“I don’t see why not. Somebody’s got to take charge. Who better than the boy’s own grandmother?”
“Delia! I thought you’d vowed never to tell him,” her friend protested. “You kept it from his mother that she was your very own daughter. Why go blabbing old secrets now?”
“Because it’s time,” Delia said. “There were so many times when I wanted to tell Mary Louise the truth. I could see she was so unhappy at home, that her mother deliberately made her life miserable, but I kept silent, like I’d promised. Now I want Kevin to know before I die. I don’t want that secret to die with me.”
“You always said it should, that if you didn’t have the gumption to acknowledge your child, then you’d have to live with the consequences.”
“Well, I changed my mind. Sue me.”
“Oh, Delia, think this through,” Bessie pleaded. “Are you sure you’re not just being selfish?”
“I’ve had more than fifty years to think it through. I should never have allowed my child to be raised as theirs by my sister and her husband. Back then, though, it would have been such a scandal and I didn’t want Mary Louise to bear the burden of my shame. Kevin will understand that. He will see it for the sacrifice it was. I know he will.”
“You hope he will,” Bessie corrected fiercely. “What if he resents all the years you cost him of having a grandmother?”
“He had a grandmother,” Delia argued.
“One who paid as little attention to him as possible and treated his mama like dirt,” Bessie said with disgust. “You were the one he ran to, especially after his mama died. At least you’ve had Kevin in your life all these years. His mother wasn’t adopted by strangers and taken away from you. Isn’t that bond enough?”
“Not anymore.”
“He could hate you, you know. He knew how miserable his mother was. What if he blames you for not stepping in and making things right?”
Delia sighed. “That’s just a chance I’m going to have to take.”
His aunt was as nervous as a Junebug. She had been for most of the past week, Kevin noted. Every time he came into a room, she scurried out. Or, if they were at the renovation site, she made sure that someone else was in the room with them. Something was up with her, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what.
More than once she opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, then clamped it shut again. He might not have Gracie’s intuition, but even he could tell that Aunt Delia was torn over telling—or not telling—him something. Was she desperately ill? Sorry that she’d gotten into this bed-and-breakfast business? What?
He finally caught her by herself in the kitchen at home. She jumped when he walked in, and her gaze darted around nervously as if she were looking for a quick escape route or else Molly’s protection. Fortunately for him, Molly had already left for the market. There was no one around to save his aunt or interrupt them.
“Everything okay?” he inquired lightly.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be okay?” she asked, already edging toward the door.
“You tell me. And don’t try sneaking out of here.”
She paused where she was. Her hands fluttered nervously before she finally seized the back of a chair to steady them. She fixed him with a steady gaze, bold as you please, but the grip she had on the chair gave her away.
“I can’t imagine what you mean,” she said, though her voice hitched when she said it.
Kevin resigned himself to guesswork. “You aren’t having second thoughts about what’s going on over at your house, are you? It’s not too late to back out. Gracie would be disappointed, especially after all the work that’s gone into it, but she’d adjust. We’d find another house for her. Maybe you and I could spend a few days every week in town so you could get together with your old friends. I know uprooting yourself after so many years to move out here with me hasn’t been easy.”
“No,” she said adamantly. “I want Gracie to have that house.”
“Okay, if it’s not the house, what is it? You aren’t sick, are you?”
“No, of course not.”
“You’d tell me if you were?”
“Yes, darling, I’d tell you.”
“Then what’s going on? I can see you’re upset. Don’t even bother denying it.”
She sighed and a tear trailed down her cheek. “Oh, Kevin.”
Horrified by the sight of his indomitable aunt in tears, he whispered, “Aunt Delia?”
She brushed at the tear with a hankie, then sat down heavily. “I suppose now’s as good a time as any.”
“Time for what?”
“Sit down,” she said. “I can’t talk with you hovering over me.”
Kevin pulled out a chair and straddled it, facing her. “Okay, I’m sitting. Now what on earth is so terrible that you’re scared to tell me? Haven’t we weathered a lot of storms together?”
“Of course we have. It’s just that there’s never been anything quite like this.”
“Like what?”
“Hush,” she said. “I’m getting to it. Give me time.”
Kevin had the feeling if he gave her all the time she wanted, they’d still be sitting here at Christmas. “Come on, Aunt Delia,” he coaxed. “It can’t be as bad as all that. Did you wreck the car?”
She frowned at him. “You know perfectly well I haven’t been behind the wheel of a car in over a year. We made an agreement. Besides, you hide the keys.”
“Which you’d only know if you’d looked for them,” he pointed out, fighting a grin. Another tear slid down her cheek sobering him once more. He was still worried about her health. “You’re not ill, are you?” he asked one more time.
“Heavens no,” she insisted, brushing at the tears. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”
“Then tell me. Don’t make me pry it out of you.”
“As if you could,” she said with a haughty sniff. “Not unless I was willing.”
He grinned. “Okay, okay. We’re agreed
