Dream a Little Dream

by Melinda Curtis

  They’d known each other since the early grades of elementary school, but they’d bonded when they were twelve and both staying at a juvenile center in Greeley. He’d been sent there for acting out after his father left town. He’d stolen a kid’s bike from school and then gotten into a wrestling match when the boy confronted him about it. His mother had been at a loss as to what to do with him so Judge George Harper had sentenced him to a weekend in juvy.

  Darcy was staying in juvy due to an accessory charge of helping her father steal cattle. There’d been some question about her involvement with the crime. She admitted having been there but told Jason she’d fallen asleep in the back seat.

  Back then, she’d taken one look at Jason and said, “You’re angry. You’ll never get out of here scowling like that. People—the ones who set you free—they want to see you smile instead. Just a little. It makes them think you’ve learned your lesson and are willing to obey the rules.”

  He’d been trying to work that smile to his advantage ever since, frequently with her. But it occurred to him that his smile and the pleasure of his company hadn’t helped Darcy reach her dreams. She’d done that with George’s help. And when she’d returned to the courtroom for her second case, she’d had a smile all her own.

  “Darcy did good today, didn’t she?” he asked Iggy.

  “I got news for you, buddy.” Iggy watched Priscilla Taylor, one of Sheriff Taylor’s younger sisters, as she tugged a cowboy from Tom Bodine’s ranch onto the dance floor. “We didn’t spend all morning watching the Super Bowl. We sat in court. The first hour was amusing. But I refuse to go into a play-by-play of the rest or listen to you recap. We have a problem, you and me. And I’m not talking about women. Tom Bodine is a pain in the butt.”

  “I’m assuming our lawyers are battling it out.” Jason nodded toward Pris on the dance floor, moving in time to the beat of a jukebox song. “Now, make this night worth it for one of us. Go cut in and dance with Pris.”

  “She’s past history.” Iggy scowled into his beer, an indication that he might want to revisit the past. “Tom is our current problem. While you were fixing your mother’s fences this afternoon for those mini horses of hers, three local ranchers canceled orders.”

  “Dang. You think Tom Bodine pressured them to do it?” Jason scowled as his gaze landed on Tom’s employee on the dance floor. “Talk about fighting dirty.”

  Iggy leaned forward, dark eyes blazing. “I think we should countersue. Claim libel or damages or something.”

  “Pain and suffering,” Jason muttered. “I have a feeling a countersuit won’t make Tom back off.” But he was at a loss as to what would.

  Iggy slouched in the booth. “If you’d competed this weekend and won…”

  Jason’s leg twinged. “Okay, stop. Do you even know how hard it is to ride a first-class bull after being off the circuit for so long?” He sat up taller. “I can practically guarantee you that I won’t win the first few times I score a ride.”

  “You go to the gym every day. You have muscle memory. I’m sure it’s like riding a bike.”

  “For sure, it’s that easy.” Jason gave Iggy a scornful look that contradicted his words. “A two-thousand-pound bike with an inherent mean streak. Piece of cake.”

  “We need to get you some practice rides, is all. Maybe buy a new breeding bull, one who’s rough around the edges.” Iggy sobered, staring toward the dance floor as the music slowed and the cowboy drew Pris closer. “You know, I think Tom would be happier if he was dating someone. He’s been a bear since his wife died. And then those twin boys of his hit puberty.”

  “Are you joining the Widows Club now?” Jason chuckled. “Dabbling in matchmaking?”

  “He could use your love advice.” Iggy’s grin returned. “Maybe you should ask him to be on that video show of yours.”

  “That is the worst idea you’ve had all day.” And Iggy was filled with bad ideas.

  “Not so fast. Think about it. The Widows Club can’t get Tom to participate in their functions.” Iggy drained his beer. “Who would date him? Who knows? We’d have to learn his interests, and in doing so, we’d find a vulnerability in this court case. Does he sit at home and watch sports? Don’t laugh. He’s a grown man. It’s not like he goes to bed right after dinner. And he’s too cranky to be bingeing movies every night on the Hallmark Channel.”

