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“I can’t believe your grandfather moved back to Chicago. I thought he might be starting something up with Eleanor.”

Graham had thought the same. He’d seen the way Grandfather looked at Eleanor and figured a guy who was eighty wouldn’t let grass grow beneath his feet. He’d figured wrong, unless Eleanor had shot Grandfather down? Could be.

He grabbed Cadence’s hand as they darted out the sliding door, each dragging a rolling case, and into ice pellets streaming sideways. He opened the limo door for Cadence before Kenneth could do so, thrust both cases inside, and jumped in behind her.

“Brr!” He clapped his mittened hands together.

“Welcome home, Graham.” Kenneth’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror.

“Thank you. I must admit it doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

The man’s eyes softened with a smile. “Perhaps a December visit isn’t the best time for a trip down memory lane.”

Graham doubted the season made the difference, but there was no need to be argumentative. “Perhaps. First, we’re headed to Daniel and Amelia Fosters’ home in Hinsdale. Do you have the address?”

“Yes, sir. It’s plugged in.”

Graham settled into his seat and tugged off the woolen mittens Eleanor had knitted for each of the Sullivan grandsons. For the next ten days, the mitts and his down parka would live in his closet, and he’d get to wear his lined leather gloves and wool trench coat like a proper urban businessman. His jeans, Henleys, and the flannel shirts he’d taken to wearing around the ranch would make way for dress slacks and button-downs.

If he had any friends in the city, they’d never recognize the Montana version ofGraham. Moot point. He had no true friends here.

Who knew his cousins would become real friends, though, after all these years? And there were other guys, too. Jordan and some of the others on Maxwell’s construction crew had become sociable now that the crush of tourists had lessened over the slow season.

Cadence threaded her fingers through his and leaned on his shoulder.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds. Thank You, God, for mercies great and small. “You okay?”

“I think so, but I can hardly wait until next time I see this airport in ten days.”

“I know what you mean.” Graham chuckled. “But the time will go quickly. We’ve got tickets for the philharmonic, and we’ll walk the Magnificent Mile and Navy Pier. I refuse to let your parents take up all your time, even if it is Christmas in a few days.”

“I look forward to it.”

Graham’s phone chimed with an incoming text. He flicked it on and frowned at the message from his mom.

We are invited to your cousin Paul’s wedding on New Year’s Eve, and I expect you to be in attendance.

What on earth? He tilted the device toward Cadence. “Heard anything about this?”

Her eyes grew wide as she read. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I don’t think so.” He tapped back.

We landed and are in the limo with Kenneth, dropping Cadence off before I’ll be at your place. Please send Aunt Frances my regrets. Cadence and I are booked on flights to Missoula on the 29th.

Change them.

Sorry, I can’t. You know how packed flights are over the holidays.

Get your uncle to fly you in the private jet.

Mom? I don’t want to go to Paul’s wedding, and I’m not going to. Who is he marrying, anyway?

Dahlia Casselman.

Graham couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up. He tapped back, good for him, before turning off his phone and pocketing it.

“Dahlia? Seriously? Isn’t she the ditzy thing that tried to glom onto Tate last summer at the Gala of the Stars?”