Anna grinned, and Alice knew it wasn’t, for her grandfather, the same way it had been for Cord and Jackson’s grandfather, Emerson. He didn’t leave because he was ashamed of his own parents’ lifestyle.
“According to Kate,” Anna said, “when he’d been younger, he’d been full of himself at one point and took a turn down the lane marked ‘entitled little princeling.’ Of course, his grandmothers, Sarah Carmichael Benedict and Amanda Jessop-Kendall, soon disabused him of the notion.
“Their words must have worked deeply, for as soon as the war was over, he decided to take a small inheritance and make his own way in the world. He wanted to prove—mostly to himself, Kate said—that he was deserving of his heritage.”
“He was. Our dairy farm is very successful. Grandfather’s vision and hard work created a legacy that we all appreciate.”
“Well, at least you and two of your brothers do.” Anna Jessop met her gaze over the tops of her glasses.
Huh, that’s something I do, look at people over the top rims. She called it her over-the-top look. Then Aunt Anna’s words penetrated.
“You’ve met Jason and Thomas?” Alice knew her eyes had gone wide, but she couldn’t help it.
Anna Jessop grinned. “No, but I’ve met your parents, you, and of course Chance and Logan. You’re all smart, open-minded people.” Anna shrugged. “I figured one or both of the other two must have been the ones who chased you away from home.”
Alice tilted her head to the side as she mentally reviewed her conversations with Aunt Anna since she met the woman at the engagement party for her brothers and Bailey, and on her first visit this trip to Lusty to the museum. She felt her smile bloom.
Anna Jessop is not only open minded, she really sees people. She really sees me.
“It’s Jason,” Alice said. “Thomas is just the biggest of the big brothers, who bosses everyone around, but Jason doesn’t see me at all.” She shrugged. “One of my pet names for him is The Maestro of Meticulosity.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “Oh my, one of those! How big is the stick he’s been cursed with?”
Anna meant the stick Jason had up his butt. Alice chuckled. “I try not to think about that.” And then she shuddered, for emphasis.
“That’s probably for the best.” Anna patted her back lightly. “Kate is fond of saying that things generally turn out the way they were meant to be. Sometimes, life has a way of disintegrating those sticks.”
Alice was a little tired of not being seen by her brother in New York. But she didn’t hold any grudges. Those were just a waste of time.
“Do you know what? That would make me very happy. I really hope life does that for Jason C. Benedict.”
“Of course, it would make you happy,” Anna Jessop said. “You’ve a very giving and loving heart.” Then Anna frowned. “You refer to him with his middle initial? He’s that bad?”
Alice thought that was one of the best compliments she’d ever received. She tucked it away and answered Aunt Anna’s question. “He is, but that’s not the reason. Don’t ask me why, but Uncle Edward and Aunt April named their youngest son Jason, too. But his middle name is Jonathan. So he’s Jason J. Benedict. We avoid calling our Jason J.C. for obvious reasons. So mostly, we call our cousin J.J., to distinguish the two.”
“Well. It’s true that all you can do with family is accept them warts and all, isn’t it?
“Yes, ma’am. And it’s also true the best families are made and not necessarily born.”
Anna Jessop’s grin let Alice know that here was a woman she’d be able to count on. Here, right here in this museum, heck, in this entire town, was family—her family.
* * * *
Ian Kendall looked around the neat, two bedroom one-level home. Set on a quiet street in a town he’d heard of all his life but only visited a couple of times before today, the house was clean and tidy and decorated with little touches he recognized from his childhood.
There was the same set of framed photographs on a shelf above the sofa, some of which he appeared in, that had graced the mantel of the grandparents’ home outside of Cheyenne, Wyoming. There was the delicate crocheted afghan on the back of that same sofa, an afghan created years before by his own mother as a gift to her mother-in-law. And there, in one corner, stood the piano where he’d taken lessons from his grandmother Margaret when he’d been a young boy of nine or ten.
Ian hadn’t proven to be a particularly talented student, nor had he truly wanted to learn to play the piano. However, he’d adored his grandmother and took every opportunity, even as a preteen, to spend time with her.
Other than his Uncle Carl’s kids, he and his siblings were the only ones of his generation encouraged to spend time with the grandparents. Of all my other cousins, only Ken enjoyed spending time with the grandparents. That was one of countless reasons the two of them were best friends. And why the two of them had always gotten along with their cousins Sean and Noah.
Ian turned to look at his grandfather. “This is good, Grandpa. Real good. It feels homey, here.”
“It does.” Ken, Ian’s cousin, best friend, and business partner, nodded. Then Ken turned and faced their grandfather. “Sean said you had a lot of help getting settled in. We both felt bad we couldn’t get away to help you.”
“I had more help than I needed. Samantha and the triplets pitched in, as did many of the young’uns in the family, and it was done in no time.” He sighed and, as Ian and Ken had both done, looked around the room.
“Margaret would have loved this house. We had talked about making the move
