A Thoroughly Modern Princess Page 27
As for the paternal side of the family . . .
“How did you hear about the birth, Grandfather?” Granger asked. “Was it on the radio, or in the paper, or—?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure it will be.”
“Then how did you—”
“I have my sources,” the old man said mysteriously, taking a step closer to Granger and peering down at the sleeping infant.
For a moment the room was silent.
Then Granger’s grandfather cleared his throat. Several times. “He’s a handsome little thing, isn’t he?” he asked gruffly. “Looks like he’s got the Lockwood eyebrows. But I think that’s his mother’s pretty nose.”
Emmaline smiled, touched. “Do you want to hold him?”
“No, that’s his father’s job,” came the brusque—but not unpleasant—reply. “But if his father would like another job . . . I’ve got a position that I think might interest him.”
Granger looked up, a shadow crossing his face. “Grandfather—”
“Before you turn me down, let me tell you that I’ve been thinking, and it’s about time I took some time off. An extended leave of absence, if you will.”
“How long a leave of absence?” Granger asked dubiously.
“A permanent one,” the old man said. “Doctor’s orders. It seems that the stress of running my business is going to kill me if I don’t slow down. I used to think retiring was the worst thing that could happen, but now . . .” He shrugged. “Now I know that there are other things. Worse things.”
“Like dying?” Granger asked dryly.
“That’s one of them. Being a lonely old man with nobody to talk to except a couple of birds is another.”
Granger’s jaw dropped.
“So I’ll make a deal with you,” his grandfather went on. “You come back to Lockwood Enterprises, and I’ll clear out.”
“I . . . I’d have to think about it.”
“Don’t be silly. You can’t support your wife and son forever on handouts from the royal in-laws.”
“We haven’t taken handouts,” Granger protested, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “And I’m quite capable of supporting my family. I’ve raised nearly all the capital I need to launch my business plan—without Anderson Lowell’s support, I might add.”
“I know,” his grandfather said quietly. “Regardless, you would be a fool not to consider my offer.”
Emmaline held her breath, willing Granger to swallow his ferocious pride and do the right thing.
“As I said, Grandfather, I’m quite capable—”
“You are capable,” his grandfather interrupted. “Far more capable than I ever realized. But sooner or later, Granger, you need something you can be proud of. Something you can someday hand down to Granger Lockwood the fifth.”
“I’m going to build—”
“That will take decades. I’m offering you something that is already established. Something that is your birthright. And his.”
Granger and Emmaline looked at each other.
“Don’t be stubborn. Accept the offer,” she said. “He’s right.”
“I’ll do it,” Granger told his grandfather.
Emmaline broke into a wide grin.
Then her husband said, “But about Granger Lockwood the fifth . . .”
Uh-oh.
“What about him?” The old man reached out a gnarled, tentative finger and gently stroked the baby’s fuzzy dark head.
“He doesn’t exist. Grandfather, meet Eldridge Lockwood the first.”
“Eldridge?” the old man echoed, scowling. “What kind of a name is Eldridge?”
“An old family name,” Granger said with a grin.
“Her family?” Grandfather asked, looking at Emmaline.
“No. Our family.” Granger indicated himself, Emmaline and the baby. He added firmly, “We’re going to do things our way.”
“And we wanted him to have a one-of-a-kind name,” Emmaline added.
“That’s a one-of-a-kind name, all right,” the old man said. “Eldridge, hmm? Granger Lockwood the fifth would have been better. But I suppose it could have been worse . . .”
“Here—you can hold him, while I hold my wife,” Granger said, and thrust the baby into his grandfather’s arms before he could protest.
Granger settled on the edge of the bed and wrapped Emmaline in an embrace. She leaned her head contentedly against his chest as they watched Granger Lockwood II lose every ounce of his dignity as he cooed and made faces at their newborn.
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” Emmaline asked in a voice only her husband could hear.
“That my grandfather’s utterly lost his mind?”
“That, too, perhaps . . . but I’m thinking that this princess has found her fairy-tale ending after all.”
They smiled.
They kissed.
And they lived happily ever after.
About the Author
Photo by Lisa L. Nasca
WENDY CORSI STAUB was raised in the heart of western New York’s snow belt and decided she wanted to be an author while in third grade. Her first historical romance, The Long Way Home, was published by Berkley Jove in July 1999.
The year 2003 has brought the publication of three new original novels. In addition to this book, She Loves Me Not, a domestic suspense novel that has been compared to Mary Higgins Clark’s fiction, was released in February by Pinnacle Books; The Nine Month Plan, a romantic comedy written under the pseudonym Wendy Markham, was released in August by Warner Books.
After moving, Wendy now lives in the NYC area with her husband, who is an advertising sales director in Manhattan, and their children. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, the Young Adult Network, and Romance Writers of America.
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Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright © 2003 by Wendy Corsi Staub
ISBN: 0-380-82054-4
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