The Valentine Grinch (4 page)

Amanda gripped the steering wheel. “So Morty only
had one wife?”

“Of course, dear. He’s not a scoundrel.” Grandma
smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. “Before I met your grandfather
in grade school, Morty was my best friend. Our parents were
neighbors and we played together in the crib.”

Immediately, Amanda thought of Dane. “Really?”

“Morty claims I was his first love. He’s such a
sweet man. Always sending me flowers and writing me love
notes.”

“Fricking Morty,” Grandpa George moaned from the
back seat and at the sound of his voice, Amanda jumped. She glanced
in the rear view mirror and saw the glower on his face. “First it
was the playground. Always had to outdo everyone. Swing higher. Go
faster on the merry-go-round. Then when he figured out I loved your
grandmother—”

He stopped in mid-sentence, crossed his arms and set
his mouth in a mulish line.

Amanda gripped the steering wheel even tighter.
There had to be some way to appease the grumpy ghost in the
backseat. An idea occurred to her and she glanced over at her
passenger. “But you love Gramps the most, right?”

Grandma smiled sadly and stroked a hand across the
top of the urn. “Of course, but he’s gone now and I’m lonely.”

“Fricking bastard, fricking bastard, fricking
bastard.” Grandpa kicked at the backseat. His foot came through the
console beside Amanda and she jumped again.

Grandma gripped Amanda’s arm and gave it a small
shake. “What’s wrong with you, girl? You’re nervous as a mouse
trying to steal cheese out of a trap. Have you been eating too much
sugar?”

“No, Grandma, it’s nothing. Everything is hunky
dory. It’s just, you know how much I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Just like George. He hated the day, too. Thought it
was all about the price of the gift. He treated it like a
competition, as though he had to outdo his friends, especially
Morty. Eventually, he adopted his anti-Valentine’s attitude and
refused to even acknowledge the day.” Grandma released her arm and
turned to stare out the side window. “Valentine’s Day is about
finding love and sharing it with someone special. It’s about not
being alone.”

Alone.
Amanda knew all about being alone.

She steered the car into the
cemetery parking lot, looked for Dane’s truck, but it was nowhere
in sight. Good, it would give her more time to talk with her
grandma. She shifted on the seat to face the elderly woman. “I
think I understand. When I moved to the city and left all of you
behind, it was a difficult adjustment.”

“I was married to your Grandpa George for fifty-one
years and then, one day he was gone. I wasn’t prepared and I was
lost for a very long time.”

“I hope one day I find what you had with
Gramps.”

Amanda heard her grandma sniffle and realized that
the older woman was lucky she’d found someone to share her life
with, no matter her age. Maybe there was a way to convince Grandpa
to let Grandma go.

Oh yeah, she could already hear his voice in her
head.

Traitor
.

By now, Grandpa had worked himself into an angry
knot of frustration and Amanda felt a little heartsick. While he’d
hated Valentine’s Day, he’d loved his wife without question.

Beside her, Grandma rifled through her purse and
pulled out an envelope yellowed with age. “While we’re waiting, you
can read this.”

Amanda took the envelope. “What is it?”

“A love note.”

“From Gramps?” Amanda pulled a tissue thin piece of
paper out of the envelope, carefully opened it up and frowned in
confusion. It was covered with hand drawn images of smooching lips
and Valentine hearts. Totally un-Gramps-like. She read the note out
loud. “Be My Valentine.”

Grandma released a blissful sigh. “Morty gave me
that note when we were in the first grade.”

“Flowers and love notes?” Grandpa roared from the
back seat. “She said those things weren’t important. How could she
have lied to me all these years?”

Amanda folded the note, slid it into the envelope
and passed it back. “Grandma, I’m confused. Why did you tell Gramps
that love notes and chocolates and Valentine hearts were
unimportant to you?”

“What woman doesn’t love those things?” She glanced
over at Amanda and smiled. “I’ll bet even you get giddy when
someone special gives you something nice.”

“Well sure, but why didn’t you tell Grandpa the
truth?”

“Because George wasn’t the romantic type. He worked
hard and provided for his family. Isn’t that enough to expect from
a man?” Grandma glanced her way again. “We never went without,
Amanda, and we didn’t need the words to know we were loved.”

