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Carson caught Olivia’s expression soften at that.
“Carson mentioned that you’ve been looking for the woman she told you about,” Olivia prompted.
“No luck so far,” Edmund said. “I’ve called around to a bunch of hair salons in the area, but most folks who answered the phone thought I was some nut and hung up on me. I visited several over the past two weeks, asking for a ‘Sarah who I heard was a great hairstylist,’ but most of the time, no Sarahs. The four times there was a Sarah, she didn’t have green eyes.” He let out a breath. “I guess this does sound kind of silly.”
“Romantic, though,” Olivia said on practically a whisper.
Carson frowned at her.
“I think so, too, young lady,” Edmund said, the gray cloud gone from his expression. “And I may be fifty-four, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a whiz with technology.” He pulled out his smartphone. “I’ve got a map of every hair salon in the county with digital pushpins of ones I’ve visited.” He held it up. “If there’s no green-eyed Sarah, I’ve marked it red. I’ve got nineteen salons to visit tomorrow in two counties.”
Carson rolled his eyes and shook his head. “What about the fund-raiser you’re supposed to speak at tomorrow? What about the board meeting to prepare for?”
“Carson, I’m your father. Not the other way around.”
“Dad, I—”
“Dinner is served,” Leanna sang from the doorway with Danny in her arms. “Danny helped make dessert.”
“Ert!” Danny called out.
“Dessert monster!” Edmund said, rushing over and tickling him and carrying him over his shoulder. Danny squealed with laughter.
This ridiculous quest to find this nonexistent green-eyed hairstylist was just another example of how much his father had changed, especially since Danny was born. For Danny’s sake, Carson liked the devoted, fun grandpa his formerly workaholic, bank-before-family father had become. But this silly search to find a gold digger masquerading as a predicted great love? No. Not on Carson’s watch.
He had about forty-five minutes to shift this conversation back his way. And Olivia Mack was his only hope of stopping his father from ruining his life.
* * *
In the biggest dining room that Olivia had ever been in, she sat across the huge cherrywood table from Carson. At the head sat Edmund Ford with little Danny in a high chair beside him. Watching grandfather and grandson did a lot to ease the tension that had settled in Olivia’s shoulders ever since she’d arrived. Edmund clearly adored the toddler, and baby talk—Who ate all his chi-chi? My widdle cuddlebomb did, that’s who! C’mre for your cuddlebomb!—was not beneath the revered banker. Olivia hadn’t known what to expect from Edmund Ford, but this warm, welcoming man was not it.
The three generations of Fords looked quite alike with their dark thick hair, though Edmund’s was shot through with a distinguished silver. The three shared the same intense hazel-green eyes.
“Edmund, how did you happen to become a client of my mother’s?” Olivia asked. She smiled up at Leanna, who walked around with a serving platter of roasted potatoes. As the woman put a helping on Olivia’s plate, she wondered what it would be like to live like this every day. Maids and butlers and a family room the size of the entire first floor of Olivia’s house.
“When I moved to Blue Gulch four years ago, a year after my wife passed,” Edmund said, “I would hear this and that about a Madam Miranda and didn’t give it a thought. To me, fortune-tellers were about crystal balls and telling people, for a fee, what they wanted to hear.”
“And you were right,” Carson said, fork midway to his mouth.
Edmund ignored that. “But then I overheard a few conversations that stayed with me,” he continued, taking a sip of his white wine. “A very intelligent young equity analyst at the bank was telling another employee that she went to see Madam Miranda about her previous job and whether she should dare quit without having another lined up first. Madam Miranda advised her to quit immediately because an old college friend who worked at Texas Trust would call about an opening there and she would apply, interview and be offered the job with a significant increase in pay. Oh, and she’d love working there. The analyst risked quite a bit by taking that advice. Three days later, an old college friend called. And the rest is history.”
Carson was doing that thing again where he rolled his eyes and shook his head. The double dismissive whammy.
“I would catch some stories like that,” Edmund said, “and I just sort of tucked them away, not having any interest in paying Madam Miranda a visit.”
“What changed your mind?” Olivia asked, taking a bite of the rosemary chicken. Mmm, that was good. So well seasoned. Olivia hadn’t had a meal she hadn’t cooked herself in a very long time.
“About two months ago, I overheard two young women talking in the coffee shop,” Edmund said. “I was waiting for my triple espresso, and I heard a woman say that Madam Miranda’s prediction for her had come true, that if she’d find the courage to break up with her no-good, no-account boyfriend, she’d find real love with a handsome architect whose first name started with the letter A.”
“Oh, come on,” Carson said, shaking his head.
