AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mr. Davis breathed out slowly. “About a year ago, I received a postcard with no return address on it. It was a Medford postmark, though. There was a very short message, and it was signed by Susan.”
Carly gasped, and Anita could only stare.
“What did the message say?” Carly asked.
Apparently Mr. Davis wasn’t holding anything back from his new confidante. “She wrote, ‘I hope life is swell. Sincerely, Susan.’ No last name, but it could only be her.”
“Did she spell ‘sincerely’ right?”
Mr. Davis chuckled. “She did.”
“Are you talking about that postcard again, Gramps?” a man said, approaching their table.
Anita could only assume he was Mr. Davis’s grandson—a man in his mid-thirties, with dark blond hair and green eyes. Wyatt didn’t look like an accountant, unless a Clark Kent-type was an accountant.
His looks and height made her wonder if his grandmother or mother had been blonde with green eyes? Had their daughter been too? Wyatt was tall, over six feet, and Anita guessed Mr. Davis to be around five ten. Not that a grandson couldn’t be several inches taller than a grandfather, but it just made her all the more curious.
She assured herself that her curiosity had nothing to do with the fact that Wyatt was a good-looking man, who wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. She pushed that thought away because it was a thought that should have never entered her mind, and she was just here with her daughter to get service hours in.
“Wyatt, you made it.” Mr. Davis extended his hand.
Wyatt grasped it, but also leaned close to hug the man. “I told you I was coming.”
“You did.” Mr. Davis patted his grandson on the back. “But I know you’ve been busy lately with tax season.”
“If I can’t take Sundays off to visit my grandpa, what’s the meaning of life?” Wyatt shed the suitcoat he wore over a button-down shirt, then took a seat on the other side of his grandfather.
Mr. Davis grinned. “You didn’t take the day off, did you?”
“I’m taking the afternoon off,” Wyatt said.
“My grandson’s an accountant, you know,” Mr. Davis said. “Which means April is his busiest month with corporate taxes, and that’s like a demanding wife.”
Wyatt raised his hands. “Whoa, Gramps. Talk nice about my wife.”
The interchange between grandfather and grandson was definitely interesting, Anita decided.
“Do you save companies from bankruptcy?” Carly asked.
Wyatt’s green eyes cut to her. “Not exactly. That’s for their lawyers to handle. I just run the numbers and file their taxes, for better or for worse. Who are you? New friends?”
“This is Carly and her mom, Anita,” Mr. Davis said. “Carly is an expert Scrabble player and an artist like her mother.”
Wyatt’s brows lifted and his gaze focused solely on Anita. She didn’t know why she felt scrutinized. Maybe it was the accountant in him?
“You’re an artist?”
“I am.” It was a simple question, but it also felt like a loaded one.
Wyatt surveyed the table, then looked at her again. “Are you running today’s craft event?” He picked up one of the paintbrushes.
“No, I create portraits for individual clients.”
Wyatt nodded, but a line had appeared between his brows.
“She uses stuff from our garden,” Carly said. “Stuff I help plant.”
Wyatt met her gaze. “So it’s a collaborative effort?”