A midnight blue half ton truck pulled into the empty
parking space in front of them. Dane climbed out of the cab, gave a
quick wave, then headed around to the passenger side to assist his
grandfather. He looked tall and strong and yummy, and Amanda
recalled the way her heart had thumped when he’d wrapped his arms
around her and given her a welcome-home hug.

Desire pulsed between her legs.

She wiggled against the seat and willed her body to
cool down.

Dane helped his grandfather out of the truck and as
Morty Weatherby set his feet on the pavement, his shoulders
hunched, a cane in his hand to steady his balance, Grandma swooned
like a sixteen year old in the throes of her first crush. “Isn’t he
handsome?”

In the backseat, Grandpa George snorted. “Morty’s a
wimp. A wussy. A girlie-man.”

Grandma pulled on the door handle. “Come along,
dear. We don’t want to keep our men waiting.”

Our men? She shook her head. Dane didn’t belong to
her. They’d never had that kind of relationship. “I’ll be right
there, Grandma. Watch out for the ice.”

While Grandma climbed out of the vehicle to scurry
across the parking lot to meet her fiancée, Amanda turned toward
the back seat and leaned against the car door. “Are you okay,
Grandpa?”

“She said she loved me. She promised never to love
another.” He kicked at the backseat, his foot once again coming
through the console, but this time Amanda was ready for it and
barely jumped at all.

She reached out to pat his arm, but her hand went
through him, so she dropped her hand on her lap. “The
love-you-forever vows ended when you died.”

“Elvira, my honey, my dear darling wife,” Grandpa
George moaned, the shadows of his face elongated by the depths of
his sorrow. “You have to stop her, bumpkin. She’s insane with
grief. She’d have to be insane to marry that bastard Morty.”

Amanda thought of the silly love note that had made
her grandma smile like a young woman in love. “You lied to me,
Gramps. Morty only had one wife.”

“Would you have listened to me otherwise?” He didn’t
wait for her answer. “Tell her I’m still here. Tell her I still
love her.”

“She’ll think I’m insane.”

“God damn it, Amanda. Tell her I forbid her to marry
that old fool Morty.” He dropped his head into the curve of his
open hands and mumbled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you like
that. I’d like to be alone for a while, if you don’t mind.”

“It’ll be okay, Gramps.” She hooked a thumb over her
shoulder. “I’ll just be over there, if you come up with a better
plan.”

The door behind her swung open and she would’ve
fallen backward into the snow if Dane hadn’t been there to catch
her under the arms. Startled, she stared up at him and he stared
back at her and, for just a moment, she thought she saw something
more in his gaze, something that warmed her body and made her think
of the wow factor.

Oh, and hot sweaty sex. With him. Preferably not in
the backseat of her mom’s car.

She focused on the intensity of his gaze. “Hey
there.”

He blinked back. “Your grandma sent me to see if you
were getting out of the car.”

“I’m half there.” She smiled up at him. “You look
weird upside down.”

“So do you. It makes your nose look big and your
chin crooked. Kind of grinchy.”

She laughed. “Thanks. I appreciate your
honesty.”

“No problem. What are best friends for?” He pulled
her the rest of the way out of the car and stood her on her
feet.

Amanda glanced back in the car, saw her grandpa
still brooding and softly closed the door. She looked past Dane,
where Grandma and Morty were stomping through the snow toward a
distant area. “Well, I guess we should join them.”

Dane stuffed his hands into the pockets of his
jacket and fell into step beside her. “So what do you really think
about your grandma marrying my grandpa?”

She shot a glance his way, noting with appreciation
that he’d matched his long stride to her shorter one. “It seems
like it happened awfully quick.”

He shrugged, his broad shoulders shifting beneath
the jacket, sending something wickedly smooth to her stomach. “At
their age, I guess they don’t have a lot of time to waste with all
the usual dating rituals.”

“You mean flowers and love notes? Like Be My
Valentine?”

He quirked one brow at her, the expression on his
face bland. “You saw the note.”

“I did. And if you ever give me a note like that, we
are so over and done with.”

“Good to know.” His mouth turned up into a naughty
grin and something inside of her melted. “Your mom is hoping
Elvira’s wedding will give you some ideas.”