Edmund kept his attention on Olivia. “The young woman went on to say she’d been dating the terrible boyfriend for two years but Madam Miranda’s prediction gave her something to hope for, even if it was silly and couldn’t possibly come true, despite being so specific. She dumped the guy, and three months later, she struck up a flirtation with a young man doing some work in the new wing of the hospital where she worked as a nurse. An architect named Andrew.”
Carson put down his wineglass. “Madam Miranda probably heard his firm would be working on the new hospital wing. She put the idea in the nurse’s head that she and this guy belonged together and voilà, instant interest when she might have otherwise ignored him.”
“Talk about far-fetched,” Edmund said to his son.
“I have a million of those stories,” Olivia said. “I’ve seen much of it firsthand. And my mother may have been a lot of things, but a liar or a cheat wasn’t among them.”
Carson put down his fork. “Right. So my father’s second great love is a stranger named Sarah standing in a hair salon giving some guy a buzz cut. Come on.”
“Why not?” Olivia asked. “Why isn’t that possible?”
Carson sighed. “Because it’s hocus-pocus. It’s nonsense. It’s make-believe. It gets people to pony up a pile of money for malarkey—and just like that nurse said, it gives hope where there’s none. It doesn’t mean a damned thing.”
“Watch your language,” Edmund said, covering Danny’s ears. The boy giggled.
“Larkey!” Danny shouted gleefully.
“How much did you pay the madam for this fantasy?” Carson asked his father. “Hundreds, no doubt, once she knew who you were.”
“I’ve told you at least three times that she refused to accept money from me,” Edmund said, taking a bite of his chicken. “She told me she thought my bittersweet story was deeply touching and that was payment enough.”
Olivia knew her mother often didn’t charge those who clearly couldn’t afford her services. But Edmund Ford was a zillionaire. His story really must have touched Miranda—or had her mother known that he was destined to become part of the family because of Aunt Sarah? Hmm.
“But,” Edmund continued, “considering that her fortune-telling parlor was inside her home, which was on the small side, a postage stamp, really, I left her a thousand dollars in cash anonymously. She deserved it.”
The head shaking was back. “Right, Dad. I’m sure that’s how she hooked, lined and sunk her wealthy clients, pretending to care, finding their pasts just so touching, and fully knowing they’d load up her mailbox with cash and gifts. Payment enough—ha.”
“Could you be more cynical?” Edmund said, once again covering little Danny’s ears and making the boy giggle.
“I’m not cynical, Dad. I’m realistic.”
“Who’s ready for desserty-werty?” Edmund said to Danny, kissing his soft little cheek. “I know I am!”
“Me!” Danny shouted.
Olivia glanced at Carson, who was brooding in his seat. She’d say for this round, each man had scored a point each. They both made sense.
Carson let out a breath and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
Edmund stood and lifted Danny out of his high chair and set him down. “Sweets, why don’t you go play with your toys for a few minutes until Mrs. Hilliard brings out dessert.”
The boy went running for his toy chest, surrounded by brightly colored bean bags and low bookshelves.
“Right after I overheard that young lady telling her friend about finding true love,” Edmund said, “I started having all these strange feelings.” He glanced at Carson. “About wanting that for myself. I loved your mother, Carson. Very much. The last eighteen months especially, I’ve found myself changing, becoming very family-oriented when I wasn’t before.”
Carson glanced out the window, but Olivia could tell he was listening.
“After five years as a widow,” Carson continued, “with a new appreciation for loved ones, I found myself longing to find love again. And so I made an appointment with Madam Miranda to see what she might say about my chances.”
Carson let out a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want you to find love again, Dad. I just don’t want you to go on some crazy wild-goose chase and end up getting hurt by a gold digger.”
“I know you care, Carson,” Edmund said, his tone reverent. “And I appreciate that you do. But I believed Madam Miranda. I consider myself a pretty good judge of character and that woman looked me in the eye with truth.”
It was like a hug. After Carson’s criticism of her mother, after her own years and years of trying to find some rational explanation for her mother’s abilities, to hear her last client say this with conviction in his voice was like the warm hug that Olivia had needed for six weeks. Her only other family member—Aunt Sarah, very likely Edmund Ford’s second great love—was somewhere out there, long out of hugging distance.
“Will you stay for dessert?” Edmund asked her.
She took another glance at Carson. The man was scowling. His plan to have her derail his father’s belief in her mother’s fortune hadn’t exactly worked.
“I’d better get going. Thank you for dinner,” she said. “I’m so glad we got to meet.”
“Well, rest assured that I will make good on your mother’s prediction for me,” Edmund said. “I will find my green-eyed, hair-cutting Sarah.” Olivia smiled and he took both her hands in his. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Olivia. I know how it feels to lose someone you love so deeply.”
