Trying not to laugh, Gloria stripped off the sodden pajamas, soothing and assuring Christi that the deputy didn’t mean to spill her milk. After dabbing up all the milk she could with the now-soaked towel, she hefted the child up onto her hip and turned to Ned. The miserable look on his face gave her pause. “Don’t worry,” she assured both parties. “Nothing a bath won’t fix.”
As she headed across the room, Ned found his voice. “I’ll m—mop up…” but Gloria was gone, along with his chance to tell her how he felt.
* * *
The tapping came again, interrupting Gloria’s dreams of doing dishes at the park in the snow. Cracking one eye open she lifted her head. “What is it?” she croaked.
Fergus creaked open the door and stuck his head through. Seeing that she was covered, he hobbled into the room. “This was on the back step,” he said holding out an envelope. “Seems to me, this is turnin’ into a thing…”
Instantly awake, but not wanting her grandfather to see her excitement, she reached for the letter. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
The old man pondered her for a moment, maybe waiting to see if she’d open the envelope, but finally, he turned to shuffle from the room. At the door he paused, giving her that all-knowing look only grandfathers have.
“Do you know who’s leaving these?” she asked hopefully, rubbing one eye.
The old man’s face didn’t give away a thing. He shrugged his shoulders, giving her the impression he knew, but if she didn’t, he wasn’t going to spill the beans. She gave him a pleading look, but he shook his head and turned to leave.
Holding the letter to her chest, Gloria stared at the ceiling. What would this one say? Her mind was still foggy with dreams and sleep, giving her thoughts an ambiguous fussiness. The night before tumbled around in the mix. The storm had cleared not long after she’d finished bathing Christi and tucked her back into bed. Then Robert’s mother had arrived, excited and concerned about the kids and the new baby. It had been well past midnight by the time Gloria had returned home and fallen into bed.
The memory of Ned’s face when Christi’s milk spilled, came to mind, and she chuckled. He was a good guy, and he tried hard. Her brow creased. What exactly was the deal with him anyway?
A rooster crowed outside, and Fergus’ old truck grumbled to a start. She knew there was a good six inches of new snow to be dealt with, and she’d threatened Fergus with mutiny if he so much as touched the shovel. She’d better get up and get busy. But first, the letter.
Almost reverently, she slid her thumb under the flap, carefully separating the paper flap from the back of the envelope, and pulled out the single sheet of paper. Once again, the lines were artfully written in the center of the page.
When I saw you at the park last night, Elvis’ words came to mind~
Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be
Take my hand, take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you
As she read the note, her heart filled and ran over. Whoever had written the letter had seen her the night before, at the park. Who on earth was it?
She folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope, her mind spinning with possibilities. One thing was for sure, she reasoned, this man had genuine feelings for her. She didn’t have to wonder if she was reading him wrong, and he didn’t seem to have an ulterior motive. As a matter of fact, he didn’t want anything from her in return, and that was something special.
* * *
Bells over the door jingled, sounding festive, as Ned tromped into the diner, stomping snow off his uniform boots. Let it Snow pumped from the jukebox in the corner, and combined with the tinsel draped over the photos on the wall; the café had a definite festive vibe.
Marge looked up from her conversation with Willie. “Hey, Deputy, about frozen solid?”
Ned tugged off his gloves and thumped them together, dropping snow onto the doormat. “Not yet, b—but pretty darn close,” he joked, heading for his usual stool. “Hey, Willie,” he greeted the old man as he pulled off his uniform cap and placed it on the counter.
“He’s got a fancy new coat,” Marge said, motioning for Willie to show the deputy.
The old man stood and tugged the coat up from the stool next to him. “This is the finest coat I ever seen.” He beamed. “It’s pure wool, or maybe even cashmere.”
“Cashmere?” Marge snorted.
Willie shrugged, holding the coat up for a better look. “I just know it’s the best coat I ever had.”
Ned smiled to himself, admiring the coat, but mostly enjoying Willie’s happiness. “Very nice. Is it warm?” he asked carefully, feigning polite indifference.
