"You will do no such thing, missy," Ruby all but snapped. Then she smiled. "But you will show me how you did it. And you'll let me tell you how to make my biscuits for the morning."
"Probably a good idea. The citizens of Sweetgrass Springs might suffer a setback without them." She smiled back. "Though Gordon McLaren admitted that while your cobbler is best, mine is pretty good."
"He's not the only one."
Scarlett arched one brow. "You have spies observing me?" She glanced at Henry, who looked appalled.
"I don't—I wasn't—"
Her grandmother patted his arm. "With Jeanette there, I don't need anyone else."
"So you don't have any other spies?"
"I didn't say that. Shoot, every person in Sweetgrass is watching out for me. Can't be too careful with the slick stranger, come all the way from Paris, France." She laughed.
"They care about you. Ian is watching my every move, and Jeanette would gladly send me to the devil—and that's just for starters. You're a cross between Mother Teresa and Superwoman in their eyes."
"Pshaw. I'm just older than all of them, is all." She winked. "I know where all the bodies are buried."
"They really do love you, though. It seems as though you and the café are all that's keeping Sweetgrass going."
Sorrow swept over Ruby's face. "And I'm not doing too well at it anymore."
"What does that mean?"
Ruby shook her head. "A story for another time. Right now, missy, you have put in one very long day, and I do believe I can hear your feet crying from over here."
"Yours hasn't been a cakewalk."
"Maybe not, but you well and truly saved my bacon. I don't know how to thank you." Without her customary fire and sass, Ruby seemed very small and fragile.
Scarlett desperately did not want to lose her anytime soon. She knew that, even if she knew little else right now. "You don't owe me a thing. We're family," she said simply. Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
She could swear she saw Ruby's eyes shimmer. "We sure are, and that is the best thing that's happened to me in forever." Then she cleared her throat. "You know how to make biscuits with yeast and baking powder both?"
"Both?"
"Yep. My grandmother's recipe. I'll write it down as best I can and leave it for you. I don't measure, I just do a dab of this and a handful of that."
Her breath caught. "I cook that way, too." And the likeness once again made something slow and sweet stir in her heart. "So you'll take it easy tomorrow and trust me with breakfast?"
Ruby looked up, held her gaze for a long moment. "You're family," she echoed.
Then her grandmother looked away. "You have the bank bag, Henry?"
"Um, no. Jeanette—"
Scarlett stepped up to take responsibility. "Jeanette took it with her. She'll deposit it in the morning, just as you normally do." She waited for her grandmother's response, oddly nervous.
Henry caught her gaze, and she could tell he was worried, too.
"All right, then," Ruby said.
Henry audibly exhaled.
"You go on to bed, too." But Ruby's order was gentle.
"I will." He glanced at Scarlett, his gaze tentative, his cheeks stained with color. "Good night, Scarlett. It was nice, working with you."
He was such a sweet boy. "I don't know what I'd have done without you. Snuggle up, Henry."
He nodded and made his way down the hall.
She was left with her grandmother, knowing she should hit the sack, too, but not ready to leave. She glanced around the kitchen, wanting to pore over it inch by inch for signs of her heritage. She had so many questions.
"So how much trouble was Jeanette?" The smile in Ruby's voice matched the one on her face.
Scarlett yanked herself back to the present. "She was all right, really." She hesitated. "Did I do the wrong thing, letting her take the bank bag?"
"No. She won't run off with it, if that's what you're worried about. Long as Ian's in the vicinity and available, she won't budge one inch from Sweetgrass, however much she needs to go."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Jeanette should have left after high school. She worked for me a little while she was in school, then went full-time after graduation to save up money for college. She wanted to see the world, but her folks needed her so she just kept working, and then Ian came home after college. There was no way she was going to go after that. Frankly, I don't know what I'd do without her. She knows how to run the diner as well as I do. If she could cook, I'd have retired and given her the place long ago." Ruby's lips firmed. "But now you're here, and I'm glad I hung onto it."
"But I—" Can't stay, she started to say but halted. Ruby looked so tired. Sad, too, because she had no doubt completed Scarlett's sentence in her own mind. "You should go to bed. So should I," she admitted. "It's been a long day. I have no idea how you've kept this pace all these years."
