Page 80 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell (Rock Canyon, Idaho 7)

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Around four that afternoon, Gracie pulled up to the small house in Filer that belonged to Margaret, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. It had been over two weeks since she’d seen Pip, and she wondered whether their short time together had really made that much of an impact on her.

She stepped up onto the front porch and knocked lightly on the door, a festive bag in her other hand and a box in brightly wrapped paper on her hip. She’d picked something up for Margaret the day after meeting her and hoped she wouldn’t be uncomfortable with it.

The door opened, and Gracie smiled at Margaret, who stepped back to let her pass. “Come on in. She’s—”

A high-pitched squeal echoed in the small living room, and Gracie set down the Christmas presents just in time to scoop Pip up in her arms. The child buried her face in Gracie’s neck, and Gracie inhaled sharply, her eyes burning with tears of joy.

“I missed you, Pip. So very much.”

She couldn’t pry Pip’s clasped hands away from the back of her neck to look at her, so she just carried her over to the couch and sat. Margaret’s home was filled with shelves featuring dusty knickknacks and worn furniture sparsely displayed around the room. On the floor were old wooden blocks Pip must have been playing with.

Gracie met Margaret’s gaze, noting the sadness in the other woman’s eyes, and reached out a hand. Margaret took it and sat beside her.

“I brought you each a Christmas present,” Gracie said.

The word present didn’t faze Pip, but Margaret immediately started to protest. “Now, you didn’t have to bring me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to. Yours is the bag, and the box is for Jocelyn.”

Margaret went to pick up the dropped parcels, and Pip turned on Gracie’s lap to accept her box. As Margaret pulled out a beautiful barn-wood picture frame, Gracie said, “I thought we could get your picture taken with Jocelyn so she would always remember you.”

Tears rolled down Margaret’s weathered face. “Thank you, honey. It’s beautiful.”

Pip was pulling at the bow on the top of the package, and Gracie spoke softly over her head. “I was wondering if your family had contested your decision?”

Margaret’s lips thinned. “No. I’ve already had my will drafted and signed by my lawyer. The only thing they want from me is what they can sell.”

Gracie couldn’t understand what this woman had done to raise children who didn’t care that their mother was dying. She was so warm and loving.

“If you want, you can join my parents and me for Christmas.”

Margaret shook her head. “I appreciate it, but despite their faults, I love my family.”

“Of course.” Gracie helped Pip finish unwrapping, worried she’d overstepped with Margaret. When they opened the box together, Pip immediately went for the toy Gracie had bought her while Gracie pulled out the dress, coat, tights, and shoes for Margaret to see. The red-green-and-white plaid dress had a poofy skirt and puffed sleeves was going to be adorable on Pip.

“How cute,” Margaret said.

“Just let me know when you want your pictures done. My friend Ryan is a photographer and is going to do your session free of charge.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Yes, you can. It’s already handled,” Gracie said firmly.

Pip got off her lap to play with her toy on the floor. As she pushed the animal train around, Gracie reached out her hand and took Margaret’s once more.

“I know we don’t know each other, but anything you need, just ask.”

Margaret was watching Pip with tear-filled eyes. “Just take care of my great-granddaughter when I’m gone. That’s what I really need.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“When people talk about being “love sick,” it makes the emotional upheaval sound terrible. Who wants to be sick with anything?” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

On Monday, Gracie covered her face with her forearm just as a loud sneeze exploded. She sniffled and took Mrs. Andrews’s money while the older woman stared at her with narrowed eyes.

When she tried to give her the change, Mrs. Andrews shook her head. “You keep it, and while you’re at it, go home! No one wants your diseased hands touching their food and drink.”

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