The Perfect Gift

Grammy’s gaze centered on Goldie’s neck. “You lost your locket, honey?”

“I’ve misplaced it, yes,” Goldie echoed, her smile waning. “I hope I dropped it at Rory’s house last night. I’ve explained to him how much it means to me.”

Grammy didn’t seem too concerned. She patted Goldie’s hand. “Well, lockets can be replaced. You can’t.”

Goldie pushed the cobwebs of regret out of her mind, deciding to think positively. With a wry grin, she said, “I am one of a kind.”

Grammy laughed at that. “You sure are.”

Rory just stood there, smiling his soft smile, his eyes so tigerlike, Goldie could almost feel sorry for alligators and armadillos.

“I’ll walk you out,” she said, getting up. Glad the dizziness wasn’t back, she slowly made her way around the antique mahogany dining table.

“Don’t overdo it now,” Grammy warned, but Goldie caught the gleam in her grandmother’s eyes.

Rory took her arm. “You don’t have to see me to the door. It’s cold out there.”

“I just wanted to thank you again, for all you’ve done,” Goldie said, a rare shyness taking over her tongue.

“Not a problem. Just be careful next time an ice storm hits, okay?”

“That might not happen again in a long time,” she replied, being reasonable. “But that’s the way things go for me—the first ice storm in Louisiana in years and I wind up on the worst road in the state.”

“Well, if it does happen again and you find yourself out near Branagan Road, you know where I live.”

A rush of something warm and satisfying moved down Goldie’s spine. “Yes, I sure do.”

“I’ll call you if I find the necklace,” he said, throwing up a hand in goodbye.

“Okay.”

She shut the door against the cold wind, bright red felt Christmas bows lifting out from the wreath she’d made to hang there, and she wondered if she’d ever see her necklace again.

And if she’d ever see this man again.

He planned on seeing her again.

Rory wasn’t sure if it was the chicken soup or the coconut pie or the blondish curls, but somewhere during the hour or so he’d spent with Goldie and her grandmother, he’d decided he’d like to get to know Goldie Rios a little better. Only he wasn’t so sure how to go about that.

I’m rusty on this stuff, Lord, he thought, his prayers as scattered as the frigid wind. He hadn’t considered dating anyone since Rachel’s death. In fact, he’d believed that to be an insult to his wife’s memory. And to her love for him and their boys.

But maybe he’d been wrong about that. Maybe the boys needed a mother’s touch. His own mother was a pretty terrific substitute and the boys loved her dearly, but well, a man needed a wife. Especially a man trying to raise two active sons. Telling himself to slow down, Rory pushed contemplations of finding a wife out of his mind. That would be wrong—to automatically think of Goldie in those terms when he’d only just met the woman.

Right now, he wouldn’t think beyond getting to know her. One day at a time, he reminded himself. After all, she was the first woman who’d even made him stop to consider dating again. And maybe he was just caught up in the whole thing—finding her on his couch, hurt and frightened, seeing that lost expression in her eyes when she told him about her locket and watching her wince as her grandmother bragged on her, going into detail about her life.

Goldie was obviously a smart, capable woman.

But from the look of things, she wasn’t anywhere near settling down to one man. One man with two rambunctious children.

“I’d better find that locket and get it back to her before I do something really dumb,” Rory said to himself.

Like ask her out on a date or something.

But that urge might be tougher to control than wrestling a gator had ever been.

“Grammy, I know that look,” Goldie said after Rory had left. “You’re up to matchmaking, aren’t you?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Ruth teased, her smile causing her dimples to deepen. “But you have to admit, Rory is a fine-looking man. And a good, solid Christian, too.”