years.”
“I can still see you the way you looked the first time I met you.”
“You thought I was a classic Jewish American Princess. Spoiled rotten.”
“I never thought of you that way.”
“Oh, right. You saw me as a butterfly, then. A delicate flower. For your information, buster, you were the only blind date I ever went on. My girlfriend told me you were something special, so I dressed for the Ritz and you took me to a deli for pastrami on rye. What a comedown.”
“I like pastrami on rye.” He couldn’t help but grin. “You were just being a good girl, wearing your best duds.”
“And you had on a leather jacket and ripped jeans. Mr. Grunge.”
“We were both trying to impress each other in different ways.”
She kissed his nose. “Lucky for you that you clean up pretty good. Speaking of fashion, I won’t see you the first time you wear your new suit. You’ll go out to dinner with your mother, no doubt someplace fancy. You’ll look so handsome that all the homegrown Minnesota floozies will slip you their phone numbers.”
“I beg your pardon. We don’t grow floozies in Minnesota. Just corn.”
“And I’ll be back in New York, teaching and worrying.” Ruth taught several classes at Columbia, including a new one on international media and communications. Given her schedule, she hardly had time to breathe.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.” He touched his fingers to the hollow in her neck. “Do you think I should get a haircut in the morning before I leave?”
“I like your hair longer, a little shaggy. It’s the right look for a distinguished author.”
He grunted. “Whatever that is. I’m starting to gray, you know—or white.”
“It just makes your blond hair look even lighter.”
He hugged her tight. “I wish I saw the world through your eyes. I think it would be a far more beautiful place. I won’t be gone long, Ruthie. Maybe a week. Hopefully less.”
“I’ll put a candle in the window.”
“You do that.” He kissed her again, then whispered, “It will help me find my way home.”
The plane landed at Twin Cities International shortly after one, central daylight time. It took a little over an hour for Danny to round up his luggage and arrange for a rental car. By two-thirty, he was driving southwest on Highway 59. The Veelund property was located in Ahern County, an hour’s drive from St. Paul. In the late sixties, Danny’s dad, Carl Veelund, had purchased eleven hundred acres of less than prime prairie from a farmer. It was a section of land that was full of rocks and gently rolling hills, but not much else. Danny’s dad wanted a place out of the city where he could build his dream home. He had died suddenly the night of the housewarming party, leaving Danny’s mother to run his growing business.
Danny had been twelve at the time. Alex, his older brother, was eighteen, and Elaine, his sister, fifteen. Alex was the first to leave for college and the first one to return home to help their mother run the company. Elaine left next, following her boyfriend to Stanford, where she found she had a knack for engineering. She lost interest in the boyfriend almost immediately, but her studies consumed her, so much so that she graduated near the top of her class. After graduation she’d received a number of job offers, some of them quite tempting, but her mind was made up. She returned home and eventually took over the log house division. By then the company had become Veelund Industries, making not only log houses but also pool tables and log furniture. In the end, only Danny had left and never come back.
Business interested Danny about as much as dentistry or bricklaying. He did his duty and sat on the board of directors. That meant he had to return to Minnesota occasionally for meetings. He always voted the way his sister told him to. He trusted Elaine more than he trusted Alex, and vastly more than he trusted his mother. Veelund Industries was his
“I can still see you the way you looked the first time I met you.”
“You thought I was a classic Jewish American Princess. Spoiled rotten.”
“I never thought of you that way.”
“Oh, right. You saw me as a butterfly, then. A delicate flower. For your information, buster, you were the only blind date I ever went on. My girlfriend told me you were something special, so I dressed for the Ritz and you took me to a deli for pastrami on rye. What a comedown.”
“I like pastrami on rye.” He couldn’t help but grin. “You were just being a good girl, wearing your best duds.”
“And you had on a leather jacket and ripped jeans. Mr. Grunge.”
“We were both trying to impress each other in different ways.”
She kissed his nose. “Lucky for you that you clean up pretty good. Speaking of fashion, I won’t see you the first time you wear your new suit. You’ll go out to dinner with your mother, no doubt someplace fancy. You’ll look so handsome that all the homegrown Minnesota floozies will slip you their phone numbers.”
“I beg your pardon. We don’t grow floozies in Minnesota. Just corn.”
“And I’ll be back in New York, teaching and worrying.” Ruth taught several classes at Columbia, including a new one on international media and communications. Given her schedule, she hardly had time to breathe.
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.” He touched his fingers to the hollow in her neck. “Do you think I should get a haircut in the morning before I leave?”
“I like your hair longer, a little shaggy. It’s the right look for a distinguished author.”
He grunted. “Whatever that is. I’m starting to gray, you know—or white.”
“It just makes your blond hair look even lighter.”
He hugged her tight. “I wish I saw the world through your eyes. I think it would be a far more beautiful place. I won’t be gone long, Ruthie. Maybe a week. Hopefully less.”
“I’ll put a candle in the window.”
“You do that.” He kissed her again, then whispered, “It will help me find my way home.”
The plane landed at Twin Cities International shortly after one, central daylight time. It took a little over an hour for Danny to round up his luggage and arrange for a rental car. By two-thirty, he was driving southwest on Highway 59. The Veelund property was located in Ahern County, an hour’s drive from St. Paul. In the late sixties, Danny’s dad, Carl Veelund, had purchased eleven hundred acres of less than prime prairie from a farmer. It was a section of land that was full of rocks and gently rolling hills, but not much else. Danny’s dad wanted a place out of the city where he could build his dream home. He had died suddenly the night of the housewarming party, leaving Danny’s mother to run his growing business.
Danny had been twelve at the time. Alex, his older brother, was eighteen, and Elaine, his sister, fifteen. Alex was the first to leave for college and the first one to return home to help their mother run the company. Elaine left next, following her boyfriend to Stanford, where she found she had a knack for engineering. She lost interest in the boyfriend almost immediately, but her studies consumed her, so much so that she graduated near the top of her class. After graduation she’d received a number of job offers, some of them quite tempting, but her mind was made up. She returned home and eventually took over the log house division. By then the company had become Veelund Industries, making not only log houses but also pool tables and log furniture. In the end, only Danny had left and never come back.
Business interested Danny about as much as dentistry or bricklaying. He did his duty and sat on the board of directors. That meant he had to return to Minnesota occasionally for meetings. He always voted the way his sister told him to. He trusted Elaine more than he trusted Alex, and vastly more than he trusted his mother. Veelund Industries was his
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