  “You could always ask his twin boys.” Jason caught Noah’s eye, indicating he was ready for the check. “I hear they’re working at the Burger Shack now.” The teens never worked anywhere very long. Last fall, they’d briefly worked for Jason and Iggy. “Maybe they could help us understand where Tom’s coming from and what woman in town would be perfect for him.” In theory, a happy Tom would be less vindictive.

  “Talk to the twins?” Iggy grinned. “That’s a great idea.”

  Wait. What? “Please don’t.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “It was all hypothetical. Imagine how Tom would react if he knew we were checking up on him.” Jason fixed Iggy with a hard stare, not that hard stares worked on his business partner when he got an idea in his head. “We did give him the product he paid for, didn’t we?”

  “We did.” But Iggy didn’t look at Jason when he said it. That might have been because Pris began kissing her dance partner.

  Or it might have been because Iggy lied.

  Chapter Eleven

  Darcy?” Someone rapped on the sunroom window, interrupting Darcy’s dream of Jason dressed only in chaps and boots as he carried her to bed. “Darcy?”

  Darcy nearly fell off the window seat. She clutched Stogey with one hand, but the file she’d been reading when she fell asleep slipped to the floor.

  Bitsy stood in the backyard near the sunroom window, waving in the early-evening light. Her black velvet headband was askew. She pointed to the kitchen door. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” Darcy set Stogey down, setting thoughts of bare-chested cowboys aside in the hopes that Bitsy had talked some sense into Pearl about possession of Stogey. Thinking of which, she’d forgotten to ask Jason about Tom Bodine suing him. She and Jason had a lot to talk about. Emphasis on talk. She couldn’t let this marriage go on. But she couldn’t bring herself to consider the options available for divorcing him either.

  Don’t tell yourself it’s only your career and his at stake. Your heart is involved too.

  Butt out, George.

  “I was going to call.” Bitsy didn’t waste time on pleasantries, charging into the kitchen as soon as Darcy opened the door, banishing all thoughts of husbands. “But I had to bring Mama bananas for her banana nut bread.” She held a pair of black bananas. “So I decided to come by and see how you’re doing.”

  “My dog and I are fine.” Darcy sat at the kitchen table. Stogey curled in a ball at her feet.

  Bitsy grimaced but hurried on as she pulled up a chair and set the bananas on the table. “You’ll be happy to hear Mama is more like herself.”

  “Grumpy? Bossy? Decisive?” Darcy emphasized this last. “After all, she decided to bring a lawsuit rather quickly.”

  Bitsy had the good grace to look pained. “I tried to talk her out of it. Honestly, I tried to talk him out of it too.”

  “Ah yes. Rupert is thrilled for a chance to come at me.” He’d sensed blood, his condescending expression dimming today in the courtroom only when two of his clients had decided to change their pleas to guilty and throw themselves on the mercy of the court.

  “He’s rather intense, isn’t he?” There was something odd in the tone of Bitsy’s observation, almost as if she admired Rupert. And she was blushing.

  Stogey ripped one of his raspberry gassers.

  “Oh?” Darcy reached down to give the dog a pat. “Sounds as if you’re intrigued by his intensity.” Do I use that tone when I talk about Jason?

  Yes, George grumped.

  “Oh, how I hate this.” Bitsy covered her face with her hands. “The last time it came around, I got married. Ca
n you just see me? With him?”

  Darcy sat back in her chair. “I think I missed something.” She hoped, anyway.

  Bitsy released a groan and dropped her hands. “You have to help me. I don’t think I can resist him on my own.”

  “You lost me somewhere between the door and your request for help.”

  The older woman latched on to Darcy’s hand. “I’m a widow-maker.”

  Darcy’s pulse quickened. “As in…a murderer?”

  “No, but I might just as well be. Every man I marry dies.” Bitsy’s features pinched. “My first marriage was a lifetime ago. I was in my twenties. We had two beautiful children, and then BAM! Jim died in a freak snow-skiing accident.” Bitsy’s eyes watered and she sniffed. “Time passed. Two years to be exact. I was restless. Lonely. And then I fell in love again. Terry was divorced. He had two kids. Years later, we married. Our families blended beautifully. And then BAM! He died while crop dusting.” Bitsy didn’t look at Darcy. She stared at those black bananas. “I told myself I’d be okay. I picked up the pieces. Moved on. I was going to be comfortable with widowhood. Time passed.”

