Free What the Heart Wants by Jeanell Bolton Page B

waited. The burner went on at the sound of the sound of Lolly’s foot on the stairs.
    â€œHey, something smells good.”
    Lolly entering the room was like the sun coming out all over again. It wasn’t just the color of her hair. There was something about her, a glow of energy that seemed to make the air sparkle around her.
    Laurel couldn’t help but smile at the twin ponytails bouncing on either sides of her face. “You’ve got doggie ears.”
    Lolly touched one of the masses of curls. “Yeah. I change my hair around a lot.”
    â€œTake a seat. I’ve poured you some orange juice, and breakfast will be ready in a minute. Hope you like French toast.”
    Lolly’s face clouded. “I’ve never tried it. Aunt Maxie and I always have Cheerios at home.” She took a seat at the big table.
    Laurel was glad the old table was getting some use. It had been here since Kinkaid House was built, but it was yet another item that would be up for sale if she didn’t get a buyer for the house soon. She’d never need anything that large for herself, and oak tables were scoring good prices these days.
    Wielding a spatula, she lifted the eggy toast onto a serving plate and brought it to the table. Lolly eyed the concoction suspiciously. “It’s sort of soggy.”
    â€œYou eat it with a fork. Try it.” Sitting down next to her with her own plate, Laurel demonstrated the technique.
    Lolly, still looking doubtful, cut the toast and speared a small piece. She glanced at her hostess for encouragement, then grimaced as she lifted it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
    Her expression cleared. “Gosh, it’s good!”
    Laurel laughed, enjoying Lolly’s surprise.
    What a sweetheart—she’d been willing to try her cooking just to please her.
    After cleaning up the remains of breakfast, they moved to the den again, where Lolly made a tour of the room, peering at all the photographs and reading aloud the inscriptions on all the plaques and trophies.
    â€œThis looks like the oldest picture,” she said, pointing to a dingy tintype in the bookshelf. “He’s the guy at the head of the stairs, isn’t he?”
    Laurel nodded. “You have a good eye. That’s Erasmus Kinkaid again, when he first came to Texas.”
    â€œCool. He must have really been something.”
    Laurel laughed. “Gramma always referred to him as ‘that rascal,’ and I don’t think she meant it lovingly.”
    Lolly’s eyes widened with interest. Obviously she liked rascals. Jase must really have his hands full.
    Lolly reached for a picture of Erasmus and his two sons. “What about your grandfather? Was he a rascal too?”
    â€œA little bit, or at least a sharp businessman. He diversified the family holdings, and we made it through the Great Depression so well that he could fund a major renovation on the house in the 1930s and another one in the 1960s.” That one had cost almost a million dollars. Mama had planned on putting in central air and renovating the kitchen three years ago, until suddenly there was no money for anything.
    â€œAnd your father? I know he was a pastor, but did he also make investments?”
    Laurel managed to keep her smile in place. “Daddy wasn’t interested in investments, and Mama didn’t see it as her place to get involved.”
    Daddy thought money grew on trees, and Mama was oblivious.
    Lolly replaced the picture of Erasmus and looked at a large photograph of Laurel and her parents on the shelf above them. “What sort of family did your dad come from? Was his father a preacher? Did it run in the family?”
    Laurel shook her head. “I don’t know. Daddy was raised in the Methodist Home in Waco. His father gave him up when he was about ten, and I got the feeling his life was a lot better at the orphanage than it had been with his parents.”
    Daddy had speculated once