For a moment, Colt thought he noticed the old man’s cheeks tinge pink. But it could’ve been from the steam curling above the brim of the mug.
Frank took a languid sip, showing marked improvement in using his left hand since his fall. Setting the mug on the TV stand situated near the recliner, he nodded toward his desk. “Bring me the laptop.”
Dutifully, Colt brought the laptop along with a bamboo tray to rest it on. As he flipped it open in front of Frank, the screen flickered to life.
Startled by the image on display, Colt darted his gaze to the old man’s face. No doubt about it—his weathered cheeks were decidedly rosy.
Frank cleared his throat. “I need you to pick this up for me.”
Glancing back at the listing, Colt noticed the antiques store was located in San Francisco. The errand would take most of the day. But for something this important? It was definitely worth it.
“It will be my pleasure.”
“Thank you,” Frank grunted, visibly uncomfortable.
As Colt returned the laptop to the desk and wrote down the pertinent information, he couldn’t help a smile.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had big plans for the future.
Chapter 28
Since reading her father’s letter, Penny found it difficult to go about her daily tasks as if nothing happened, when everything had changed in an instant.
And the longer she spent cataloging and pricing new antiques, the more the niggling idea in the back of her mind solidified into a fully-fledged plan.
Entering the store from the storage room, Penny discovered Bree draping a vintage evening gown over a decorative dress form. The girl sighed dreamily as the blush-colored silk folds fell to the ground, pooling in a graceful puddle. “Don’t you love fashion from the 1930s? I think it’s becoming my favorite era. In fact, I find myself having less of a desire to wear anything else.”
“It suits you.” Penny smiled. With her flirty, calf-length skirt and bolero jacket, Bree could fit right in with the glamorous company of Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford. “Do you mind holding down the fort while I pop over to Maggie’s for a few minutes?”
“Sure. I’m almost done with the dresses, but there’s a stack of hat boxes with my name on it.” Bree displayed a gleeful grin. “I’m hoping to find a beret just like the one Marlene Dietrich always wore.”
Suddenly moved with affection for her sweet, spirited employee, Penny sighed. “What am I going to do without you?”
“Well,” Bree glanced at the floor, twisting the sole of her black-and-white Oxford into the scuffed hardwood. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that….”
Bree hesitated, and Penny recalled the strained conversation they’d had in the storage room several days earlier. The one where she now realized she’d given atrocious advice.
“I’ve… decided not to go to college after all.” Her gaze flickered to Penny’s face, sadness evident in the dull sheen of her usually vibrant eyes. “Would you consider hiring me full-time?”
The enormity of Bree’s question weighed heavily on Penny’s shoulders, and she hated to see the resignation written across the girl’s face. “Bree,” she said softly. “You know I’d love nothing more than to keep you forever. But…”
At the small, yet worrisome word, Bree winced.
Drawing in a fortifying breath, Penny continued. “But first, I need you to tell me why you’ve decided not to go to college.”
Defensive, Bree stiffened. “Like I told you, I don’t want to be homesick. I’d miss my family and friends too much.”
“Is that all?” she asked gently, suspecting her fears ran much deeper than that.
Bree’s face fell, her shoulders slumped in heartbreaking dejection.
Taking her hand, Penny led her toward a vintage chaise lounge—the same style as the one in her apartment, but upholstered in a vivid plum-colored velvet. Pulling Bree down beside her, Penny kept a grip on her hand. “A few days ago, you said something about being afraid to be different. What did you mean by that?”
Although she had her own suspicions, she wanted the girl to express the thought out loud and relinquish some of its power over her.
Her face twisting with suppressed tears, Bree gestured toward her outfit with an agitated flick of her wrist. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a freak show.”
Penny cringed at the harsh term, insisting, “You are not.”