“Warmest ever!” Willie assured, replacing the coat so he could sit. “It was left in a box on my porch yesterday.”
“A Christmas gift,” Marge added over her shoulder as she reached for the coffee pot. “With no return address.”
“Isn’t that something,” Ned said, pushing his coffee mug toward the waitress.
Marge poured the brew, steam rising into the room over the cup, as her eyes flitted from Ned to Willie, then back. “Someone was very generous, and it’s made Willie extremely happy.” She moved down the counter to refill the old man’s mug. “Hasn’t it, Willie.”
“Darn tootin!” the old man huffed, nodding his thanks to Marge.
Uncomfortable with talk of the coat, Ned shifted the conversation. “How about that snow?”
“Eh, this ain’t nothin’.” Willie shrugged, lifting his cup for a careful taste, least the coffee be too hot. It was, so he lowered the cup. “Back in sixty-four, we got ten feet of snow in less than an hour.” Blowing on the coffee, he completely missed the pointed looks between Ned and Marge. “Maybe it was eleven feet,” he muttered to himself, staring off into space.
Marge shook her head. Then focused once again on Ned. “That was quite the excitement at the park last night,” she said, hoping for a bit of gossip.
Ned didn’t bite. “Could I have four scramble eggs please, w—with salsa on the side?”
Marge’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Hmfff.” She sniffed. “What is this?”
“What’s what?” Ned asked, knowing full well he’d never ordered his eggs with salsa. A strange order was enough to send Marge into fits, and he knew it, but he was in a salsa mood this morning, no help for it. Hiding a grin, he lifted his cup for a sip, savoring the smell of the strong coffee as if it were a woman’s perfume.
The old waitress plopped her fists on both hips and stared hard at the deputy. “What’s happened?” she demanded. “You never—”
Ned settled his cup back onto its saucer and raised one hand to stop her. “I just figured we’d celebrate the newest member of Smithville.”
“Nadine’s baby?” She gasped, forgetting all about the egg order. She leaned over the counter, her eyes wide. “Is the little thing okay? How early is it? Oh, I was so worried when I heard she’d been taken away in the ambulance.”
Ned chuckled at her excitement. “Well,” he drawled, “it’s not m—my story to tell, but I hear all is w—well with mother and baby.”
“Is it a boy or a girl? How much does it weigh? How long was she in labor?”
Ned ignored her deluge of questions and sipped his coffee. She should know by now that he wouldn’t share info he picked up in the line of duty.
* * *
“You put that down this instant and get in here!” Winnie demanded from the front porch.
Gloria leaned on the snow shovel, breathing hard. “I promised Tara I’d get this, so go back inside and make hot cocoa. I’ll be in in a minute.” She went back to work then, lifting the shovel to finish scraping snow from the walks of the real-estate office.
“I don’t understand,” Winnie continued. “Justin usually comes to shovel the walks.”
Gloria stopped shoveling again and wiped her forehead with the back of her glove. “I know, but he
had an early meeting in Uniontown, and I didn’t want Tara to bring the baby out in this weather,” she explained.
Winnie looked unsure, but she took a step back toward the door, pulling her cardigan sweater tighter across her chest. “Well, if you’re sure. But you had better come in for that cocoa.”
A grin bloomed across Gloria’s face. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she assured the old woman, then motioned with her glove. “Now get back inside where it’s warm.”
Winnie headed back inside and closed the door, and Gloria returned to her shoveling. About the time she reached the end of the driveway, Ned’s patrol car pulled up. His window whirred down, and he grinned at Gloria. “Shovel duty, eh?”
Now winded, Gloria propped her arm on the end of the shovel. Taking advantage of the break, she unzipped her coat and shrugged out of it, relieved to feel the cold air pierce the layers of clothing and reach her overheated skin. “This is always harder work than I think it will be,” she said with a chuckle.