In the middle of her meltdown, his words make her
choke. Beneath her jacket, she started to sweat, embarrassed. “She
told you that?”

“Another wedding, bumpkin?”

Amanda jerked back, surprised by Grandpa’s
appearance. “No.”

Dane stopped and faced her, a disappointed
expression on his face. “Right. You’re not the type of woman who’s
going to appreciate the significance of a man getting down on one
knee to propose. You’re so unromantic, Mandy.”

“And all the commercialism surrounding the holiday
is romantic?” she scoffed, feeling defensive. “What’s so romantic
about flowers that last less than a week? Or a ring that costs more
than a small car?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “You know, I never
quite understood why you felt like this.”

She dropped her gaze to her boots and scuffed her
toe against the snow, thinking about what her grandma had said.
Forcing her gaze upward, past the long length of Dane’s legs, past
the wide breadth of his shoulders, she met his compassionate gaze.
“I guess because every time I had my heart crushed, Gramps was
there to make me feel better. He’d hold my hand until I stopped
crying, and tell me love couldn’t be bought.”

Beside her, Grandpa roared, “Why is Morty holding my
urn?”

Amanda spun around. Sure enough, Grandma had handed
Mr. Weatherby the urn. Leaving Dane, with his questions and his
assumptions, she sprinted toward the older couple and skidded to a
stop in front of them. “Hello, Mr. Weatherby. How are you? Here,
let me hold that for you.”

And before anyone could object, she slipped the urn
from his arms into her own.

As she shifted the heavy box, she glanced at her
Grandpa and hoped he was satisfied. At least he was no longer
glowering at Morty, so she turned back to the elderly couple. “Have
you found anything?”

Morty stomped on the snow beneath his feet. “I like
this area. What do you think, Elvira?”

Grandma walked around the plot. “Look at the
drainage. George always said he didn’t want to get his feet
wet.”

Dane took the urn out of Amanda’s hands and she
ignored her grandpa’s shout of outrage. How did her grandma carry
it around all of the time? And more importantly, why was she
carrying it around now? For the last fourteen years, it had been
sitting on her dresser.

She quickened her steps to keep up to her grandma.
“It’s higher ground over here.”

Grandma hooked her arms through Amanda’s. “I want it
to face east because your grandpa was an early riser. He always
enjoyed watching the sun rise in the morning.”

“You’re going to miss him, aren’t you, Grandma?”

Grandma wiped a tear away from the edge of her eye.
Amanda saw her sneak a glance over her shoulder, where Dane was
helping Morty through the snow. She leaned closer and whispered,
“Am I being an old fool or am I doing the right thing? I feel like
I’m putting George out with the garbage.”

“You deserve to be happy.” Amanda gave her grandma a
quick hug. “It’s okay. It’s not like he died yesterday.”

“You’re right, of course. George wouldn’t expect me
to be unhappy and lonely for the rest of my life.” Grandma let go
of her arm to bend down and look at a headstone. “I’d like him to
know his neighbors.”

“See, bumpkin, she still loves me.” Grandpa appeared
beside Grandma and squatted down near the headstone. “Who’s this,
Elvira? Someone we know?”

Grandma jerked upright and with a confused frown on
her face, turned toward Morty and Dane. “Did one of you change your
aftershave?”

Dane shook his head, as did his grandfather. Morty
stepped forward, right through Grandpa George — who disappeared in
a poof — and took Elvira’s hands. “What is it, my dear? You look
distressed.”

“It’s...I...” She leaned toward Morty, sniffed
around his neck and shook her head. “Never mind. I’m being silly. I
thought I could smell George’s aftershave.”

Grandpa popped up beside Amanda. “How is that
possible, bumpkin?”

Morty patted Elvira’s hands and gave her a peck on
the cheek. “Maybe there’s still some on his urn. Once you put his
ashes to rest, my sweet, you’ll feel much better.”

“What if I don’t? Are we doing the right thing,
Morty?” She slid the urn out of Dane’s arms into her own and
clutched it tight to her chest.

Morty patted her on the arm. “Elvira, dearest,
George wouldn’t want you to pine for him forever.”

“Yes, I would,” Grandpa George
roared, then jumped at Morty, passed right through him, and landed
chest first on the snow.