Love Finds You in Frost Minnesota by Judy Baer Page B

newspaper-wrapped items within. He picked one up, unwrapped it, and held up a fragile blue-and-white teacup. The dark blue color seemed to bleed through the porcelain to reveal itself on both sides of the plate.
    “My mother had flow blue china too. She inherited it from her grandmother.” Merry took the cup from Jack’s hands to examine it.
    Uninterested in dishes, he turned to another chest, one that opened easily. “What’s this?” He withdrew a small body, the eyes of which were staring directly at him.
    “She’s beautiful!” Merry tenderly took the doll and, with a motion born of instinct, cradled it in her arms.
    “There have to be a dozen dolls in here.” Jack withdrew a marionette with tangled strings. “These must have belonged to my great-aunt. She didn’t have any children to pass them down to.”
    “How sad,” Merry murmured. “These dolls would make some little girl very happy.”
    The next words out of Jack’s mouth shocked her. “Why don’t you give them to Greta for Christmas?”
    Tears welled in her eyes at the tender thought. “That’s a beautiful suggestion, but I couldn’t. Maybe someday you’ll have little girls of your own. They are the ones who should have them.”
    Jack looked as if he’d never entertained such an idea. “Me? I . . . Then just pick one out for her if that worries you. She needs something nice.”
    For the first time since they’d met, Merry was absolutely sure that beneath that icy exterior beat a heart of gold.
    “Pay dirt!” Merry crowed when Jack opened the third trunk. She lifted an old photo album out of the depths and laid it on the floor between them. Carefully she opened the cover.
    The photos inside had been pasted onto the pages with paper corners, the glue on which had disintegrated long ago.
    “Well, what do you know?” Jack picked up a photo of a somber-faced gentleman grimly staring at the camera. The Minneapolis Great Northern Depot loomed behind him. There was another of him at Navy Pier. “This is the man for whom Frost was named, and that’s some of his work.”
    “He designed some very important buildings,” Merry said, impressed. “Frost should be proud.”
    The next album she took from the trunk was considerably newer. She opened it and a familiar face stared back at her. “Jack, is this you?”
    He leaned close, and his shoulder brushed hers. She was acutely aware of him. A pleasant little shiver flickered through Merry. Jack, however, seemed not to notice.
    He studied the photo briefly. “That’s my father. He’s standing next to his aunt who owned this house.”
    “You look just like him. What a gorgeous man he is!” Merry realized what she’d said only after it was too late to stop herself.
    Jack looked amused. “So are you saying that I’m gorgeous too?”
    Merry’s mouth worked but nothing came out. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . . Well, yes, I guess I did. Please don’t take offense!”
    “Offense? Hardly. I should kiss you for a compliment like that . . .” Now it was Jack’s voice that faded as they stared at each other.
    He cleared his throat. “Now it’s your turn to be offended. I didn’t mean . . .”
    Merry laughed. “Touché, now we’re even.”
    “Awkward begets awkward, I guess.” His smile was genuine.
    She returned to the album and flipped the page. There were more photos of Jack’s father and his aunt, then some with a slender, beautiful woman in a white dress. Her dark hair curled around her face, and she was laughing. Merry held out the album to Jack.
    “My mother.” He said nothing more.
    “She’s stunning. Was she a model or an actress?”
    “No. Just a mother.”
    It was odd, the way he said it. He obviously didn’t want to discuss her further.
    The next page held a family photo. She immediately recognized Jack’s parents. With them were two young boys dressed in matching shorts and shirts. Their knees were scuffed but every hair on their heads was plastered into place. One