A Place to Call Home (Harlequin Heartwarming) Read Online Free

It’s got maples and sweetgums, lots of shade for the summer.”
    “But I’ve already got the—”
    “And we could, um, throw in the cost of moving the house...and maybe, the foundation. The cost of moving it shouldn’t be that much.”
    She’d been wrong. This guy was a nut, albeit a cute one. He actually thought—
    “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” he asked.
    “Well, yeah. I’m inclined to that way of thinking...or that maybe there’s some sort of treasure buried here.”
    His face heated up. “Nope. No treasure. This—it’s only that I’m more than a little attached to this land. Maybe it’s just that it is such good land. Or maybe it’s because of the way my uncle lost it. I don’t know.”
    “I’m really sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel...but I’m really happy with my land. And I don’t even want to think about moving this house again. I’ve got two months to get my sculpture built and delivered.”
    Brandon looked as though he might argue. Then his jaw tightened and he stuffed his hands in his back pockets. He stood there for a long moment before moving stiffly toward the door leading to the hall.
    “Well. Guess it was worth a shot. Though why I ever thought any granddaughter of Murphy would understand where I was coming from...”
    She heard his footsteps echo off the empty rooms, and then the front door shut with a loud thud.

CHAPTER THREE
    “T OLD YOU that girl was moving fast. Here, have some more rice and peas.”
    Before Brandon could stop Uncle Jake, the man had dumped a clump of sticky rice and some field peas onto Brandon’s chipped stoneware plate. A cook Uncle Jake most definitely wasn’t, not that he could afford better food.
    “Yeah, well, I’ve been busy these past couple of weeks, Uncle Jake. Not only have I been working my regular nightshift, but we’re short during the day, too.” Brandon tried but failed to keep the defensive note out of his voice. If only he’d come up with the land swap idea sooner, before she’d re-roofed the place, maybe then she’d have been more receptive.
    “I know. You’re always busy. That sheriff of ours keeps you bustin’ your chops. Hardly ever see you these days.”
    Uncle Jake flopped back in his chair. After a moment of silent concentration, he attacked his own second helping of rice with gusto.
    Brandon knew that look. He’d seen it often enough since he and his mom had moved in when Brandon was a skinny ten-year-old and his brother was an even skinnier eight-year-old.
    “You’re thinking I was wasting my time, aren’t you?”
    The old man looked up from his dinner plate. “Well...folks don’t want to split up their land, especially not a woman who’s got a house set down.”
    Brandon snorted. “Not much of a house if you ask me.” But then, with eyes that would see it like a stranger would, he saw his uncle’s dining room, with its stacks of books and newspapers, its yellowed white walls and the vinyl rug curling up in one corner. Uncle Jake took up more time repairing his pigpens than he did his own place. Since Brandon’s mom had passed away three years ago, Uncle Jake had sure let the place go. The house wasn’t much of an improvement over Penelope Langston’s bungalow.
    “I won’t lie, son. It’s that ‘no-never’ that gets you every time, the idea that I won’t ever see a plow of mine on that land now.” Uncle Jake paused in his eating, his rheumy old eyes far away. “I still remember the day I signed the papers to buy that land where she’s put her house. I knew it was good for growing, and I couldn’t wait. I didn’t even have a tractor of my own yet, ’cause I’d spent every penny I’d saved just for the down payment. So I borrowed my daddy’s old Massey Ferguson and broke ground that same day.”
    Brandon had heard the story a hundred times at least, but he didn’t interrupt. A man had a right to grieve, after all. When his uncle finished, the two of them sat in silence.
    “An