Noting the flush on her cheeks and her heaving chest, Ned’s pulse picked up. How he wished she was his, and he could be honest with her, tell her everything. He’d love to tell her about work, the diner, the letters, and his upcoming events in Pittsburgh.
“I’m finished, and Winnie made cocoa,” she said, motioning over her shoulder. “Will you join us?”
He knew he shouldn’t, but Winnie made the best cocoa east of the Mississippi. “I’d love to,” he said. Without waiting for Gloria’s to respond, he backed up the patrol car and pulled into the freshly shoveled drive.
Chapter Eleven
Steam rose from the fresh sugar cookies on the cooling rack, drawing Ned’s attention the minute he came through the back door. Christmas carols played on Winnie’s old radio, and the house smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin bread.
“Morning, Deputy,” Winnie chimed over her shoulder as she heated milk for the cocoa on the replica nineteenth-century stove.
“Morning, W—Winnie,” he returned, his gaze scanning the room for Gloria. Not finding her, he leaned to one side to peer into the living room.
“She’s washing up.” Winnie chuckled, causing the deputy to straighten and tug off his uniform cap, feeling guilty for being caught. The old woman eyes him in speculation, a grin playing at the corner of her puckered mouth. “I think I’m the fifth house she’s dug out so far this morning.”
Ned’s heart swelled as he ran his fingers through his hair and returned his cap. Where did the girl get all her energy?
“Sit, sit,” Winnie said, motioning with one hand toward the large kitchen island. Although Tara had not necessarily intended the island to be a gathering spot for the community when she’d remodeled the kitchen years ago, the wide, welcoming surface had become just that.
Ned pulled up a stool and reached for a cookie.
Winnie handed him a small china dish, and he slid the hot cookie onto the plate, but not before sneaking a bite.
The old woman chuckled. “Those are too hot to eat.”
Carefully chewing, Ned nodded, winced once or twice, but finally swallowed. “I know,” he admitted. “B—but they’re irresistible.”
Gloria emerged from the washroom off the back of the kitchen, her cheeks, ears, and nose, still red from the cold. She looked like a cheerful elf, and Ned’s heart did a flip-flop in his chest when she grinned.
“Whew!” she exclaimed, pulling up a stool and climbing aboard. “That was a workout.”
“Who all did you get?” he asked, taking another bite of the cookie.
Pretending not to know what he was talking about, Gloria hunched her shoulders and turned to Winnie. “Need any help with the cocoa?”
Winnie returned to the island with four stout ceramic mugs. “No, dear, you rest.”
A knock sounded on the back door and Ned, being closest, stretched out a long arm to answer it.
Julia stood on the back porch, wrapped in scarves and outdoor gear, her arms heaped with freshly cut pine boughs. All that showed between the tree limbs and the cuff of her knitted cap were her blight blue eyes.
“M—miss Julia,” Ned greeted, jumping up and stepping back to hold the door open wide so she could enter.
“I figured you’d be coming by any minute,” Winnie said, reaching for the pine boughs. “Let me put these in the washroom, and you can join us for a cup of hot cocoa.”
Unwinding the scarf from across her face, Julia took a long sniff. “Smells amazing in here.”
“It’s these,” Ned said holding up the remains of his cookie. “Th—they’re phenomenal, as always.”
By the time Julia had removed her outdoor gear and joined the couple on a stool at the island, Winnie had returned from the washroom. A fluffy black kitty sashayed into the kitchen, and Julia momentarily forgot about the cookie she was reaching for. Sliding from her stool, she bent to scoop up the cat. “Elvis!” she exclaimed. “How is my beautiful girl?” She cooed, lifting the cat to her cheek to nuzzle her fur.
Ned’s brow crinkled, and he looked to Winnie in question. “I’ve n—never understood why she’s named Elvis.”
The old woman chuckled and collected the hot cocoa pan from the stove. “It’s a long story, honey.” Then, without further explanation, she poured cocoa into each mug.
Julia let the cat down to rub against their stools, and collected her cup of cocoa. “It’s my fault, deputy,” she said, taking a careful sip from the steaming mug. The drink was still too hot, so she took a long sniff of the succulent treat, then lowered the mug to the countertop. “You’ll have to come over and meet my cats.”
