

Quivering, Red looked up at Sam. It wasn’t the chill in the air. It was pure excitement.

He put his arm around her and gave a squeeze.

“Take your time,” said the realtor. “I’ll wait out here.”

Red wandered through the spacious interior to the screened-in back porch.

Sam came up behind her and put his arm around her. Together they gazed out at the panorama of blue hills.

“What do you think?”

“I think I like it.”

“What do you like about it?”

“The established garden, of course. It has a sense of permanence. It’s just rural enough that I feel like I’m in the country, but not so far that Grandma is afraid to visit. What about you?”

“I like that you like it.”

“That’s all? You have to want it as much as I do, Sam. I can’t afford a place like this on my own.”

“Aren’t I the one who suggested we take a closer look at it?”

“After I spotted it on the net. I thought it was just a dream—”

“A what? You thought it was a what?”

“A dream house.”

He took her into his arms and nodded toward the mountains, long, tawny lashes like crescent moons above those shining eyes…eyes that seduced her without even trying.

“See that lone oak out there?”

She turned and looked out at the edge of the wild forest beyond the close-cropped yard.

“When we get tired of the bedroom, maybe we can scr—make love out there on my old blanket. That is, if you like.”

He kissed her, his hands resting lightly on her waist. Red’s arms extended straight across his shoulders, hands dangling limply from her wrists, her new diamond sparkling brilliantly in the autumn sunshine.

Tucked away in a garment bag in the spare room of Grandma’s trailer, waiting for spring hung her strapless, sweetheart gown composed of layers upon layers of frothy tulle.

She’d placed an order at Newberg’s finest bakery for a three-tiered cake trimmed with the palest lavender and peach roses and eucalyptus leaves to match her bouquet.

She may have lost her original dream house, but she’d got her dream man.

“I like,” she breathed, matching him kiss for sweet kiss.