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

by Janet Eaves

  It didn’t take long to eat their fill. Mike stretched his long legs out on his bench, and soon LizBeth Ann crawled into his lap. Splashes of sun poked through the trees and dappled their faces. He closed his eyes and felt dreamy. This is so great. Almost like being a real family again. Just the way it ought to be.

  Betsy cleared her throat, spoiling the perfection of the moment. “Um. I have news.”

  Mike nearly fell off the bench, LizBeth Ann with him. He quickly caught himself though, and squeezed her tight, tickling her to try to make light of the almost-tumble.

  God! Surely not!

  “News?” Last time she’d uttered that sentence, “I have news,” she’d announced her pregnancy. It was early in the first year of their marriage, and not something Mike had wanted to hear. He wanted to hear it even less now. Who the hell…

  He looked at her. She was still smiling that happy smile. Oh, man.

  Betsy wrapped a long curl around one finger. “Yes! More than one!”

  More than one baby?

  “What?” He nearly shouted the question. LizBeth Ann turned around on his lap and stared at him.

  “For goodness’ sake, Mike. Can’t I have more than one bit of news?” She tossed the curl behind her shoulder, and sat up straighter. “Two things. I have a job, and a new place to live. Here in Legend!” Smiling again, she looked from Mike to LizBeth Ann, who was paying no attention to her but rather still staring at her dad.

  He looked down at his daughter and gave her a little smile, tweaked her nose. “That’s a relief—I mean—that’s good news, Betsy.” When he hazarded at glance at his almost-ex-wife, she was looking at him oddly. She’d have been looking at him way more oddly if she knew what he’d been thinking. Mike breathed deeply, slowly, trying to bring his blood pressure and heart rate back down to normal.

  “Okay!” The forced cheerfulness was stupid, but he just wanted to get it over with. “So, give. Details, please.”

  Betsy narrowed her gaze. “Hm. Well, on Monday I start working for Martin at the real estate office.”

  “Cool. The place has been a disaster since you quit. The whole family tells me that. They tell him, too.”

  “And as soon as Charles and Dorothy get home, probably also Monday, LizBeth Ann and I move into our new apartment.”

  LizBeth Ann, finally realizing the conversation had to do with her, slid off Mike’s lap and went to stand by Betsy.

  “Apartment?”

  “Yep! The best place in town!”

  Mike couldn’t guess. He watched LizBeth Ann’s furrowed brow as she concentrated too.

  “At Midnight’s, LizBeth Ann! In her upstairs!”

  The little girl jumped up and down and clapped her hands in delight. Obviously Midnight Shelby McClain had worked her magic on his daughter when he wasn’t looking. Great. He didn’t want to make a scene now, not with LizBeth Ann right there. Later, though, he’d talk to Betsy about it.

  “Well. We can talk about it later.”

  “Nothing to talk about, Mike. It’s all taken care of. I’m just letting you know.”

  “Well.” What else could he say without starting a fight?

  When they’d delivered LizBeth Ann to the tea party and she told them she’d see them again “in a minute”—her usual farewell—the two of them stepped back out onto the sidewalk.

  “We need to talk, Betsy. I have another place lined up for you.”

  “No need to talk. It’s taken care of. We’re moving into Midnight’s as soon as the house-sitting is done.” She smiled, but this time it wasn’t the happy kind, not even strained. More of a get out of my face smile.

  They walked down the sidewalk together. “This other place is a little house, not far from here. You’ll like it. Has a patch of yard for LizBeth Ann to play in.” He touched her arm. “Let’s walk over and see it.”

  “No!” She shook her arm away. “No thanks. I’m renting the apartment from Midnight. I don’t want a patch of yard to mow and mess with. I don’t have a mower, I don’t like the smell of gas, and LizBeth Ann and I both sneeze our heads off when we’re around newly-mown grass. I can take her to the park when she wants to play outside. The park is only a block from Midnight’s. In nice weather we can eat our meals on the back deck upstairs. She’ll love that. The apartment is beautiful, it’s close to everything—it’s just what we need. No house.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Now. I’m going in to visit with Midnight while the tea party is going. Are you picking up LizBeth Ann, or am I?”

