Page 67 of Mending Fences
CHAPTER THIRTY
Candace let out a low whistle from where she stood scrambling eggs. “Jeans, girl? I can’t remember the last time I saw you in a pair.
“Daniel asked if I would go on a walk with him this morning, and he said he thought jeans would be better than a skirt.”
“You two didn’t talk as long as I thought you would last night.”
“Are you fishing for details?” Mandy poured herself a glass of milk.
“Definitely.” Candace moved the pan off the element.
“Then answer me this. Was last night a setup?”
Candace’s grin was answer enough. “One of the better ones I have ever tried, don’t you think? Poor Colin, having to back the car up into a tree. He did most of the work. I only had to get you to the store at the right time. Spill.”
“There isn’t much to spill. We dropped off groceries, had ice cream with the two of you, and agreed to talk more today. He explained things that happened in New York. I shouldn’t have paid so much attention to the tabloids. But you knew, didn’t you.”
Candace nodded. “Kissing?”
Mandy felt her face heat. “No kissing.”
“You are blushing.”
“What if I want to kiss him but I shouldn’t? It isn’t any fun being one of many. Even if I discount all his dates this year, there are still many others.” Mandy finished her milk. “I just need to say good-bye.”
“You realize he never looks at other women the way he does you? He is kind, but his eyes don’t go all soft. You can see it in the photos.”
They heard the truck in the driveway.
Candace tilted her head. “Should I be worried to send you out with him?”
Mandy grabbed a sweater. “No. I know what I am getting into this time.”
Daniel opened the door for Mandy to get into the truck. “Too bad you are still not wearing the boot.”
“What do you mean?” Mandy pulled on her seat belt.
“No excuse to hold you.” Daniel shut the door.
Drat. If he talked like that all morning, she was going to have a hard time saying good-bye. “So, you never told me where we are going.”
“Nope, it is a surprise. There are some clues in that folder on the dash.” Daniel backed out of the drive.
Mandy opened the folder. “Who is Noah Crawford?”
“My great-grandfather. In case you didn’t recognize it, Daniel Fowler is your great-grandfather.”
“So your great-grandfather gave my great-grandfather ten acres of land and a house?”
“That is how I read it.”
“Why?”
“Daniel Fowler saved Adam Crawford, Noah’s brother, during one of the battles of World War I. Then, after the war, he brought Adam home. Adam suffered from shell shock, or what we call PTSD. Noah was impressed by Daniel Fowler’s friendship and courage. In saving Adam, your great-grandfather lost his arm. Noah made him a manager of sorts over the farm and estate and gave him the land. I think there is more to the story. I have a researcher trying to find it, but Noah named his son Daniel. Technically as Daniel Noah Crawford the third, I am named for your great-grandfather.”
“Weird.” Mandy went back to reading. “I am terrible at legalese, but this says the property can never be sold.”
“Nope.”