Her grandmother shrugged. "You do what you have to." Her gaze rose to lock on Scarlett's. "I'm glad I stayed in place now. You might never have found me if I'd moved on."
Scarlett didn't have any answers, not for herself or for Ruby, but she knew one thing: she was profoundly glad Ruby had stayed long enough for Scarlett to learn of her existence.
"Me, too." And even though Ruby didn't seem to be a hugger, Scarlett wrapped her arms around the thin shoulders and embraced this woman who was such a miracle to her, such an unexpected blessing. I love you, she wanted to say, but she was so confused and so very afraid of hurting Ruby. Hurting herself. "I'm really glad."
Slowly Ruby's arms slipped around her waist and clasped her, too.
She felt so frail, and Scarlett realized that it was Ruby's spirit that was so powerful, not the fragile flesh that encased it. "You take it easy tomorrow, okay? I can handle the café just fine. Let me do this for you, would you?" Even if it's all I can promise.
Ruby's hug tightened, and Scarlett never wanted to leave her hold. Her head dropped to Ruby's shoulder, just for a second, while she soaked up the feeling of having someone in her life again whom she could love.
Ruby didn't move either, and one hand rose to stroke her hair.
"I'm so grateful you're here, Nana."
Ruby's arms tightened around her. Then she lifted her head. "Nana? Peter Pan's dog?"
Scarlett tensed. "I hadn't thought about that. I just always liked that name for a grandmother, but I—" Now that she knew Ruby a bit better, Mimsey did not fit at all. "Should I call you something different?"
Her grandmother chuckled. "Nana was a good dog. I could sure do worse. You call me whatever you like." Her eyes shimmered as well.
"Snuggle up…Nana." If she didn't get up those stairs now, she'd fall apart.
"Sweet dreams, Scarlett girl." Ruby stroked her face, then released her.
Every step a battle, Scarlett climbed the stairs but stopped halfway up to see Ruby holding onto the newel post, watching her.
"Please sleep in, Nana. I promise I won't mess anything up."
Her grandmother's nod was solemn. "I know you won't. And yes, I'll sleep in—at least if I can, I will. A lot of years of habit, you know. Now you get on to bed."
Being ordered around warmed her. "Yes, ma'am." Scarlett blew her a kiss, then made her way to bed, her world a richer place already.
CHAPTER TEN
Her hair was still wet from the rain she'd awakened to this morning, but Scarlett couldn't care less. Standing in the café's kitchen, absently she blotted her hair with a kitchen towel as she stared at the piece of paper Ruby had pushed under her bedroom door while she slept. And boy, had she slept. She wasn't sure when she'd been more exhausted.
She dried her hands carefully and set the towel aside so she could pick up the recipe.
This was my grandmother's recipe.
Scarlett's great-great grandmother. It was ridiculous, but her hand was shaking. She traced over the letters. Her great-great-grandmother's recipe. Written in her grandmother's hand.
>
What was the woman's name? When was she born? Had she lived here in Sweetgrass Springs? What did she look like? Had she been the mother of Ruby's mother or father?
Her heart was pounding so hard it was almost audible. The recipe itself was interesting, and Scarlett could see how the biscuits turned out so flaky and delicious, but that wasn't what wowed her. It was knowing that a woman who shared her blood had mixed the same biscuits Scarlett was about to make, had served them to others who were also related to Scarlett. Had lived a life Scarlett could not begin to envision…but oh, how she wished she could.
"What's wrong?"
She jumped at least a foot at the sound of Ian's voice coming from the kitchen door. "Nothing. What on earth are you doing here at this ungodly hour?"
He grinned, and she saw that dimple again. Good grief, but he was gorgeous in a way unlike the men she was used to—not model-handsome but instead rugged and strong in a completely unstudied way.
"A whole lot gets done in the country before the sun comes up—hey, are you crying?"
"What? No—" She swiped at her cheeks and realized he was right—she had been. "I'm perfectly fine. I just—" She shook her head. "Never mind. I have biscuits to make. Were you worried I wouldn't be serving breakfast today, is that it?"
His eyes remained serious, but his tone was light. "Naw, I'm not worried."