Taking another bite of cookie, Ned nodded in agreement, then swallowed. “I need to come by. I’ve been meaning to ask Chad some questions about his truck anyway. I think I may need some help hauling the toys-for-tots load to Uniontown.”
“I’m on it,” Gloria interrupted, her mouth half full of cookie. She swallowed, one hand covering her mouth, then continued. “He’s already agreed. He said Thursday would be good.”
Ned looked confused for a minute. “Are you involved with toys-for-tots?”
Winnie and Julia both scoffed at his question.
Plopping her cup onto the counter, Winnie waved her hand. “She’s involved with every charity organization around these parts.”
Gloria blushed anew. “No, not all of them.”
Julia reached for another cookie. “You’re managing every one I know of.”
Embarrassed, Gloria shifted on her stool and swirled the cocoa in her mug. “I just know how it can be for kids,” she drawled.
Seeing her discomfort, Ned changed the subject. “What are all the pine boughs for?” he asked Winnie.
The old woman’s eyes twinkled. “To make swags for the front porch. They smell is so welcoming, don’t you think?”
The young people all nodded in agreement.
Julia drained the last drop of cocoa from her cup and placed her mug on the counter. Gloria giggled over the thick chocolate mustache left on the tiny blonde woman’s mouth, motioning to her friend by touching her own top lip. Julia blushed and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Everyone chuckled, and Winnie handed her a paper towel.
Wiping her hands and chin on the towel, Julia grinned. “What’s hot chocolate without a mustache, right?”
“Right,” the group agreed.
The merry tune of Jingle Bells came on the radio and Winnie turned to Ned. “I saw that you put up Christmas lights on your mother’s house.”
Ned nodded. “You know my dad won’t do it. He put his foot down years ago, and it became my job.”
Well, I know your mother appreciates it,” Winnie said.
“They’re beautiful,” Gloria added. “Like a fairyland.
“They’re a pain is what they are,” Ned scoffed.
“I love Christmas lights,” Julia said, her face dreamy.
“Me too,” Gloria affirmed. “The holidays wouldn’t be the same without twinkling lights.”
Ned raised
his hands in submission and laughed. “Okay, okay, I c—can see when I’m outnumbered.”
Julia climbed off her stool and reached for her coat and scarf. “I really should be going. I have other stops to make.”
Winnie stood with a grunt, then came around the island to hug Julia. “Thank you so much for the delivery, dear.”
“Not a problem,” Julia assured, returning the hug with gusto. “I adore you.”
Ned and Gloria observed the exchange with full hearts. They knew Julia didn’t have much family, and they were happy to see that Winnie had adopted her as a granddaughter. I’ll Be Home For Christmas rang from Winnie’s radio as Ned and Gloria made eye contact. A moment of pure Christmas joy and friendship passed between them. Not only because they got to be a part of small connections like this one, but because Smithville, in general, was a place of many warm friendships and adopted families.
The hug ended and Julia, draped in her gear, headed out the door. Winnie returned to her stool just as Ned stood to leave. “I’m on duty,” he said, motioning toward the door. “I better get m—moving as well.”
Winnie went to slide off her stool again, but he held up his hand. “Don’t get up. I know my way to the door.”
The old woman settled back onto her perch.
“I’m glad you came in,” Gloria said, meaning every word. Ned was a good friend, and she felt bad about doubting him the night before. She must have been overtired, what with the baby excitement and all.
“Thanks for the cocoa and the cookie,” Ned said to Winnie. With his hand on the doorknob, he chanced a look at Gloria.
“You’ve very welcome, dear,” Winnie assured the man.
Ned bobbed his head toward the women, then turned to leave.
“I’ll see you soon,” Gloria chimed as he headed out the door.
He tossed her a warm grin. “I’m c—counting on it,” he said, then ducked out the door and closed it quietly behind him.
Hometown Series Box Set Page 92