  “I am. I promised.”

  “All right then. Bring her to The Emporium and we’ll go home from there.”

  “Not going in that place.”

  “What? You were muttering.”

  “Not going in that place.”

  “For heaven’s sake why not?”

  “Don’t want to. Don’t need a reason. We’ll go back down to the lake and give you a call on your cell. You can pick her up there.”

  “Mike, that is ridiculous. The Emporium is, what, two blocks from Lilly’s shop? Bring her…”

  “Not doing it, Betsy. That’s final.”

  “You’re being childish.”

  “You’re being unreasonable. I told you where we’d be.”

  “Mike!”

  He was done talking to her, and definitely done having a shouting match on a Main Street sidewalk. Women. Mike walked away in a hurry, went back into Lilly’s shop and parked himself in a corner watching the tea party and trying to forget his anger. If Betsy had asked him to take LizBeth Ann anyplace else in Legend, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But no way was he going back into The Emporium. Midnight had submarined him again.

  When the party was done he took LizBeth Ann’s little hand in his big one and they left the shop, walking north on Main Street. He had just lifted her onto his shoulders and was turning east on Second when Betsy popped out the door of The Emporium.

  “Hm. There you two are.”

  “Yep. We’re here.” Well, that was some timing.

  Betsy clearly wasn’t over being angry with him. That was fine, because he was still disappointed that she wouldn’t even look at the little house he’d found for her. Although…

  “Hey, if we turn here on Amber we can see the house I found. Corner of Amber and Oak. See? It’s really close to everything.”

  Betsy stopped, put her hands on her hips—never a good sign—and looked up at him.

  “No. House. Thank you very much for your efforts, Michael, but I am not interested. Got it?”

  Yeah. He definitely got it. A short while later she and LizBeth Ann drove off in the VW. No promise of getting together on Sunday. No hint of it, even. Mike got into his truck and gunned it, heading out of town into the mountains, where he could breathe.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I miss Daddy.” LizBeth Ann stared sullenly into the scrambled eggs she was pushing around on her plate, her fork making scraping sounds. She and Betsy were sitting on the terrace outside the little kitchen of their new apartment. The day was warm but not yet hot, a soft breeze blew, and birds were singing cheerfully. A perfect morning if you weren’t LizBeth Ann McClain.

  “I know you miss him, honey. You’ll see him again soon.”

  “I wanna see him now.” She frowned and looked up at Betsy.

  “You can’t see him right now. Sometimes we have to wait for things we want to do.”

  “I don’t wanna wait. Don’t wanna go to Grandpa McClain’s.”

  “Grandma and Grandpa said you can stay with them today while Mommy works. You like going there. Remember the doll house? And the yummy cookies?”

  “Hmmm. Yes. Why can’t you stay home with me?”

  “Because I have a job. Remember I always used to go to a job and you went to day care. Now you get to go to Grandma’s and play at her house.”

  “I wanna go to day care.”

  No, she didn’t. She just wanted to be the one who made the decisions. That, or she wanted to make the morning difficult. Betsy
sighed, pasted a smile on her face, and ate her own breakfast. She knew if LizBeth Ann refused to eat, it wouldn’t matter. Marie would feed her all day anyhow. Really, it seemed like a godsend that Marie had called Dorothy’s house and offered this. It was all falling into place. Marie would watch LizBeth Ann every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, she would stay with Dorothy on Tuesdays, and with Theresa, Joe’s wife, on Thursdays. As usual, the McClains had pitched in to help. Betsy was grateful for it, and for the fact that none of them had said anything unpleasant to her about—well, about anything. Since she’d come back to Legend, it was almost as if she’d never left. Everyone was just plain nice.

  But this was Wednesday, and she and LizBeth Ann had had the same conversation each morning since her first day at McClain Realty, two days ago. It was getting old. Betsy knew Mike had seen their daughter. He seemed to manage to do that every day, wherever she was staying. In fact, tonight he would have her for the evening. But Betsy hadn’t seen him or heard directly from him since right after the tea party on Saturday.

