Page 44 of The Party Line

“Comedy or Westerns, for the most part, and so do I,” I replied. “She said that watching funny shows made her forget the sad times, and Westerns took her back in time.”

Connor nodded. “Then let’s watch whatever y’all liked.”

“How aboutMcLintock!?” I said as I flipped through movies and sitcoms.

“I’ve never seen that one. Grandpa introduced me to every old Western that was out there, so I don’t know how he missed that one,” Connor said.

I pulled my feet up on the sofa and got comfortable. “You might as well take off your shoes.”

“Are we good enough friends for me to do that?” he teased.

“You brought cheesecake and wine, so I would say that we are.”

“And muffins on Saturday,” he reminded me.

As we watched the movie, I stole long sideways glances at him and wondered what was preventing me from trusting him. Was it what Jasper had said after the backyard brawl, or maybe my own commitment issues? I had told myself that my past relationships ended because I had gotten tired of putting time and energy into something that had no future. But maybe the reason went deeper than that.

Those thoughts brought me right back around to Aunt Gracie and the question that seemed to have no answer: Why didn’t she ever get married and have children? I understood that Aunt Gracie felt like Mama was her daughter and I was her granddaughter. But could she really have been satisfied with her adopted family, or did she never have one of her own because of the secret?

I was going in circles, and it was exhausting. In that very moment, I decided that whatever the secret was, it belonged in the past—maybe even in the grave with Aunt Gracie. It wasn’t mine to find or to figure out. I loved her like a grandmother, and she loved me. That was all that was important. That did not mean I wasn’t interested in knowing more about her past life—just not in chasing my tail wondering about it.

But what if this big secret is that the ghost in this house spreads mistrust among the women who live here?the pesky voice in my head asked.

I shivered at the idea, yet it had enough relevance to bear paying attention to.

“Cold?” Connor scooted over closer to me and pulled a crocheted throw from the back of the sofa to spread over both of us.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

He slipped an arm around my shoulders but didn’t take his eyes off the television. “I was getting a little chilly, too. I’ve always loved John Wayne. Moviemaking has sure come a long way from whenever this was made. I’d like to see it redone with today’s technology.”

“I’d go to the theater to see it, for sure,” I said.

Redone today?

Those two words stuck in my mind. If Aunt Gracie had gone through that crisis today, would it be such a big thing? Or would social media blow it up for a day or two, then replace it with something even more spectacular, like what color nail polish or hair dye a famous person had used that very day?

“Happily ever after,” Connor said when the movie ended. “Be nice if”—he paused and took a deep breath—“if people like you and me could overcome the obstacles life throws at them and find happiness.”

“Well, that came out of left field. I’m not so sure I understand where you are going with this,” I said.

“I’m a little bitter about getting discharged from the service, and you think I’m only trying to get this house and your land. Two big obstacles right there. I like you, Lila—a lot—but we’ve both got baggage.”

“I like you, too, Connor, but like I said before, I need time to work out things in my mind.”

He gently cupped my face in his hands. “Maybe we can both help each other through whatever is holding us back from commitment.” His eyes locked with mine. “Think we might be more than friends?”

My heart raced. “It all depends.”

“On what?”

“This first kiss.” I threw caution to the wind and listened to my heart, even though I knew he might think it was out of the blue. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his lips to mine.

The sparks I had felt before were nothing compared to the heat the kiss generated and I wished it would never end—but it did.

“Well?” Connor asked.

“I’d give it a five out of ten,” I whispered.

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