Wild and Wonderful (13 page)

Picking up one of the lighter suitcases, her father clamped a hand on the housekeeper's shoulder in action that indicated he was considering joining forces with her. "Hannah, you are an excellent cook. You wouldn't happen to have a recipe for a good sour mash?"

The plump woman had taken one step toward the house. She stopped abruptly at his question, her mouth opening in silent shock. Glenna wouldn't have been surprised if she had dropped one of the suitcases in her hands.

"What's the matter with this man?" She turned roundly on Glenna for an explanation. "Has he taken leave of his senses?"

"It's a long story, Hannah," Glenna laughed. "I'm sure dad will tell you all about it."

The housekeeper eyed him sternly before starting again for the house. "It'd better be good. Otherwise
I'm calling a doctor. You could be having some side effects from that medicine you're taking," she grumbled.

As they reached the front door a car turned into the driveway. "It's Bruce." Glenna recognized the wagon.

She and her father waited on the stoop while the housekeeper went on inside. Bruce stopped the car beside the red Porsche and smiled a greeting as he climbed out.

"It looks like I timed it just right," he remarked noting the luggage they were carrying. "How did it go?"

"It didn't." Her father held the door open for Glenna to precede him into the house.

"I was afraid of that," Bruce replied with an I-told-you-so look and followed them into the house. "What are you going to do now?"

Setting the luggage inside the door, her father took the question seriously and didn't tease him the way he had Hannah. "Since we can no longer postpone the inevitable, we might as well start planning for it and make it as painless as possible." He led the way into the study.

"How?" Bruce raised an eyebrow and glanced at Glenna as if expecting a protest from her, but she had been over all this with her father during the drive home.

"We can begin the necessary, legal proceedings to turn the company assets over to its mortgage holders and debtors. Tomorrow I'm going to contact a real-estate company and put the house on the market." His gaze swept the room in a mental assessment of its contents. "We have a lot of furniture; household goods and miscellaneous items. We need to decide what we're going to keep so we can start selling the rest and get the best price that we can."

"But where will you go?" Bruce appeared a little dumbfounded by Orin's calmness.

"That's another thing." Her father stopped beside his desk and absently picked up a wood-carved decoy that served as a paperweight. "We need to look for a smaller place to live, maybe closer to town, although we might find a cheaper place if we stay in the country."

"What will you do without the income from the mine?" Because Bruce was well aware that a man of Orin's age with a history of heart trouble would have a difficult, if not impossible time finding work.

Glenna offered her solution to that. "Tomorrow I'm going to start making job applications. I should still be able to keep submitting freelance articles and supplement my income with writing."

"I used to be pretty good at woodworking." Her father studied the handmade decoy in his hand. "When you were younger, Glenna, I used to mess around in the workshop a lot. Remember the dollhouse I made for you and all the doll furniture?"

"There were lights in the room that you could turn on and off, operated by batteries," she recalled.

"That was enjoyable, building that." He smiled reminiscently. "It would be good therapy, too. Maybe I could set up a little shop. I have all the tools."

"Why'd you ever stop doing that?" Glenna wondered aloud.

"I don't know." He considered the question. "The business began taking more of my time, more paperwork, more problems. Then your mother died and…you know the rest."

"Personally I think the workshop is an excellent idea," she concluded. "What about you, Bruce?"

"Sure," he agreed with a trace of vagueness. "It sounds good."

"Is something bothering you?" her father questioned at the bewildered look on Bruce's face.

"No." There was a slightly dazed shake of his head. "I was just wondering how you came up with all these plans when you only talked to Coulson this weekend."

That drew a smile from her father. "Once you stop concentrating on keeping your head above water, it's easy to decide to swim to shore."

"I guess that's true," Bruce conceded.

"How were things at the mine while we've been gone? Did anything happen that I should know about?" It was an inquiry that was reluctantly made. Glenna could tell her father was asking because he was aware that it was still his responsibility for a while longer.

There was definitely relief in his face when Bruce shook his head. "No, it's just been routine."

"Good." He nodded and began turning the decoy in his hand, inspecting it absently. Coming to a decision, he set the wooden duck down. "I think I'll walk out to the garage and see what kind of shape my tools are in." He was halfway across the room before it occurred to him that he was deserting his guest. "You will be staying for dinner, won't you, Bruce?"

"I'd like that, thank you, if you think there's enough to go around," Bruce accepted.

"With Hannah cooking there always is." Her father
continued to the foyer. "I won't be long."

Alone in the parlor-turned-study with Bruce, Glenna wandered to the fireplace. In the last few minutes she had caught herself making unfavorable comparisons between Bruce and the more dynamic Jett. One puzzle had been solved. At last she understood why she hadn't been inclined to let her relationship with Bruce develop into a more serious one. Despite all his good qualities, and Bruce had his share, there was a vital ingredient missing from his physical chemistry. Without it there was no volatile combustion.

The knowledge convinced Glenna that her relationship with Bruce would always be a casual one, but that didn't mean she didn't care about him, or wasn't concerned about his future. She turned to look at him.

"What are you going to do, Bruce, when the mine does shut down?" He had become such a part of her life in the past three years it was difficult for Glenna to picture a time when he wouldn't be around. "Have you given any thought to it?" she asked, since he had always been convinced it was unavoidable.

"I've managed to put a little money aside. I thought I might take a couple of months off, enjoy a long vacation for a change," he smiled lazily. "I can give you and your father a hand settling into a new place, and help him set up his workshop if that's what he finally decides to do. That way I can take my time and look for a really good job instead of taking the first one that comes along.

