The Secret Agent's Surprises

“Josiah,” he repeated.

“Josiah, it isn’t good to listen to idle gossip. You of all people should know that.”

He smiled again, searching her face with keen eyes, showing no remorse at all for putting her on the spot. The wily old rancher was everything people said he was, and yet, she somehow found him endearing.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “it was worth a try.”

“What was worth a try?”

He stood and put out a hand so that he could gently take her hand in his. “I was hoping it was you, but there are other women who might be interested in my renegade son, Pete. He’s a good-looking man—strong, tall, tough. Ladies like that sort, don’t they? The strong, silent type? And yet sophisticated and endearing, like Cary Grant. Yes, I’d say the best of John Wayne and Cary Grant.” He grinned at her. “I’m just the proud pop, though. Maybe women aren’t looking for good-looking, strong, independent rascals anymore.”

She really didn’t know what to say to such audacity. There was no doubt Pete was a sexy man. She’d been wildly attracted to him when she’d met him in January. He was indeed very handsome, and his devil-may-care attitude drew her in. Tall, long-haired, with eyes of glacial blue—his very face spelled danger. She shivered, remembering. He’d come across like a tough guy, but when he wanted to be charming—and he’d definitely been charming—a woman knew she’d take off her dress pretty fast for him. He’d not made any moves on her, not really. In fact, he’d seemed bent on making Dane jealous over Suzy, and so Priscilla had felt safe.

But it was the gleam in Pete’s eye when he looked at her sometimes that let her know his charms could be dangerous—if he hadn’t been treating her like a sister, for Suzy’s sake. In other words, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

There was no way this would work. Josiah couldn’t possibly understand. Families had their share of matchmaking enthusiasts, busybodies and downright meddlesome fussbudgets bent on having their own way. At least Josiah didn’t hide his intentions. Wouldn’t his scheming make Pete mad? Priscilla studied Josiah and wondered.

Was the old man really looking for forgiveness—or was Josiah angling for more grandchildren?

Chapter Two

Two days later Priscilla wasn’t feeling very forgiving. Under new rules—and a revised estimation of the value of her real estate, thanks to new bank software—Priscilla learned the value of her home and business had sunk by forty thousand dollars. In the blink of an eye, she’d lost the foothold she thought she’d been gaining. Real estate was supposed to keep its value, if not go up, but with current economic conditions, banks were tightening lending standards and the way they evaluated properties.

Her situation wouldn’t have been so devastating except that she’d been counting on her home to provide equity for her tea shop. The loss of forty thousand would put her out of business.

“Fine,” she told her friend Deacon Cricket Jasper, who’d come over for tea and a visit. “I’ll go back to doing what I was doing before I became a small businesswoman. I’ll work for the government crunching numbers in some dreary office. At least I’ll have some retirement funds put away.”

“I don’t know,” Cricket said, looking around the wing of the home that served as the shop. “You’ve done pretty well, and this place is popular. Get an outside appraisal and ask for a home equity line of credit at a different bank.”

Priscilla considered that. “No one’s lending money these days, certainly not to take a chance on a tiny tea shop and etiquette lessons.” The thought depressed her. Her heart was in her business. “I’d be in trouble if people were to suddenly cut back on parties and etiquette lessons for their children. Maybe it’s better this way.”

Cricket nodded. “One of my favorite sayings is that when God closes a door, he opens a window.”

Priscilla smiled. “You’re a good friend to remind me.” She glanced around her pretty little shop. The walls were painted a light, cheery pink. White tables sat here and there, inviting conversation; two pink-and-white-striped antique sofas lined the walls for intimate groupings. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminated by tiny purple bulbs hidden around the ceiling tray so that soft amethyst light bathed the crystals of the chandelier and reflected the hue on the ceiling. It was a comforting place. At night, when the shop was closed, she liked to sit in here with a good book, a side-table lamp lighting the pages. “It was just such a shock when I talked to the man at the bank. He was so sympathetic, but I felt bad. I’m not the only person this has happened to, so I don’t intend to feel sorry for myself, but it wasn’t welcome news.” Priscilla took a deep breath. “However, I also liked my friends in the government office. I’ll be fine.”

Cricket stood and hugged her. “It will all work out. In the meantime you can always go see what Mr. Morgan had up his sleeve. There’s usually money involved when he wants to pawn off one of his sons.”

Priscilla laughed, surprised, and shook her head. “As much as I liked him, I fear Josiah is a one-man con game. Truthfully, the games he’s up to are beyond my scope.”

“Yet he has such amazing success, especially with those hardheaded boys of his. Wouldn’t it be an old movie plot if he was behind this loan problem?” Cricket went out on the porch, opening her polka-dot umbrella. “This is the coldest and dreariest February I think I’ve ever seen in Fort Wylie.”

“Mr. Morgan might be a busybody, but he wouldn’t deliberately sabotage my business,” Priscilla said, laughing.

“I know. I was being dramatic. I think it’s the weather.” Water puddled at the base of the porch as the rain came down harder.

