LOVE in a Small Town (Ladies of Legend Boxed Set)

by Janet Eaves

  “Hell if I know, Betsy. She sure didn’t tell me you were coming to town. She just said a friend of theirs would be coming to Legend to house-sit while they’re gone. D’you think I’d be here if I’d known the friend was you?”

  “How would I know what you’d do? How would I know anything about you? I never hear from you. LizBeth Ann never hears from you. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on in your mind, Michael. I guess I never did.” She turned on her heel and left, then spun around in the hall and looked at him again. “I suggest you call your employer and tell him to have someone else do this job. Heaven forbid you would have to spend a moment’s time with your daughter!” She pulled the second walnut pocket door with such force that it slammed into the first one.

  “Hey! Easy with those!” she heard him yell as she headed up the stairs.

  What was I thinking, agreeing to house-sit? I don’t belong in Legend anymore. I’ve already got Matt Branson out there smirking about me dialing 9-1-1 to report Mike. That’ll be all over the county in fifteen minutes flat. I need to get to town and find someone else who can take over here, so LizBeth Ann and I can get out.

  She was ready for a change, after having given Atlanta a chance. Her things were stored… There was no permanent address for them anymore, anywhere, and no reason to get tied down. Betsy’s parents had died several years earlier, and her siblings were scattered all over the U.S. Betsy had been the last to leave Legend, hanging around because Mike McClain, her high school boyfriend, had asked her to marry him. In her blind devotion she’d said yes. Saying yes to Mike had been easy, for years. Until—

  The phone rang, and Betsy grabbed the extension at the top of the stairs. “Hello!”

  “Betsy, honey, is that you?” Dorothy’s voice asked. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “Yes. It’s me,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Honey, I just called to see how everything is. Um… Is the carpenter there yet? I do hope he can get the library done before I return. I want to have an open house for it right away.”

  Any excuse for a party. Betsy couldn’t quite stop a smile. She said pointedly, “You failed to mention the name of the carpenter who’s working on this job, Aunt Dorothy.”

  A soft sigh. “Betsy, you know I can’t help myself. I’m one of those incurable romantics, I guess. You and Mike—I think you gave up too easily.”

  “Easily? You have no idea!”

  “No, and I don’t need to. What I believe though, is that you children can work things out.”

  “I’m not sure we can even have a civil conversation.” Betsy twirled a finger in one of her long golden blonde curls.

  “That needs to change, honey. It’s not just you I’m thinking about, either. What about LizBeth Ann? Doesn’t she deserve to know her daddy?”

  The fault for LizBeth Ann not knowing her daddy lay squarely with Mike, but Betsy wouldn’t go into that. Dorothy was sweet, but naïve. She had no idea what had gone on before Betsy took her daughter and left Legend. Nor what had happened since. Best to just let her be in a state of blissful ignorance, let the matchmaking effort fail, and go on with life as it was.

  “And he obviously has a key to the house. You didn’t mention that, either. He scared me to death this morning making all that noise at the crack of dawn. I wish you’d told me.” She leaned her head against the wall. “I just wish you’d told me.”

  “And if I had told you?” Dorothy paused. “Right. You wouldn’t have come back to Legend. I need you there, Betsy, and I think you know Legend is where you belong. Where LizBeth Ann belongs. But I also need Mike doing the work he’s doing. You’re both adults. I’m sure you can at least muddle through, even if you don’t get back together. Listen, he’s good at carpentry. Very good. He has a natural aptitude for beautiful woodworking, and he’s learned a lot in the short time he’s been working for Greg. Men like him have practically vanished from the face of the earth, you know. And artists can be so temperamental! Your job is to take good care of him for me. So there you have it.”

  So there I have it again! Okay, good carpenters are hard to find, I guess. Therefore I’m supposed to not only house-sit, but babysit the carpenter, so the library can have a “coming out” party. Lovely.

  Dorothy broke in on her thoughts. “So, you’ll get along with Mike, right?”

  “I won’t leave the house unattended. Um—I need to go now, okay? LizBeth Ann just woke up.” A little white lie wouldn’t hurt anything.