  “Two years?” Darcy guessed.

  Bitsy nodded. “I met a wonderful man, also a widower with two kids. Wendell and I got married.”

  Darcy remembered Wendell. Or, more accurately, she remembered the house Wendell and Bitsy had lived in—a charming Craftsman with a colorful flower garden. Darcy and her brother used to sneak by there the night before Mother’s Day to pick flowers.

  You ought to apologize for that, George advised.

  You want me to apologize for every transgression? That’d take all day.

  Just the ones that weigh on your soul.

  Oblivious to Darcy’s internal conversation, Bitsy was still reminiscing. “Christmases were big affairs, what with six grown children and their expanding families coming to town to visit. I was gloriously happy. And then—”

  “BAM!” they said in unison, because Darcy had caught on to the trigger word.

  “Heart attack.” Bitsy laid her palms on the table, almost as if she were revealing her hand in a card game. “And now…”

  “Time has passed,” Darcy guessed.

  “Yes.” Bitsy pressed her palms over her cheeks. “Two years. And this morning, I saw Rupert, and something inside of me twitched.”

  “Rupert,” Darcy said slowly, thinking back to George’s funeral service with both Pearl and Bitsy in attendance. Rupert had snubbed Pearl, Darcy, and Bitsy. “But he’s—”

  “A jerk, I know.” Bitsy rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  “And he’s—”

  “Younger than I am, I know.”

  Not by much. Darcy guessed maybe eight years or so. And Pearl was a few years older than George. She didn’t understand the fuss. “If his age bothers you, why would you—”

  “Fall for him?” Bitsy dragged her fingers down her face, no longer teary. But she looked pained. “I don’t know. All I know is that’s how I roll when the two-year twitch hits.”

  “So?” Darcy put her chin on her palm, happy to hear about someone else’s love problems. “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?” Bitsy blinked. “About the inevitable love and loss?”

  “Don’t jump ahead. The jerk hasn’t expressed any interest in you.” Darcy didn’t sugarcoat it. “But yes. What are you going to do about Rupert and your mama and this two-year twitch?” And, more importantly, Pearl’s lawsuit?

  Bitsy opened her mouth. Closed it. And then said, “You were good in court today. Maybe a bit harsh on the punishments.”

  “Nice change of subject. I’m following the law, Bitsy.” Darcy prepared to loop back around to the lawsuit at the first opportunity. “George was quite good at handing down unconventional punishments to fit the crime. His detractors hated it, including your darling Rupert. But based on the appeals I was told are being filed because of my decisions, my detractors would prefer George’s sentences.” Go figure.

  “You’re judging yourself by George’s career,” Bitsy said absently. “You’ll never be like him.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Hurt, Darcy lifted Stogey into her lap, cuddling him close, needing someone on her side. Even if it was only a dog.

  Stogey licked her chin, loving her no matter what kind of judge she was.

  Blind loyalty. That’s what she used to think she got from Jason. And if she discounted corporately arranged kisses, maybe that’s what they’d had. If she still loved Jason, did that mean their marriage was inescapable, like Bitsy’s twitch?

  Stogey squeaked out some gas.

  That’s a no, George said.

  “I didn’t compare you to George as a put-down,” Bitsy clarified. “George had his time. Now it’s yours. You have to own it. It’s like…” She straightened the set of her layered sweaters. “It’s like finding a really cool vintage jacket and pairing it with a modern sundress.”

  That was saying a lot coming from Bitsy, whose entire wardrobe was vintage eighties.

  Bitsy brushed Darcy’s hair off her shoulder, the way a caring mother would. “Your hair is a lovely, sunny color. You should wear it down every day.”

  “You’re changing the subject again.” And yet part of Darcy fell for it. She ran her fingers through the hair she’d once flaunted with layered cuts and blended highlights. “I’m trying to establish myself in a man’s world. I want them to focus on my work, not my looks.”

  Bravo, George intoned.

  “Notice first impressions much?” Bitsy gave a weak chuckle. “Have you ever known a man to pay attention to an unfashionable woman? I put in decades at the cable company, and let me tell you that for women, dowdy is dismissible. Don’t give the Harper boys any reason to disparage you.”

