Manhunting in Mississippi. Stephanie Bond

relief that she wouldn’t be so eager to join him on this trip. He forced disappointment into his voice. “Afraid not—Mudville, Mississippi, population twelve hundred.”

      Her slender nose wrinkled. “What’s in Mudville, Mississippi?”

      “The plant that packages desserts for my Italian diners.”

      “Oooh, the butterscotch cheesecake?”

      He smiled and nodded. “Among others.”

      Wincing, she patted her flat tummy with a manicured hand. “That settles it—with bathing-suit season around the corner, I definitely can’t go.”

      Ian made a clicking sound with his cheek and tried to look disappointed. “Maybe next time.”

      “Why are you going?”

      “I’m planning to franchise the coffeehouses next year, and I think a designer dessert would improve their marketability—you know, something catchy.”

      She narrowed her almond-shaped eyes. “I meant, why are you going? Don’t you have someone to take care of that kind of thing?”

      “Well…yes,” he admitted, not without a certain amount of guilt. His vice president of marketing had made the same point just last week when Ian had returned from a plant in Illinois. And his doctor had warned him only yesterday to delegate more work at the office. Frustration pushed at his chest, causing him to respond more vehemently than the situation warranted. “But I think the importance of this project justifies a firsthand consultation with the company’s food scientists.”

      Meredith’s eyes widened slightly, then she inclined her head. “When it comes to food, you seem to know what the public wants.” One eyebrow arched and she smirked. “How are the kiddie parlors selling?”

      Glad for the change in subject, he smiled wide. “Great so far. Pizza and trampolines seem to be a profitable mix.”

      “Go figure,” she said, her dry tone a clear indication of how she felt about having kids, hearing kids or just plain seeing kids—a fact which needled him slightly. She blotted her lipstick with her folded napkin. “How long will you be in…Mudville, is it?”

      “Oh, I don’t know…as long as it takes to get a good prototype. Maybe a week, maybe more. Sometimes these small-town plants are not as prepared as they should be for presentations.”

      Her frown quickly turned into a sweet smile as she reached forward to pat his left hand. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you finding someone else in a place called Mudville. If it’s as desolate and godforsaken as it sounds, you’ll have lots of peace and quiet to consider my proposal.”

      Ian conjured up a smile and hoped it wasn’t as shaky as his knees. At this moment, Mudville seemed like a haven, a slow little one-horse town where he could forget about the proposal for a few days. Fresh air, good-tasting water, maybe even a fishing trip or two…and no women bent on dragging him to the altar.

      “HI, GRAN.” Piper dropped a kiss on her grandmother’s silky cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Justine is obsessing over her wedding plans.”

      Dressed in gray sweats, Ellen Falkner radiated youth—seventy-five going on forty-five, she was much too young-looking for the title of “granny,” a name she insisted on nonetheless.

      Granny Falkner smiled wide, tucked a strand of convincing light brown hair beneath her blue bandanna, then planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t fret, Piper. There’s still plenty to do.” She frowned and glanced around the living room, shaking her head. “How does one accumulate so much junk?”

      At least two dozen brown boxes lined the perimeter of the weathered room, stacked atop jumbled furniture. The cabbage-rose wallpaper Piper had always loved suddenly appeared yellowed and dated next to the bright squares where pictures had once hung. Stripped of its window dressings, the tall-ceilinged parlor looked half-naked and lonely, as if already pining for its mistress.

      “Gran,” Piper said softly, “after forty years, you’re allowed to have accumulated a few knickknacks.”

      “I know,” her grandmother said, caressing the wooden mantel. “And I’m really going to miss this old house.” Then she turned a bright smile toward Piper. “But six years alone is plenty long enough. I hate to leave the house empty, but Nate would want me to move on, and Greenbay Ridge looks like my kind of place.” She winked. “I can learn to line dance and still be close to you.”

      “You’ll be the social butterfly of the entire retirement community, Gran. And the real-estate agent will find a buyer soon.”

      Her grandmother’s forehead wrinkled. “I wish you would take the house, Piper.”

      Piper shrugged, guilt riding through her. “I told you I’d be glad to move in with you. It would add only five minutes to my commute.”

      “Which would be wonderful for me, but not for you, dear. No, we both need to get on with our lives, but I was hoping you’d be looking for a home when I was ready to move.”

      Yearning bubbled within Piper, but she struggled to maintain a calm expression. Despite its dubious location in the outskirts of Mudville, she did want the big old house she so dearly loved, and for years she’d been putting aside every spare dime hoping she’d be able to buy it someday. Her finances still fell short of the mark, but if she received the bonus she was hoping for, she’d be within striking distance. But in case things didn’t work out, she had sworn the real-estate agent to secrecy. Piper chose her words carefully. “Gran, I can’t afford to buy this place, and I’m certainly not going to let you give it to me.”

      Her grandmother shook her head and frowned. “I know Mudville isn’t the most exciting place to spend the rest of your life, but I did so want you and your children to have this home.”

      “Gran,” Piper chided, “be practical. You have to have money to live on.” Then she grinned. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not pregnant.”

      She was rewarded with a wry, wrinkled smile. “Not unless it was an immaculate conception, I’d wager.”

      “Gran!”

      Granny Falkner angled her head. “Really, dear, you conduct yourself like a nun.”

      Shock thickened her tongue. “I…I don’t want to talk about my, um—”

      “Chastity?”

      “Well, I’m not exactly a vir—” Piper stopped and swallowed. “A Virgo.” She laughed weakly and jammed her hands on her hips in a desperate attempt to look innocent. “I mean, I’m not exactly a Virgo,” she repeated in a squeaky voice. “B-because I’m a Pisces…as you know, Gran.” She cleared her throat noisily and scrutinized the toes of her leather clogs.

      Granny Falkner laughed. “You young people think you invented sex. Well, I’m here to tell you, your grandfather and I could have filed for a patent or two of our own.”

      Piper blinked and held up her hands. “Gran, I really don’t want to hear this.”

      “Relax, Piper, I’m not going to embarrass you. I’m simply trying to get you to open up.” She reached out and ran her thumb over Piper’s cheek. “You still don’t realize how lovely you are—with that face, you could have any man you wanted.”

      “Spoken like a true grandmother.”

      Sharp blue eyes, which she’d inherited, stared back at her. “Did someone break your heart, dear? Some young man in college?”

      The concern in her gran’s face sent a swell of love through Piper’s chest. The older woman knew all too well the grief Piper had suffered all her life. Her mother didn’t even know the name of the man who had fathered her. How could she tell her grandmother that she’d lived in fear of repeating her mother’s mistakes? That she’d been embarrassed to even introduce her outrageously flirtatious mother to the young men she dated?