The Parson's Waiting

coming back and then there was the excitement of having you here and supervising all the work you’re doing to fix the place up. She could probably do with a day or two in bed.”
He fought the desire to snap at her again for thinking she knew what was best for Maisey. The troubling thing was that she probably did. At least she had echoed what Maisey had just told him herself. He wondered if his grandmother had passed along the same complaint to Anna Louise. He didn’t want to ask the next question that came to mind, but he had to. He didn’t regret the choices he’d made for his own life, but he hated to think of Maisey living some isolated, lonely existence with her only grandson off roaming the world.
“While I’ve been gone, has she been locked away up here all alone or has she been getting out?” he asked, trying not to let the depth of his concern show.
To his relief, Anna Louise chuckled. “If you think anyone could keep Maisey tied to this house, then you’ve misjudged her will. She walks down that hill every Tuesday for church circle and again on Sunday for services. She walks into town most days for the mail, rain or shine. Sometimes on the way back, she’ll stop by my place for a cup of tea.”
He regarded her in confusion. “She hasn’t done any of that since I’ve been home. Has she suddenly taken a turn for the worse? I knew I should have called Doc Benson when I found her still in bed this morning.” He started for the phone, but Anna Louise put out a hand to stop him.
“Wait a minute. I doubt she needs a doctor.”
“Will you make up your mind? One minute you say she’s worn out. The next you’re telling me she’s sprightly as a woman half her age. Which is it?”
“Maisey is almost eighty,” she reminded him. “Naturally she tires more easily than she once did. Yes, it’s true that she keeps herself busy, but she also knows how to pace herself. If I had to guess what’s going on with her now, I’d say she’s laying it on a little thick. I think she’s playing possum just a bit in the hope of keeping you around longer.”
Richard was bewildered by the apparent need for subterfuge. “But I promised her I’d stay as long as she needs me,” he said.
“Exactly. As long as she needs you.”
Suddenly all of the other hints of weakness, counterpointed against the high spirits whenever Anna Louise was around, began to make sense. He surmised that the frailty, or at least some of it, had been feigned for his benefit.
“Why that old rascal,” he muttered, taking things off of the tray and setting them on the table.
“What are you doing now?”
“We’re having breakfast. All of us,” he added emphatically. “Right here in this kitchen. Forget the soft-boiled egg she asked for. Scramble the eggs, would you? I’ll be back in a minute.”
He stalked into Maisey’s bedroom a moment later and found her reading a magazine, which she hurriedly tried to stuff under her pillow.
“Reading Soap Opera Update again?” he inquired.
She scowled at him. “Of course not.”
“Then why’d you hide it in such a rush? Afraid I’d discover you’re putting on an act?”
“What act?”
He leveled a look at her. “Maisey, how do you feel this morning? The truth.”
“I told you. I’m fine,” she said defensively.
“Just a little tuckered out?”
“Exactly.”
“Anna Louise is in the kitchen.”
Her expression brightened at once. “She is? Why didn’t you send her in?”
“I told her you were too exhausted for company. She and I will be having breakfast in there.”
“Oh.” Her voice and her expression went flat.
“You could join us,” he suggested casually. “If you’re up to it.”
She shot him a look of sudden comprehension. There wasn’t a hint of guilt on her face, though. “You’re entirely too smart for your britches, Richard Walton.”
“So they say,” he said smugly. “Shall we expect you in a few minutes?”
“I’ll be there. Get out the strawberry preserves. They’re Anna Louise’s favorite.”
“I’ll make note of that.” He grinned at her. “You have all the subtlety of a steamroller, Grandmother.”
“Well, somebody has to give a thought to your future. You certainly aren’t doing a thing about it. You’re never in one place long enough to meet a nice woman, much less court her.”
“If you think Anna Louise Perkins is in my future, then it’s your mental health we need to be worrying about.”
Maisey regarded him complacently. “I guess we’ll just see about that, won’t we?”
“Grandmother!”
“Oh, hush up, young man. You don’t scare me. Now get back to our company.”
“Company? To hear you tell it, Anna Louise is practically one of the family.”
“If I were you, I’d watch that smart tongue. We’ll just see who has the last laugh.”
She said it so smugly, Richard wondered if he’d make it through breakfast without Maisey getting a proposal on the table on his behalf.
* * *
Anna Louise scrambled a fresh batch of eggs and kept a pile of perfectly browned toast warm in the oven as she listened to the squabbling coming from Maisey’s bedroom. She couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying, but there was a cheerful, teasing tone to it that pleased her for Maisey’s sake. Having Richard home was a real tonic for her, better than any of the medication Doc Benson had prescribed.
She glanced up from the eggs when Richard strolled into the kitchen. “Is she feeling better?”
“The cure was almost instantaneous. She heard you were here.”
“She didn’t have to get out of bed to visit with me.”
“I don’t think you were precisely the incentive,” he said dryly.
She regarded him quizzically. “Oh?”
“I’m sure it will come as no surprise to you that Maisey has ideas for the two of us. She’s not about to miss an opportunity to see how her plans are coming along.”
Anna Louise could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks. “You must be mistaken,” she