said that?”
“Cedric. Who else?” Pete walked to his ball and lined up the shot. He chipped it onto the putting green.
Lincoln removed an iron from his golf bag and approached his ball. “Cedric should have been a fiction writer. He always has his own version of things.” He drew the club back and watched the ball bounce onto the green, then roll closer to the hole.
“So what’s your version? Did she put you in your place, or vice versa?”
“I plead the fifth.” With a grin, Lincoln turned to the caddie and exchanged his iron for a putter.
“Well, well, well. I guess you don’t need to say anything. That smile on your face is as self-incriminating as it can get. Do we need to have you and Miss Gregory over for dinner one evening?”
“No.” Lincoln shook his head and practiced a couple of putting shots. “Hannah Gregory might be a fascinating young woman, but she isn’t interested in the man who took her home.” He tapped the ball. It rolled two yards and circled the hole without going in. Emitting a groan, he tapped it. The ball dropped with a ping into the cup.
“It’s not like you to let one by.” Pete easily sank his putt, then shot Lincoln a challenging grin.
Lincoln handed his caddie the club. “Are you talking about my putt or Miss Gregory?”
“Both.” He wrapped his arm around Lincoln’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go get something to eat, and thanks to my last stellar putt, I believe you’re buying. But we need to hurry. Ever since that fire, Elise has been on edge.”
They started back to the clubhouse, and Lincoln consideredhow to ask about Elise’s mental health. She’d always been prone to periods of melancholy. “Is everything okay with Elise?”
Pete nodded. “She’s a little rattled, is all. She’s better since they made an arrest.”
“An arrest?”
“A disgruntled telegraph employee.” Pete tugged on the points of his vest. “And since Albert came home, I must say Elise’s spirits are better. One thing I know is that I’ll never send him away again. It’s too hard on her. She’s too fragile.”
Rounding a bend in the path, Lincoln picked up the pace. He grieved for Pete as he struggled to find answers to his wife’s and his son’s disturbances and melancholy.
“And how is Albert doing?” Like Pete, he’d hoped Albert’s stay at the special home in Germany would help him overcome any of the tendencies he’d inherited from his mother.
“The doctors there declared him cured.” Pete huffed and puffed up the last incline. “A complete success, they say.” They reached the clubhouse, and Pete paused at the door. “He seems like his old self. He’s talking of returning to college next year.”
“I hope he does. He’s a brilliant young man.”
Pete’s eyes lit up at the compliment. “And he needs to do something with his life so he can take care of me when I’m old.”
“ When you’re old?” Lincoln clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll always have me, old man.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hey!” Lincoln opened the door to the clubhouse. “For that, you’re buying your own steak.”
“I’ll buy if you promise to join Elise and me for Sunday dinner. You can see Albert for yourself and get reacquainted.”
“I’m not his favorite person, Pete. You know that.”
“I’m telling you, he’s changed. Come see for yourself.”
Lincoln smiled and agreed. He’d do anything Pete asked, including sitting through an uncomfortable dinner. He owed too much to the man, who’d been like a father to him, to ever say no to anything he asked.
The last notes from the closing hymn lingered in the air. Trying to remain inconspicuous, Hannah turned around and scanned the back of the church where the latecomers usually sat. No Lincoln. Disappointment rippled through her. But that was ridiculous. Why would she care if Lincoln Cole visited her congregation again?
Charlotte touched Hannah’s arm. “Where’s your friend
“Cedric. Who else?” Pete walked to his ball and lined up the shot. He chipped it onto the putting green.
Lincoln removed an iron from his golf bag and approached his ball. “Cedric should have been a fiction writer. He always has his own version of things.” He drew the club back and watched the ball bounce onto the green, then roll closer to the hole.
“So what’s your version? Did she put you in your place, or vice versa?”
“I plead the fifth.” With a grin, Lincoln turned to the caddie and exchanged his iron for a putter.
“Well, well, well. I guess you don’t need to say anything. That smile on your face is as self-incriminating as it can get. Do we need to have you and Miss Gregory over for dinner one evening?”
“No.” Lincoln shook his head and practiced a couple of putting shots. “Hannah Gregory might be a fascinating young woman, but she isn’t interested in the man who took her home.” He tapped the ball. It rolled two yards and circled the hole without going in. Emitting a groan, he tapped it. The ball dropped with a ping into the cup.
“It’s not like you to let one by.” Pete easily sank his putt, then shot Lincoln a challenging grin.
Lincoln handed his caddie the club. “Are you talking about my putt or Miss Gregory?”
“Both.” He wrapped his arm around Lincoln’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go get something to eat, and thanks to my last stellar putt, I believe you’re buying. But we need to hurry. Ever since that fire, Elise has been on edge.”
They started back to the clubhouse, and Lincoln consideredhow to ask about Elise’s mental health. She’d always been prone to periods of melancholy. “Is everything okay with Elise?”
Pete nodded. “She’s a little rattled, is all. She’s better since they made an arrest.”
“An arrest?”
“A disgruntled telegraph employee.” Pete tugged on the points of his vest. “And since Albert came home, I must say Elise’s spirits are better. One thing I know is that I’ll never send him away again. It’s too hard on her. She’s too fragile.”
Rounding a bend in the path, Lincoln picked up the pace. He grieved for Pete as he struggled to find answers to his wife’s and his son’s disturbances and melancholy.
“And how is Albert doing?” Like Pete, he’d hoped Albert’s stay at the special home in Germany would help him overcome any of the tendencies he’d inherited from his mother.
“The doctors there declared him cured.” Pete huffed and puffed up the last incline. “A complete success, they say.” They reached the clubhouse, and Pete paused at the door. “He seems like his old self. He’s talking of returning to college next year.”
“I hope he does. He’s a brilliant young man.”
Pete’s eyes lit up at the compliment. “And he needs to do something with his life so he can take care of me when I’m old.”
“ When you’re old?” Lincoln clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll always have me, old man.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hey!” Lincoln opened the door to the clubhouse. “For that, you’re buying your own steak.”
“I’ll buy if you promise to join Elise and me for Sunday dinner. You can see Albert for yourself and get reacquainted.”
“I’m not his favorite person, Pete. You know that.”
“I’m telling you, he’s changed. Come see for yourself.”
Lincoln smiled and agreed. He’d do anything Pete asked, including sitting through an uncomfortable dinner. He owed too much to the man, who’d been like a father to him, to ever say no to anything he asked.
The last notes from the closing hymn lingered in the air. Trying to remain inconspicuous, Hannah turned around and scanned the back of the church where the latecomers usually sat. No Lincoln. Disappointment rippled through her. But that was ridiculous. Why would she care if Lincoln Cole visited her congregation again?
Charlotte touched Hannah’s arm. “Where’s your friend
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