What a dear man he was. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you out,” Carson said between gritted teeth.
“Bye, Danny,” Olivia said, smiling at the toddler.
“Bye!” Danny said with a smile and a wave and his grandfather joined him in his toy area.
As she and Carson walked through the marble foyer and out the front door, Olivia could tell Carson was waiting until they were outside to let her have it for not backing him up. She could feel the tension in him.
But all he said, while looking around the circular drive, was “Where is your car?”
“I walked, actually. My car is almost fifteen years old and might not have made it up the hill to the drive.”
He seemed surprised. “I’ll walk you home. Let me just tell my dad and Danny I’ll be gone for a while.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” he said.
Now he’d have a half hour to give her an earful about how she’d messed up the one thing he wanted.
* * *
“I suppose you feel like I got to eat that amazing rosemary chicken and roasted potatoes and perfectly timed asparagus for nothing,” Olivia said as they headed down the hill toward town.
Carson raised an eyebrow and glanced at her, struck again by how lovely she was. She had a delicate, fine-boned face and her long light brown hair framed it in waves. The cool breeze blew her sweater against her full breasts and he found himself sucking in a breath at how sexy she was. Flower-appliqué felt skirt and yellow cowboy boots and all. He realized he was staring at her and glanced ahead at the twinkling lights in the distance, where the shops and restaurants of Blue Gulch Street were just winding down. How could he be attracted to her?
“Meaning, I don’t think your dad will give up on the quest to find this woman,” Olivia said.
“Well, I appreciated that you came and were fair,” Carson said. “It’s not like you were necessarily on either our sides.” He felt her looking at him. “And I don’t think he’ll give up, either. I’ve tried for two weeks now, ever since he first mentioned it to me. You were my last hope.”
“Two weeks? My mom’s been gone for six, and I know their appointment was just days before she passed away.”
“He said he tucked the fortune away, let himself really think about it, and then decided he was ready to see if it was possible, if there really could be a second great love out there.”
“Carson?” she said, darting a glance at him. “Is the reason you’re so against his trying to find the woman because of your mother?”
“My mother died five years ago. I don’t begrudge my father love or companionship. It’s the fortune-telling aspect that I have problems with.”
“My mom tried to keep a list of all the marriages she was responsible for. Her last count was three hundred twelve.”
Please. “I don’t believe that.”
“You don’t believe much,” she said.
That wasn’t true. He believed in a lot. In his love for his son. In doing his job and helping bring criminals to justice by tracking them down for the police. In the way Olivia Mack’s big brown eyes drew him, making him unable to look away from her face.
Olivia looked past him toward the beautiful horse pasture. The thoroughbreds weren’t out tonight. “Did you grow up in that house?” she asked.
“No, I grew up in Oak Creek.” A town over, Oak Creek was the fancy cousin of Blue Gulch, filled with estate ranches and mansions. “My father sold the family house a year after my mother died. He said the memories were killing him and he needed a fresh start and had always liked Blue Gulch with its quaint mile-long downtown.”
“Ah,” she said. “That’s why I haven’t seen you around. I think just about everyone in town has been to the food truck in the two weeks it’s been open.”
“I meant to tell you—the shrimp po’boy was pretty darn good. I have no doubt that word of mouth will bring in business from the surrounding towns.”
She smiled. “Thanks. My mother’s business worked that way, too. Word of mouth brought in client after client, just as it did with your dad. Relative and friends came in from neighboring states, too, for a chance to meet with Madam Miranda.”
“So tell me how this supposedly works. Your mother had this magic ability to predict the future but it wasn’t passed down to you?”
“According to my mother, all the women on her side of the family have a gift,” she practically mumbled.
“What number am I thinking of?” he asked.
She smiled. “I have no idea.”
“So what is your gift?” he asked.
“That’s a lovely tree,” she said, eyeing the weeping willow at the edge of the Ford property. She clearly didn’t want to talk about this.
He leaned toward her. “You can read minds. You can move objects with your eyes. You can make yourself invisible.”
She laughed. “None of the above. I’m not sure I want to talk to about it, Carson. I’ve struggled with believing it myself, but based on what I’ve seen with my own eyes, I seem to be able to affect people with my cooking.”
What? “Your cooking?”
She nodded. “Aside from running the Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen food truck during the week, I’m a personal chef. I seem to be able to change moods and lift hearts with my food.”
She glanced at him, and he tried to make his expression more neutral but the disappointment punching him in the stomach made that impossible.
“Not what you want to hear, I know,” she said. “But this is my family. This is me. I’m not saying I understand it or even want it, but I seem to have this...gift.”
He resumed walking, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “You made me a shrimp po’boy. What effect did that have on me?”
