She didn’t care that Bianca had seen them leave together. Nor did she care that half the town probably knew by now. Right now, Gracie didn’t care what anyone thought.
She floated downstairs, her fingers dancing along the banister that had supported three generations—four, if she counted Benny—of Starlings who’d lived in this fine old farmhouse on the edge of the Snowberry property.
Would she leave this house if she fell in love and married Marshall? She froze mid-step as the shocking thought hit her hard.
Not that it wasthatshocking—although Marshall hadn’t used the M word or the L word or any forever term, he had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t…what was the expression? Window-shopping.
So, if they got serious and did get married, would she and Benny move in with?—
“I thought I heard a customer.” Red poked his head out of the kitchen door. “G’morning, sunshine. How are you?” The question came out equal parts teasing and curious.
Of course, he knew she’d had a date last night, but this was all new territory for Gracie and Red. The last man she’d “dated” was Sam, a loser who got her pregnant and then hauled out of town.
Since then, there’d been no man in her life but the one she was raising. How would her opinionated grandfather feel about that change?
Guess she was about to find out.
“Morning,” she said dreamily, snagging a piece of bacon as she passed. “You’re up early.”
“Old men don’t sleep much,” he said, flipping another strip. “Especially when some lunatic named Bertie texted me at five a.m. to—get this—do a sunrise power-walk.”
Gracie choked. “She…texted you? How did she get your number?”
“Probably from Cindy, who I’m officially disowning today.” He stirred the batter and eyed her over his rimless specs that, along with the beard, made it look like Santa himself was at work in the kitchen. “You look…happy.”
Gracie leaned against the counter, trying not to grin too big. “Iamhappy.”
He poured a cup of coffee, sliding it toward her like a bartender. “That’s good. That’s real good.”
There was something about the way he said it—like the words had splinters—that made her tilt her head. Maybe he’d already thought of the logistics if this brand-new relationship went anywhere. Red couldn’t live here alone, could he?
Nope, not an option.
She went to the fridge for cream, considering just how much to tell him. Better he know now that this was happening. Plus, she could never hide anything from her grandfather.
“We had the best night, Red. I mean, really wonderful. We walked around town, looked at the snow globes, listened tothat street violinist near the square. And then dinner at The Lakehouse.”
“Fancy,” Red murmured.
“Not too fancy,” she said, taking a sip of coffee and sliding into her seat at the kitchen table. “Perfect, actually. We talked about everything—family, work, faith, life. He told me he doesn’t really date just to date. He’s looking for something real. And he thinks…maybe that’s me.”
Red slid her a look that was just dubious enough to make her heart fall.
“No? You don’t think so?”
“Me?” he scoffed. “Gracie girl, I don’t get a say in your personal life.”
“You have a say in my everything life,” she quipped. “Please, feel free to opine. Or do you think someone like Marshall would never love someone like me?”
Her grandfather wiped his hands on a dish towel, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean, someone like you?”
“You know,” she said softly. “I’m not…outgoing. I like to bake and read and am not really…” She wanted to say “beautiful” but Marshall had made her feel utterly gorgeous last night, and he’d meant it. “I’m not like, say, his ex.”
He snorted. “Thank the good Lord for that.”
“Have you met her?”
“Yeah, I, uh, bumped into her on the property.”