  “Remember this is the day you go with Daddy after work. He’ll pick you up at Grandma’s and take you for supper. Won’t that be nice?”

  She dropped her fork and sighed, staring into space. “Yes. Nice.”

  “LizBeth Ann! What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  Betsy swallowed the last of her coffee and picked up the place settings onto a small tray. She refused to give in to her daughter’s stubbornness. “Okay then. Let’s get going.”

  They walked to Bill and Marie’s in almost total silence, but when Marie answered the door LizBeth Ann dropped Betsy’s hand, ran to her grandmother and hugged her. Well, at least that was good. No worries that she actually disliked spending the day here. Betsy continued south on Mitchell Street and turned west on Legend Lane. This route took her through the park. She loved walking through here. She loved living right in town. She’d only driven her car twice since the day they’d moved their few belongings into the apartment—and that was to deliver LizBeth Ann to Dorothy, and pick her up after work. Even grocery shopping didn’t require a vehicle, since the Piggly Wiggly was diagonally across Main Street from The Emporium.

  “Hey Betsy.” Martin met her at the front door, having just parked his beat-up Jeep CJ in the lot.

  “Hey yourself.”

  He peered down at her. “Geez. Is that a frown? What’s wrong with you?” He opened the door and let her go in first, snapping on the light switch. “One of us has to be cheerful around here. I’m pretty sure that’s in your job description.”

  “The one that doesn’t exist?”

  “Yeah. That one.”

  “Well, as soon as you find it, we’ll take a look at the small print, okay?” She aimed a forced smile at him as she went about turning on the copier, the fax, and her computer. “I’ll get the water and start coffee. Maybe that’s the magic potion.”

  “Hm.”

  When she came back, he was sitting in one of the reception chairs, which he never did. Something must be up. Better not be something bad, because she wasn’t sure if she’d cry on him or yell at him.

  “Betsy, I know you haven’t really had a chance to get into the swing around here.”

  No! He was firing her?

  “Martin, I’m working hard. Trying to get up to speed. Everything was—well, kind of in chaos when I got here and I’m—”

  “Hey. Shut up. I’m trying to say something important. In fact, sit down. You’re making me nervous with all that flitting around.”

  She collapsed into her desk chair. “I don’t flit.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Betsy! You flit, and you always have. Shut up and let me talk!”

  She pursed her lips together. Any other boss talking to her like that would have her angry or hurt. But it was just Martin’s way. He was practically family, after all. She knew him as well as his own family. Better than some, probably.

  “So I wondered if you’d be interested.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, clearly waiting for her response.

  “Um. Sorry. I wasn’t really listening. Did you ask me a question?”

  Covering his face with his hands, he chuckled. “Geez, Betsy, you make my life miserable. You know that?”

  “No. I make your work life possible. That I know. So—I’ll listen now. Ask me the question.”

  “Okay.” He looked directly into her eyes, as if daring her to look away and lose her train of thought.

  “I said, would you be interested in working toward getting a realtor’s license?”

  “I—my—me? Seriously? Me?”

  “Good answer.” He got up, tapped the top of her computer monitor as he walked by toward his office. When he reached his office door down the hall, he yelled to her, “Is that a yes?”

  Breathing deeply, she called back, “Yes! Thanks, Martin!”

  “Good. And you’re welcome. I’ve been on the website. I’ll forward some stuff to you so you can look at it.”

  Betsy knew what that was about. He’d been afraid she would get emotional, so once he asked her the question he left the area. Martin was soft-hearted, but he didn’t like to show it. Betsy collapsed onto the back rest of her chair. A realtor’s license!

  “So. What do you think?” Betsy set down the Burrito Bungalow sack and began to empty it onto the little wrought iron table.

  Midnight smiled, and took a deep whiff of her taco salad. “I think it’s great, Betsy. I was glad—well, you know, Martin did speak to me about it—and I was glad he wanted to offer it to you. It will be a lot of work, though. Even if you take the classes on the internet.”