“Drive carefully,” Priscilla said. “The roads can be slick.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll be praying for you.” Cricket cast a glance back through the door longingly. “It’s so comfortable in your shop that I hate to leave. I can’t stand the thought that it might not be here much longer.”

Priscilla waved goodbye, not sure what to say about that. She’d heard of several people in Fort Wylie having money woes—her situation was better than most.

She went inside to examine some financial statements and see what she could come up with.

P ETE M ORGAN sat on a military plane mulling over his prospects. The last thing he wanted was to return home to the Morgan ranch, but he’d been offered a million dollars to do so, as had his brothers. Gabe and Dane had fallen under the spell of money and lovely women, but Pete was harder, more stubborn. He wouldn’t have been a secret agent if he weren’t tough as steel, a trait he’d inherited from the old man. Maybe that was the only good thing he’d ever gotten from Pop. The old goat had wanted his boys tough, and that was how they’d turned out.

The oldest son, Jack, wasn’t in touch with anyone in the family. He called the rodeo circuit home. Pete had no home at the moment. After he’d finished his assignment and been debriefed, he’d had time to ponder his life. He was glad he was retiring, not sorry it was all over. He was happy enough, if any of the Morgans knew what happiness was. Gabe and Dane were certainly new men since their marriages.

Maybe that was what he was missing.

Pete pushed the thought from his mind. That was Pop talking, getting in his head with his desire for more grandchildren, somehow wanting the past to be overlooked.

Pete had no intention of caving. He decided he’d find Jack, pay him a visit. Maybe he’d become a rancher like his brothers, throw in a little real-estate venturing like Pop. Surely Jack had to be getting tired, too. Pete felt his own thirty years sitting on him like a weight, or perhaps it was the traveling that had worn him down. When he was younger, his job had made him feel very important. Now he just felt exhausted. Maybe it was the absence of light in his life—and why that miserable thought made him think of Miss Manners, the wonderfully elusive and prissy Priscilla Perkins, he wasn’t sure.

“W ONDERED IF YOU’D ever get around to visiting me,” Josiah Morgan said to Priscilla two days later, his eyes gleaming. “You’re wanting to hear my plan, I expect.”

“Mr. Morgan, I might just be paying a call on you to be kind. I could have a business proposition for you myself.” She seated herself in the massive den of the Morgan house, located just outside Union Junction. It was different here now that Josiah had taken up residence—the house felt more like a home. Last month, he’d been living in France. He said he’d sold his knight’s templary for a handsome profit and moved back home to spend time with his new grandchildren. But while he’d been in France, Priscilla, Cricket and Suzy had spent lovely days vacationing in this house, helping Suzy keep distance between herself and Dane.

Instead of keeping their distance, Suzy and Dane had gotten married, and the women’s friendships had grown stronger. Priscilla hadn’t known Suzy and Cricket as well then as she did now, and the time spent together was a memory she treasured. They’d baked cookies, played with Suzy’s kids, teased the Morgan brothers. “We never did get the new curtains done for this house,” Priscilla said. “We meant to. We were on the way to the fabric store when we saw Jack—”

She stopped, remembering the bad blood between Josiah and his oldest son. Josiah’s gaze sharpened.

“You saw my son?”

“Well, it wasn’t an intentional meeting,” she said hurriedly. “Now, back to your plan—”

“How did you see him? Where was he?” Josiah demanded.

“He was hitchhiking. We only saw him for a moment, truly. However, I didn’t come all the way out to Union Junction to discuss Jack,” she said, injecting impatience into her tone to try to move him off the personal topic she knew was painful. “Shall we get back to the purpose of your earlier visit to me?”

“How did he look?” Josiah asked, ignoring her pointed request.

“Handsome,” she said simply. “Ornery. Full of life. Not interested in talking to us once he found out we were living here. He wasn’t in the car long enough for us to learn much.”

Josiah sighed. “So much like me.”

“Handsome? Or ornery?”

He winked at her. “You’re a bit of a minx, aren’t you?”

“Flattery won’t hurt if it gets you away from worrying about your sons. And I may as well hear your proposal. I admit to some curiosity.”

“Which killed the cat, but in this case, there happen to be extra lives.” Chuckling, he waved a hand to indicate that she pour the brandy sitting on a crystal tray between them. “Miss Perkins, there are four children in the county who are going into foster care. Their parents died last week in an auto accident. Very sad.” He looked distressed.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She met his gaze. “Did you know them?”

“I only met the parents once when Ralph Wright came out to buy a steer from me. They lived on a neighboring ranch, you know, more homesteaders than ranchers. Young couple, big dreams. Wanted a country life for their children. They’d been trying for a child for years, it seemed. Ralph mentioned that his wife Nancy, had surgery that helped. He beamed just talking about her pregnancy. They were very much looking forward to their new family, as you might imagine.” He swallowed thickly.

“That is very sad,” Priscilla said, her heart breaking for the children who had lost their parents. “It’s going to be very hard on the poor babies.”