  After the call ended, Betsy walked slowly into the cheerful bedroom. This was supposed to be a time for them to rest, regroup. A time for Betsy to rethink and make some plans. At least, that’s what she’d expected. She’d known Mike probably still lived in Legend, and that there were lots of the McClain family around, some of whom might be unpleasant to her because she had left Mike. But she didn’t expect to have to deal with him this soon.

  LizBeth Ann awoke with a smile when Betsy sat next to her on the bed and sang the little song she’d made up, and which she greeted her daughter with each morning. A while later she had helped her dress in a pair of red shorts and a white tee shirt with a colorful flower embroidered on the chest, and was picking out her silky blonde curls. They were too tight to comb or brush without a lot of pain involved. Betsy knew from her own experience how that was. Most of her adult life she’d kept her hair short, like LizBeth Ann’s was now. But since leaving Legend she had let it grow. She couldn’t cut it herself without botching it, and hadn’t been able to chisel time out of her schedule that would match her pricey beautician’s quirky hours. So she had let it grow and now it was way past her shoulders. Long blonde ringlets all over, and in summer like now, humid days made it swell up like a big rain cloud. Sometimes she pulled it into a high pony tail when she was cleaning, or did two braids just for fun. When she did that she looked younger, too. At twenty-three, she didn’t feel young anymore. Being a single parent was hard work. But even when she and Mike were together, Betsy had been forced to function like a single parent. Her husband had been no help at all. Except for eating the food Betsy cooked—which to be honest was no big thrill—and sleeping in the bed with her, he might as well not have existed. Only once had she left him alone with LizBeth Ann, for twenty minutes while she ran to the Piggly Wiggly for a gallon of milk. When she got out of the VW she could hear the screaming, and as she stepped through the front doorway of their little rental house, Mike deposited the child in her arms and left. He was gone overnight, and she worried about him some. Nothing was wrong with her daughter that she could tell, though there was evidence of an unpleasant diaper change in the bathroom.

  Their relationship grew increasingly more strained after that. Betsy continued to work fulltime for Martin McClain in his real estate office, and Mike picked up odd jobs whenever he felt like it. He’d never had a job that paid well. The only one with a decent wage had been in the factory that shut down shortly after Mike was hired. Betsy’s salary as a receptionist was enough to keep them going simply because Martin, a first cousin of Mike’s, paid her more than he should have, and they rented the little house from Mike’s parents for a ridiculously small amount. If it hadn’t been for the McClains, the tiny family couldn’t have made it. The McClains were like that, of course. Fiercely dedicated to each other. So supportive it was almost scary at times. But of course Betsy wasn’t a McClain. Mike was.

  And now he seemed to have a decent job, not working for a family member, which was a surprise. Maybe he’d stay with this one. Maybe Greg Whoever could teach him some skills so he didn’t have to slide from one menial job to the next. He should have gone to trade school, but by the time he considered it they were married and needed his income, however sporadic. They’d made some stupid mistakes early on, and were still paying for them. So was LizBeth Ann, and that was the worst of it.

  “Mommy, what’s that noise? Is that the man that made Aunt Dorothy’s big mess?”

  “Hm. Yes. He does seem to make a big mess.” She kis
sed the toddler’s nose. “Let’s go get some breakfast!”

  “Okay. But first I wanna see that messy man. Can we?”

  Of course she had to deal with it. She couldn’t pretend there weren’t horrendous sounds coming from the library. She couldn’t pack her daughter up in the little Bug and head out of Legend, much as she yearned to. Resignation weighing heavily on her, Betsy held out her hand and pasted a smile onto her face. “Okay. First we’ll meet the messy man.”

  If Mike screwed this up, she’d… Well, she wasn’t sure on that. But he’d regret it one way or another.

  She’d make certain of it.

  ****

  LizBeth Ann held onto the banister with one hand and her mother with the other, as the two of them descended the front staircase to the entryway. Her short blonde curls bounced with each step. Betsy had washed their faces but skipped her makeup because she didn’t want Mike to think she’d made any effort for him. She wouldn’t make any effort for him. Not anymore. Her low-cut jeans were clean but close to wearing out, and her navy blue tee shirt was nondescript. Her hair lay in a profusion of blonde curls around her shoulders and down her back. She allowed herself the wicked thought that she might look sexy yet disinterested. It wouldn’t hurt to let Mike think about how much he had thrown away.