  Objection! George railed.

  “I think I have to try it George’s way first.” With a heaping serving of Jones chutzpah.

  “If it works.” Bitsy patted Stogey’s head. “Do you think Rupert is safe from me?”

  “The femme fatale of Sunshine?” Darcy chuckled. “You’re worried your love will eventually lead to his demise?”

  “Don’t joke. I’ve buried three husbands on my watch.”

  “I think you’re safe. Rupert is in love with someone else.”

  Bitsy went mannequin still. “Who?”

  “Himself, of course.”

  They both laughed.

  “Seriously, Darcy, I don’t know what comes over me when the twitch strikes. I shouldn’t worry about Rupert. As you pointed out, he’s wrong for me on so many levels. In his eyes, I’m not datable. It’s not like you and Jason, practically perfect in every way.”

  Darcy remembered the way Jason had come to her after her court meltdown, so caring and supportive. “I have his friendship.”

  “And you have mine. But friendship won’t keep you warm on long, lonely nights.” Bitsy stood, paced, and stopped in front of Darcy. “Don’t lose sight of the big picture as you take on this new career. You need to come into your own at work and in your personal life. Life is about more than a day job.”

  “Yes.” Darcy couldn’t resist adding, “It’s about twitches and lawsuits.”

  “And which would you prefer if you could only have one?” Bitsy asked slyly.

  Darcy didn’t respond. It was a no-brainer.

  Where Jason was involved, she’d take the twitch.

  * * *

  Bitsy stopped by Mims’s house on the way home.

  “How did it go with Darcy?” Mims ushered Bitsy into the living room, where there was a fishing show on mute.

  Bitsy collapsed into a cushy chair. Her mission had been to gauge Darcy’s emotional state. She wasn’t going to tell Mims she’d let the conversation drift toward more personal matters pertaining to Bitsy’s heart. “Not surprisingly, Darcy is more focused on her career than on Jason.”

  “But she’s not anxious about becoming judge or overwrought about George’s passing?”

  “No. Maybe we should ho
ld off with the nudges until the end of summer.” By then Bitsy wouldn’t be rattled by the two-year twitch. “Darcy has a lot on her plate and busy people make fewer openings for love.”

  Mims shook her head. “We can’t let up now. Clarice is all in on the video blog and giving Jason his nudges.”

  Nudges. That’s what the widows called their activities, the ones they believed would lead toward a love match.

  “Why don’t I call in a few favors with some of our widowed sisters?” Mims picked up her phone. “I think Mary Margaret and Lola owe us a favor. And they might be able to help Darcy keep Jason top of mind.”

  * * *

  I SAW JASON JOGGING PAST YOUR PLACE THIS MORNING. ♥

  The text came in before six a.m. from Lola. She’d copied Mary Margaret and Avery. She was a die-hard romantic but not usually such an early riser.

  It was hard not to picture Jason running. He had a good body. A great body. His scars were like magnets to her fingers, the marks of a fearless warrior. Her skin prickled just thinking about him.

  Ahem. George came awake.

  Darcy shuffled out to the kitchen for a morning can of Coke. It was best to wait for Mary Margaret to put an end to Lola’s romantic intentions. She was the pragmatic friend in the group. But the airwaves were empty until after she’d showered.

  I SAW HIM LIFTING WEIGHTS AT THE GYM.

  That was Mary Margaret, absent any cautions about protecting Darcy’s heart.

  WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT THE GYM? Darcy asked. She wasn’t aware Mary Margaret did anything to stay fit except dance.

  I DROPPED OFF KEVIN FOR HIS WORKOUT. ☺ JASON WAS SWEATY.

  Darcy didn’t appreciate that Mary Margaret—who was practically married—was admiring Jason’s sweaty muscles.

  Really? George seemed pained.

  Darcy made it to the courthouse with Stogey before the next text arrived.

  HE SWUNG BY THE BAKERY FOR COFFEE. That was Avery. HAIR STILL WET BUT HIS BOOTS WERE ON.

  “Really?” Darcy adjusted her grip on Stogey’s bag, accidentally jolting him.