  “Martin said I can work on it at the office when I’m not busy.” She drizzled salsa onto her enchilada.

  Midnight nodded. They were sitting at one of the two sidewalk tables in front of The Emporium, having lunch together as they had since Betsy started her job. “If you want to do it, you will. Just don’t get overwhelmed and try to take too many classes at once. That’s all.”

  “I won’t. But I’m excited to get started.” It felt good to know Martin thought so much of her abilities, and that he obviously wanted her to stay at his office.

  “If you need extra help with LizBeth Ann, just let me know. In the evenings, I mean.” She looked up and met Betsy’s gaze. “I suppose Mike might like to have her more.”

  “Hm. Maybe. I’ll have to talk to him.”

  “You haven’t yet?”

  “No. We still haven’t spoken since Saturday. He’s being childish.” She hadn’t told Midnight that their argument had begun when Betsy had mentioned The Emporium. That was an odd reaction, and Betsy didn’t know what to make of it, if anything.

  “Have you called him?”

  “Well, no. But he has my number too.”

  “One of you has to act like an adult.”

  “Midnight! How can you say that?”

  “It’s not easy. I care about you, Betsy. Where Mike is concerned, sometimes you don’t use the best judgment. You need to talk to him. You need to tell him about beginning these classes, too.”

  Midnight held her hand up when Betsy started to speak. “You may not think it’s any of his business, but because he’s LizBeth Ann’s father, your life is his business. At least to some extent. Since he’s still your husband, that makes it even more complicated.”

  “That’s just temporary.”

  A black eyebrow went up and Midnight paused. “Perhaps. But that’s the situation. And of course it goes both ways.”

  Betsy had thought about that. She didn’t want to care about what Mike did—where his current project was, where he lived, what the place was like inside. But because of their daughter, she did care. She’d told Marie this morning that she would drive to Mike’s to pick up LizBeth Ann at eight o’clock. She asked Mike’s mother to pass along the information. The older woman realized the two of them weren’t speaking, but to Betsy’s surprise she hadn’t made an i
ssue of it. This morning she simply said she would give Mike the message. Then she explained to Betsy—twice—exactly which house was his, so she would have no trouble finding it.

  That night, Betsy drove the Bug up to Alexander Avenue and parked in front of Mike’s little house. It was still dusk outside this time of year, even at nearly eight o’clock, so she could see the place pretty well. It looked like a dump. There were several large piles of stone near the house, and a rusty cement mixer in the midst of them. Good grief. How could Marie stand to know that one of her sons lived here? Betsy decided he would have to start exercising his visitation with LizBeth Ann somewhere else. Although the neighborhood looked fine, Mike’s place certainly did not.

  She was nearly seething when she got to the front door and knocked.

  She could hear LizBeth Ann shouting something, and Mike’s voice responding—his voice growing louder, as he walked nearer to the door.

  “Hey.” That was his greeting when he opened the door. He turned his back on her and walked away further into the room.

  “Yes, thanks, I will step inside—Oh! My goodness!”

  “What?” He spun around to look at her, a scowl on his face.

  “I just—what a nice place. You’ve done work to it, haven’t you?” Of course he had. The walls of the living room were forest green, the ceiling a paler shade of green with a ceiling fan revolving slowly. The narrow-board hardwood floor had obviously been refinished, and was shiny with polyurethane. A leather club chair and matching couch were coupled with a low coffee table with ornate detail work. She wondered if he’d made it himself. She noticed the sewing rocker she’d spent many hours in with LizBeth Ann—a family heirloom that had been a wedding gift from Mike’s grandparents. The few other pieces of furniture were nondescript but seemed to be of good quality. The room was clean, well lit, and felt cozy. The stone fireplace on one wall, flanked by bookcases, added to that. Through the archway ahead was a pale yellow kitchen. Betsy had always wanted a pale yellow kitchen. Another archway to the right probably led to the bathroom and bedrooms.