  At the closed library doors, LizBeth Ann put up her little fist and knocked. Of course it couldn’t be heard over the din. But the racket suddenly stopped. She knocked again, and a heavy sigh sounded from inside the library. Something heavy was dropped to the floor, footsteps approached, and one of the doors was pulled back.

  The child looked almost straight up at the tall dark-haired man before her. She examined his features, tipping her head to one side in concentration. Her pale brow furrowed.

  “Are you the man that made Aunt Dorothy’s big mess?”

  The hint of a smile turned up one corner of his beautifully sculpted mouth.

  “Afraid so.”

  “Oh.” She tipped her head the other direction, and squinted at him. “Cuz… Well, cuz you look like my daddy.”

  Mike’s jaw dropped and his eyes flew to Betsy’s. She just stared.

  “You wanna help me out here?” he asked.

  “No, actually.” She crossed her arms over her chest. I want to watch you squirm.

  Bending his tall frame down to get as close to LizBeth Ann’s eye level as he could, he looked at her. The near-smile was gone, but his eyes showed that some strong emotions were at war inside him.

  “LizBeth Ann, you’re right about that. I—I am your daddy. But we haven’t seen each other in a long time. How did you recognize me?”

  “I have your picture in my room. Um. In my old room I did.” She reached out her little hands and cupped his face. “I didn’t know how you felt, but I could see your face.”

  “Oh my God.” His voice came out as a whisper, and Mike’s stricken eyes looked up at Betsy. She wiped at the tears streaming down her face. Would he touch her? Would he give his little girl the first hug she’d had from him?

  LizBeth Ann didn’t wait to find out. She moved her hands from his face to around his neck, and stepped between his legs as he balanced on one knee. She leaned against him and patted his shoulder.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Daddy.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Chapter Three

  Awkwardly he put one arm around her and patted her back.

  It could have been so beautiful, instead of only heartbreaking, this reunion. Betsy ground her teeth. How could the man be so cold? How could he hold his own daughter and not really hold her? He looked as stiff as a cardboard cut-out.

  “Well. LizBeth Ann, let’s go get that breakfast started.” She smiled and held out her hand.

  Immediately Mike dropped his arm, stood up and stepped back. “Right. And I need to get to work.”

  “I think you were going to call your employer this morning. Have you done that?”

  “No ma’am.” He gave her a thorough head-to-toe appraisal. “I’ll talk to him later. He’s busy with a job.” Turning his back, he picked up the discarded crowbar. The screeching of nails being ripped from their years-long residence in solid wood effectively ended the conversation. Betsy took her daughter’s hand and quickly left the room, closing the door a little less violently this time.

  While preparing breakfast, Betsy silently gave herself a pep talk. This didn’t have to be horrible. Her only responsibility in the house was to keep the place clean and make sure nothing drastic happened. The pantry and chest freezer were well-stocked and Dorothy expected the food to be used. She had made a point of that in the invitation, and again yesterday during the tour. It was ideal for the two of them while they were between jobs and homes. The only possible glitch was the unexpected duty of making sure the carpenter was happy. By tomorrow, or preferably this afternoon, it would be a different carpenter.

  It really isn’t asking that much. I can do this. I can do this…

  In spite of herself, she pictured him. Six foot two, even more powerfully built than she remembered, with too-long brown hair falling over his forehead. Brown, brown eyes, a face that would have done a romance cover model proud… and wearing beat-up jeans and a brown pocket tee shirt with a tiny tear at the pocket’s edge. Not that she’d really looked at him. Um. Right. She didn’t even believe that one. The man was a couple hundred pounds of rock-hard gorgeous, and she didn’t like the thoughts that went through her mind when she’d seen him first thing this morning, or right now, when she was—

  “Mommy!” LizBeth Ann had crawled down from her perch on the bar stool and was tugging on Dorothy’s wild floral apron Betsy had pulled on to cover her clothes. “Mommy, you’re burning the eggs!” Half an hour later, with the windows flung open to let out the smell of charred eggs, and new ones successfully cooked and served with sausage, toast, a banana and a glass of orange juice, they could enjoy their meal.

