Lanterns and Lace by DiAnn Mills Page B

her.
    “Aunt Jenny.” Rebecca jumped from the chair and raced into the woman’s arms.
    A twinge of jealousy stabbed at his heart.
    “Rebecca, how good to see you.” Jenny bent to the little girl’s side and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
    “Thank you. Mimi said I was a prin . . . prin . . .” She glanced up at Grant.
    “Princess.”
    Rebecca’s shoulders lifted, and she nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”
    “You are indeed a princess.” Jenny laughed lightly, then lifted her gaze to Grant. “Thank you. This means so much to me.”
    The warmth from her eyes nearly took his breath away. And this second response to her made him more furious than the first. He must be working too hard. His normal methodical life had gotten beyond his control.
    “Is there a reason for you to visit me?” she said.
    “We want you to go to chuhch with us again,” Rebecca said.
    Jenny moistened her lips. “I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    Grant wondered how Jenny would talk her way out of this one. For a moment he felt sorry for her. His Rebecca practiced the art of tenacity.
    “Please,” the little girl said. “I’ll be very good for you.”
    Jenny laughed. “Does it mean that much to you?”
    Rebecca nodded.
    “All right. One more time.”
    Grant swallowed a bit of humor. In the next breath, he remembered how having Jenny seated beside him this past Sunday had caused his mind to wander. “Would you like to take a stroll?” Perspiration dampened his back.
    Jenny took Rebecca’s hand into hers. “I’d love to.”
    “Oh, goodie.” Rebecca slipped her other hand into Grant’s. “This is how me, Papa, and Mimi take walks.”
    Grant avoided glancing in Jenny’s direction. Anyone seeing the three of them together would jump to more conclusions than the clucking tongues last Sunday in church. He’d most likely read about it in the weekly Kahlerville Sun under the society column.
    “Jenny, wait, please.”
    The irritating voice of Aubrey Turner splattered on Grant like walking under a tree full of blackbirds.
    She turned to face him but didn’t release Rebecca’s hand.
    “Did you forget?” Turner said.
    Confusion passed over her face. “Forget what?”
    “Our stroll through town.” He smiled at Grant and patted Rebecca on the head, right atop her perfectly tied hair ribbon.
    “We had nothing arranged.”
    He laughed lightly. “You are so much like Jessica. She had problems remembering our special times, too.”
    It didn’t matter that Jenny had chosen him and Rebecca over Turner. Grant simply wanted to be free of both of them.
    “I’m sorry to interrupt your plans,” Grant said. “We can do this another time.”
    “Absolutely not.” Jenny’s eyes blazed, and crimson rose from the neck of her high-collared white blouse. “Mr. Turner, we did not have anything arranged, and I do not appreciate the claims that we did.” She met Grant’s gaze. “Shall we continue?”
    “Then will you join me for the evening meal?” Turner said. “I am determined to have you accept my marriage proposal.” He nodded at Grant. “We could provide a fine home for Jessica’s daughter.”
    Grant fought the urge to lay a fist alongside Turner’s face and toss him into a pile of horse manure. “You, sir, will never be a part of my daughter’s life.” He swallowed hard and took in the man’s tan suit, white gloves, and ruffled shirt. He belonged back East or, better yet, on a leaky riverboat.
    “I see you aren’t in agreement with Jenny’s plans.” He turned to Jenny. “Dinner at seven?”
    “No, thank you,” Jenny said and walked to the door.
    “You do not have to alter your plans for us,” Grant said once they were outside.
    “You don’t understand,” she said. “We had no such arrangement. I loathe the man, but he insists upon making these outlandish statements and humiliating me.”
    Turner’s lying about his dealings with Jenny stamped upon Grant’s mind. “Why does