Page 25 of Wrapped Up in Christmas Hope
Andrew harrumphed. He knew all about the Cupid-effect rumors associated with Rosie’s grandmother’s famous cinnamon bread. It was said to be an infallible tool for winning over a sweetheart.
But Rosie had it all wrong if she thought Morgan needed to give the bread to him. It was him in need of the bread. A dozen loaves. Maybe more. Not that he wanted to win Morgan’s heart. He didn’t. But he’d like to be her friend and spend time with her and Greyson.
A batch of match-making cinnamon bread might work better than the luck he’d had thus far in convincing her he had the best of intentions.
“You seem to really enjoy your job at the assisted living.”
Morgan smiled at Rosie’s comment. They had gotten everything ready in the kitchen and were taking a shift at the ironing boards, pressing seams, along with a few others. There was something rewarding about flattening the seams.
“I do love it,” she admitted, running her iron over the sewn block and pressing the seams all in the same direction. “I’m so glad Grammy convinced me to apply.”
“Girl, Claudia’s talked of nothing else since you agreed to move here. Well, that and the trip she and your grandfather took to Montana earlier this year. That woman does love to travel.”
“I’m so glad Grampy is finally taking her places. I hope having Greyson and me staying with them doesn’t slow them down.”
“It won’t. They had that weekend trip to Charleston last month,” Rosie reminded her. “Plus they have the Grand Canyon tour planned for next summer. So, don’t you worry your pretty head about that. If anything, they’ll rest easier knowing you’re at the house keeping an eye on things whenever they’re away.”
Next summer. Would she still be living with her grandparents then? Technically, she could move out now that she was working again, but they’d convinced her she shouldn’t start looking for a place until after the holidays, and she’d agreed that the idea made sense. Spending Christmas with her grandparents would be good for her and Greyson, and they seemed to enjoy having them there.
“I hope so. I never want to be a burden, but them taking us in while I get back on my feet has been a lifesaver.” Emotionally and financially, she thought.
“It’s what grandparents live for,” Rosie said, smiling.
“Why, Rosie, I wouldn’t have thought you old enough to be a grandma,” Morgan said, knowing the compliment would tickle the woman.
Beaming, Rosie stuck a finger over her painted cherry red lips. “Shhh, let’s not let my secret out.”
As Rosie had lived in Pine Hill all her life, it wasn’t much of a secret that she had kids and grandkids, even if none of them lived locally, as far as Morgan knew. Still, Morgan nodded and placed another pressed piece of material in a growing stack at the end of her ironing board. She and Rosie continued to chat while they ironed, but Morgan’s gaze kept wandering to where Andrew sat at a sewing machine and ran material beneath the footer. She’d been so surprised when he sat down at the machine and seemed so at ease with its use.
“That man is positively scrumptious!”
“Rosie,” Morgan scolded, her cheeks going hot with embarrassment that Rosie had noticed where Morgan’s gaze kept going. “He’s Ruby’s grandson. You shouldn’t say such things.”
Rosie huffed. “Ruby would be the first to brag on what an amazing young man he is—and she does so all the time. She’s very proud of him.”
“That’s not exactly the same thing as you saying he’s scrumptious,” Morgan pointed out.
Rosie waved off her comment. “My friends may be old, but I’m still young”—she gave a conspiratorial smile—“even if it’s only at heart, though I’ll deny that last bit if you tell Maybelle.”
“Tell me what?” Maybelle asked, joining them to pick up the ironed pieces. She looked as lovely as ever with her dark fitted pants and cream-colored blouse topped with a red, white, and blue scarf. No wonder John had carried a crush on her all these years.
Rosie gave Morgan a look of warning and she suppressed a smile.
“We were talking about how much my patients enjoyed the singing at the nursing home this week. I’m glad Pastor Smith plans to arrange another visit prior to Christmas to sing carols for the residents again.”
“The singing was a hit, wasn’t it? Ruby’s grandson does such a great Elvis impersonation. He always gets lots of requests for his numbers,” Maybelle said, smiling.
“I’ve never seen so many happy old people,” Rosie added, then turned to Maybelle. “I guess you felt right at home, eh?”
Maybelle’s gaze cut to Rosie’s and she gave a dismissive shake of her head.
Suppressing another smile, Morgan disregarded the comments about Andrew. It wasn’t as if she needed any reminders of how appealing his voice was. She also diplomatically chose not to point out that both women were likely every bit as old as many of the patients at the center. More so than some. John, certainly, was a contemporary of Maybelle’s, and he wasn’t the youngest man there. She didn’t think either would appreciate that tidbit. Fortunately, both women appeared to be in great health and had no need of assistance.
Ignoring her friend’s comment, Maybelle focused on Morgan. “I saw where you spent quite a bit of time with John Harper. I assume you’re his nurse. He’s recovering well from his fall?”
Was Maybelle just asking to be polite, or was there a little something extra to her question?
“Oh, silly woman.” Rosie scolded. “She can’t tell you. Did you forget about that medical Hippo stuff?”