  “You need to fix some more breakfast for me to take to my daddy. Okay?”

  Betsy looked up from her plate, weighing the request.

  “Maybe don’t fix eggs this time?”

  Swallowing her pride and knowing she couldn’t gracefully get out of it, Betsy finished her last sip of coffee. “Okay, honey. And definitely no eggs.” She found a tray in a lower cupboard. Coffee, black. A carafe of it, because Mike was a big coffee drinker. A large mug, and a couple of napkins. Toast slathered with butter and jelly, some sausage and a banana. She let LizBeth Ann carry the toast on a plate, and she carried the rest toward the library, hearing the screeching grow louder with each step. At the library doorway, LizBeth Ann reached up and pulled one pocket door aside.

  “‘Scuse me!” LizBeth Ann cheerfully announced their arrival.

  Mike stopped in mid-yank of the crowbar and looked across the room. What an incredible sight the two of them were. Like two angels, with all that beauty and the amazing curly blonde hair. And those blue eyes. God, what an idiot he’d been to let Betsy go. To practically drive her away. She was still a tiny thing, but more curvy than before. There was a little slice of skin visible between the tee shirt and those low slung jeans. Who’d been enjoying that while she was away from Legend? He felt his hand tighten on the crowbar. And whose fault was it?

  And LizBeth Ann. She was a miniature of her mom, with maybe something around her eyes that made her look like a McClain. She had a wisdom in her eyes, too. Like she’d seen more than she should have at her tender age. Not that he’d know what she’d seen, or been through. Not that he’d ever made an attempt to keep in touch.

  “We thought maybe you’d like a coffee break.” Betsy’s voice was matter of fact. No doubt it had been his daughter’s idea and not hers. Betsy wanted him gone. From the house, from her life, from the earth if possible, he imagined.

  Fine. He’d talk to Greg and see what could be done. Being here on this job wasn’t his fault. At least he wasn’t taking any blame for that, no matter what she said.r />
  “Well, now. Isn’t that nice?” He smiled at LizBeth Ann and created a makeshift picnic table of sawhorses and a piece of plywood. Betsy set the tray on it and stepped back so her daughter could put the plate of toast onto the tray as well.

  She did so, smiling broadly. “You know what? My name’s LizBeth Ann, but some people call me Princess.”

  He cocked his head to one side and couldn’t help smiling back. “I bet they do. And what a lovely princess you are, too. Good manners even, and lots of princesses don’t have good manners these days.” He solemnly lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, then managed a small bow. LizBeth Ann giggled.

  “You need to eat your breakfast, ‘cuz toast gets cold fast.” She beamed at him. “We didn’t bring any burned eggs.”

  “Oh. I wondered what that smell was.” He glanced at Betsy and she shrugged and quickly turned her head away.

  Mike pulled a big rolling toolbox over and used it as a chair, and took a deep swig of coffee. “Mmm. This coffee is way better than burned eggs, anyway.”

  LizBeth Ann stood beside him while he ate, her little hand resting on his shoulder. When he dropped his napkin she picked it up and spread it across the knee of his beat-up jeans. The sweetness of the child made it hard for him to swallow correctly. As far as the food, it wasn’t bad. Better than Betsy used to make. Evidently she’d been practicing. Again, none of his business who she’d been practicing for. Or with.

  The past hung like a shroud over him and Betsy. Thank goodness LizBeth Ann appeared to be unaware of it. She seemed like a happy kid. Evidently his absence from her life hadn’t made much difference. At least, not a negative difference. Mike knew it was the best thing for her. He watched the little girl tiptoe through the refuse on the floor, occasionally stooping to look at something closer, but not picking anything up.

  Maybe Betsy’d find a good guy sometime soon and provide her daughter with a father figure. Maybe the new husband would want to adopt her, even.