Читать книгу Inner Harbor - Lois Richer - Страница 9

The letter arrived by courier on Thanksgiving eve, a bulky missive with a legal firm listed as the sender.

A strange quiver of excitement rippled through Annie Simmons as she dropped the sandpaper block she’d been rubbing against a battered oak table and tore open the envelope with trembling fingers.

What now?

A legal-size white envelope with her name printed on it lay tucked inside, along with a letter. She sank down on the floor and scanned the typewritten words from the executor of Wharton Willoughby’s estate, informing her the envelope’s sealed contents had been discovered on his desk, addressed to her. She noticed that the stamp had never been canceled. Why hadn’t he mailed it?

Annie slit the envelope, slid out three pages covered in a thick black scrawl. She began to read.

Dear Annie

It’s been several weeks since I last visited you in Safe Harbor. I expect that you are well under way with your renovations now. Soon your bed-and-breakfast will be welcoming folks through its doors. Congratulations!

Annie, you’ve become the granddaughter I never had. We’ve shared so many things, allowed the other to pray over our worries. Perhaps that’s why I trust you won’t be offended by this letter from an old man who dares to make an outrageous request.

My grandson is very precious to me, and yet I’m afraid for him. R.J. has lost his way, lost touch with what really matters in this life. He’s grown afraid of responsibility. He needs someone—someone to help him face his past, his future and all the potential it holds. For some time, I’ve believed you are that person.

I’ve got a bad case of pneumonia, so I can’t talk to you in person, and the phone seems too impersonal for what I want to say, so I’ve chosen to write. Tomorrow I’ll mail this. Perhaps you’ll manage a visit to discuss it, and I can better articulate my hopes, but until then, here are my thoughts.

I can’t allow R.J. to continue on the path he’s traveling, Annie. So I’ve taken steps to direct him toward Safe Harbor. I’ve stipulated in my will that he cannot inherit the money I so desperately want him to use to expand his business—unless he marries you. It’s presumptuous of me, and I’m sure you’d scold me severely for my interference if you were here. Perhaps that’s why I’ve cowardly chosen to write this letter instead of facing you.

I know you very well, Annie. And I know my grandson. I know the burdens each of you carry. I’ve come to believe that you and R.J. belong together, that you could share those burdens and build something wonderful—together. That’s why I hope you’ll marry him.

Please, at least consider my request. Many times I’ve asked the Lord to watch over you both, many times I’ve pleaded for His direction. I believe this is His will. You’re both hiding, hurt by the past, afraid to move on. You can help each other, love each other, serve Him together. And I will have my dearest wish—at last you will truly be my own sweet granddaughter.

You are my hope for R.J., Annie. I trust you will prayerfully consider this request from a lonely old man who thanks you for the many happy hours you gave him.

Sincerely,

Wharton Willoughby

Annie lifted the courier’s envelope, hardly able to comprehend what she’d read. As she tilted it, a funeral announcement fell onto the floor. It was dated three weeks earlier, announcing the passing of a man who’d been the grandfather she’d never had. He’d died the day after he’d written her. He’d never had a chance to mail his precious letter.

Tears filled her eyes. Dear Mr. Willoughby. How she would miss him.

The letter, still clutched in her left hand, reminded her that while he might be gone, Wharton Willoughby, her friend and legal counsel, was still advising her.

Only this time she would not take his advice.

All those prayers she’d listened to had left Annie with a certain impression of Wharton’s grandson, and he was definitely not what she considered husband material. R.J. would have to find someone else to marry, because Annie Simmons had no intention of repeating her parents’ disastrous mistake. She would never marry.