Heartwishes Read Online Free PDF Page A

Gemma.
    “She’s already started,” Colin said as he handed his mother Gemma’s notebook.
    Mrs. Frazier flipped through the pages. Only five of them had been filled with Gemma’s small handwriting, but it could be seen that there was a lot of information in there. “Do you find that using different colors of ink helps you?”
    “I sometimes use eight colors,” Kirk said before Gemma could speak.
    “I use color-coded dots,” Isla said. “Oh, but it will be such fun to start going through everything.”
    “Is that how you feel too, Gemma?” Mrs. Frazier asked. “That it will be fun?”
    “I think ‘intense’ would better describe it,” Gemma said. “I would guess that most of the documents, probably eighty percent of them, are useless when trying to write a history because they’re household accounts. If you want to find out the financial side of your husband’s family, I’d suggest hiring a forensic accountant.”
    “I think Gemma means—” Kirk began.
    Mrs. Frazier put up her hand. “So you’re only interested in dealing with twenty percent of the papers?”
    Gemma felt as though she’d yet again messed up, but when she glanced at Colin, he gave her an encouraging nod. “Yes,” Gemma said firmly. “What I’d do first is go through every box and do a lot of sorting. What I couldn’t use, I’d store, then I’d put the diaries and letters and personal papers in the library and start working from there.”
    Mrs. Frazier looked at Gemma for a moment, then turned to Isla. “And how would you begin?”
    “The same way,” she said quickly. “That’s standard procedure.”
    Gemma shot Isla a look. There was no “standard procedure” for dealing with historical data. All researchers had their own way of working.
    Mrs. Frazier turned to her son. “I think I’ll take a nap. Why don’t I return to the house with Isla and Kirk, and you take Gemma out to lunch? You two must be starving. And while you’re in town, why don’t you show her your office?”
    Turning, Mrs. Frazier handed Gemma her notebook, but she said nothing. She looked at Isla and Kirk. “Yesterday I had the heat in the pool turned up. Perhaps you two would like a swim.”
    In the next minute Colin and Gemma were alone in the guesthouse.
    “Oh,” Gemma said as she sat down on the couch. “I can’t tell if your mother likes me or hates me.” She looked up at Colin. “Is going with you a punishment or a reward?”
    “I don’t know. Right now, it could go either way. She’s not too happy with me at the moment because last night I expressed some concerns about a stranger moving into the guesthouse. I liked the idea at first, but after I met Isla and Kirk . . . Well, let’s just say that if my mother could have turned me over her knee, she would have.” He looked at Gemma. “You want to go into town for lunch?”
    “Yes, please,” she said.
    “Then follow me to the car and I’ll make sure we’re not seen. I don’t want those two sucking up to me .” He led her out of the guesthouse, then through the trees and along the edge of a landscaped lawn. As they passed the side of the big house, Gemma saw a very large young man, a teenager, standing behind a glass door and watching them. Finally, they arrived at the driveway in front of the house. There were six vehicles parked there, including Gemma’s rental, making it look like a used-car lot.
    Colin pulled keys out of his pocket.
    “I guess that was your little brother I saw at the door.”
    “Probably,” Colin said as he went toward a Jeep, the kind that looked like it was made to go up and down mountains. “That means we’ll be ratted on.”
    “He’s a tattletale?” Gemma asked.
    “Worse. He’s an artist.”
    She looked across the hood at him in question.
    “Like writers tell everything that happens to them, my little brother draws everything. By tonight he’ll have half a dozen pictures of you and me. He’ll probably portray us as running away to escape