"Will you put in your application at other mining companies?" If he accepted a position away from this immediate area, Glenna knew they would inevitably drift apart. Sooner or later, she supposed, that had to happen.

"Naturally." He moved to stand beside her and lean a hand on the fireplace mantle. "That's where my expertise and experience are."

"But is it what you want?" It had been something her father had been forced into doing. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Bruce repeated with a shake of his head, an ardent glow firing his eyes. "I love it."

"Doesn't it ever bother you to go down that shaft?" Glenna was curious.

"I feel at home there. In a strange way I feel safe as though I was in the womb of the earth. It's something I can't really explain," he shrugged finally. "I wouldn't want to do anything else. What made you ask that?"

"I guess because I never knew until this morning that dad never wanted to run the mine. He's been in the business all these years, but it's never been what he wanted. Yet he's struggled and fought all this time to keep it in operation." She felt it spoke highly of his dedication and sense of responsibility. "It's ironic, isn't it, that out of something bad there is good. Dad is finally free of the mine."

"It's hard to believe he's the same person I saw last week. He's a changed man," Bruce commented. "I was afraid he might take it hard. But you're right, he seems relieved and happier than I've seen him."

"I know. It's wonderful."

"You've changed, too, Glenna." His gaze narrowed slightly, as if puzzling over the difference.

"Me?" She stiffened a little, sensitive to his scrutiny, not certain what his probing gaze might discover.

"Yes. I don't know quite what it is, but you don't seem the same. It's as if you had grown up overnight. Which is crazy," he mocked at his own statement, "because you were an adult before. You look more like a woman now."

She moved away from the fireplace to escape his astute study of her. "I'll bet you've simply forgotten what I look like in the four days since you've seen me," Glenna chided him, trying to joke her way out of the situation. "You just don't want to admit it."

Bruce laughed his denial. "I'm not likely to forget what you look like." Pushing away from the fireplace, he leisurely followed her. "I know what it is." The difference dawned on him slowly. "You look vulnerable now. Before you always seemed so confident and self-assured, capable of tackling anything."

"That's silly." Her laugh of protest was brittle.

"No, it isn't. All of this has hit you harder than it has your father," he reasoned. "That's why you look lost, and a little afraid, isn't it?"

"No—" Then Glenna realized he was offering her a logical excuse. She checked her denial to hug her arms around her waist in an unconscious gesture of self-protection. "Maybe it has," she lied.

His hands gripped her shoulders to turn her around. "You know I'll help in any way I can. You don't have to face this thing alone. I'll be with you."

When he bent to kiss her Glenna turned her head aside and his mouth encountered the coolness of her cheek instead. "Don't, Bruce." Her voice was flat as his caresses left her cold. There was no need to experiment to see how his kiss would compare with Jett's. It couldn't. Glenna stood rigid within his hold, not fighting him as she stared to the side.

"What have I done, Glenna?" He was irritated and bewildered by her rejection. "Anytime I get close to you anymore you pull away from me."

"It isn't you. It's me," she replied because it wasn't fair to let him wonder if he had done something to upset her.

Sighing heavily he let his arms drop to his side. "Do you want me to leave? I don't have to stay to dinner."

Glenna lifted her head to look at him. "I'd like your company tonight, Bruce." She tried to tactfully make him understand her view of their relationship.

"My company but not my kisses." He read between the lines.

"I'm sorry, but yes," she admitted her meaning. Her expression remained composed, gentle but firm.

"I guess we've got that clear." His mouth tightened grimly as he turned away and walked to an armchair. "Why don't you tell me about your weekend, then?"

"There isn't much to tell." Glenna wished he'd chosen a less disturbing topic—like the weather. "The Greenbrier is a fabulous place, but it wasn't exactly a pleasure trip."

"What was Coulson like?" His choice of subject went from bad to worse.

"Just about what you would expect—al-though he's difficult to describe." Which he wasn't. Black hair and eyes, hard compelling features, with a latent sexuality about him that awakened hers. "He's intelligent and self-assured. He isn't one to suffer fools gladly." She remembered that he had walked in the woods and watched the sunrise. "He has an appreciation for the serenity and beauty of nature."

"How was he to deal with?"

A wry smile broke around the edges of her mouth as she remembered his afternoon meeting with her father. "Jett is…" Glenna paused, realizing how easily his name had slipped from her, but there was no way to hide it. "A better poker player than my father."

"Jett. You were on a first-name basis with him?" Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"We saw him socially, as well. I called him Jett. He called dad Orin." Glenna shrugged and tried to make it appear an insignificant item. "There's nothing special about that."

"He's a bachelor, isn't he? Good-looking as I recall." His gaze searched her face.

"Yes." She knew she wasn't doing a very good job of appearing indifferent, but just thinking of Jett made her remember things that made her blood run warm.

"I suppose he flirted with you," he accused, jealousy simmering in his eyes.

"What does it matter?" Glenna had to take a stand somewhere or Bruce would continue to ask personal questions that she'd rather not answer. "It isn't any of your business, Bruce."

Taking a deep breath, he released it in a long sigh. "Things are changing too fast for me to keep up with."

The awkward moment following his comment was filled by the sound of footsteps in the foyer. Glenna recognized her father's tread and glanced toward the study door.

"Hannah sent me to tell you dinner is ready," he announced from the doorway. "The condemned are going to eat a hearty meal tonight. I came in through the kitchen and I think she was under the impression the local boy scout troupe was coming to dinner tonight. I hope you brought your appetite with you, Bruce."