She retrieved an apron and swiftly tied it around her waist, glancing back as she did so. "Uh-huh…you are so checking up on me. What, you didn't think I'd get up?"
"I said I wasn't worried." But his face said otherwise. "Hey, is that coffee I smell?"
Briskly she began to assemble the biscuit ingredients, mentally making notes about where she would move things if this were her kitchen. "So you made the trip to mooch coffee?"
"No, I just—" He busied himself pouring coffee into two mugs. "Sometimes I drop by and visit with Ruby while she's setting up. She seems to like the company. How is she?" He lifted one. "What do you take in it?"
"A little cream. Okay, and sugar. More than a little." She watched him. "One more spoon."
He recoiled. "Bet you make your dentist rich."
"No commentary on the cook's caffeine habits." She took the mug and sipped. "Ahh…I may live after all." Another sip. "Don't tell me—you're hardcore and drink it black."
He saluted her with his mug. "Of course. A rancher can't drink sissy coffee. At home I boil it over an open fire and drink from a tin cup."
She chuckled. "Because a real man only drinks coffee you can stand up a spoon in."
A second salute. "You got that right. So…Ruby."
"She was very sore last night and probably feels worse today."
"But she actually slept in and let you do this by yourself?"
"She actually did. Go figure." Another sip, then she set the mug aside and got to work. "She even asked for my cobbler recipe."
"Well, how about that?"
She ran warm water from the tap, then measured it into a bowl and sprinkled yeast on top. "She might have asked only to be nice to me."
"Ruby doesn't do nice. When she says something, she means it. Here—" He caught her glancing around for a large bowl for the dry ingredients and pulled one from below the counter to the left of where she was standing. "Ruby uses this to mix them in."
The enormous green pottery bowl showed its age, and Scarlett couldn't resist running her fingers around the edge.
If her mother hadn't stayed away, would she have learned how to make these when she was young? For a moment she was caught by the mental image of herself on a stool beside Ruby, learning. Waiting for her chance to sink her fingers into the dough.
"You okay?"
She dragged herself back to the present. "Of course." She consulted the paper again. "I was just…" She shrugged, then measured flour before she spoke again. "Did you know this was Ruby's grandmother's recipe?"
"I did. I remember her mama bringing them over to the house once."
Scarlett faltered while measuring out baking powder and had to force herself to count. "Ruby's mother? What was she like?"
"She was taller than Ruby and you. Not as tall as Georgia, though. Her hair was silver, of course. I don't know what color it was before. You might have gotten the black hair from Ruby's father. Jackson's hair is black, too, but it's not curly. His dad's used to be black."
"Jackson?" She cast back in memory. "He's my cousin, right?"
"Right."
"Jackson…Gallagher?"
He nodded.
"Where is he?"
Ian was silent a long time, and when she looked over, his expression was sad. She hastened to backtrack. "I'm sorry. Ruby didn't say he was dead—is he?"
"No. At least not that I know of, but then no one would."
"Why not?" She focused on cutting the shortening into the dry ingredients, reducing it to pea-sized pellets.
"It's a long story."
"I'm not going anywhere."
He seemed uncomfortable.
"Never mind. It's not my business, I guess."
"No, if you're going to be around, you should know."
She started to say she definitely wouldn't be around, but then she glanced at the recipe and thought of how much she didn't know. Maybe she could stay around a little while…
"Jackson's mother died when we were in high school. It was real hard on the whole family. On all of us, really. She was like a mother to me. I barely remember my own."
"I'm sorry. Did she…is your mother gone?"
"Not like you mean. She left us, me and Dad. She liked city life, and she didn't want anything tying her down. She hated the ranch."
"I'm so sorry."
"No big deal." But lingering bitterness in his tone said just the opposite. What child wouldn't be devastated by being left by his mother?
"How old were you?"
"Almost five."
"Oh, Ian."
He shrugged off any pity. "I did fine. It was real rough on Dad, not that I realized it then. Now that I've had to take over, I think of what it must have been like for him. He kept me with him all day until I got old enough for school. That couldn't have been easy. Anyway—Jackson's mom was the perfect mom, always baking cookies and such, and she never said she didn't have time to listen. I about lived over there half the time." He stared off into the distance. "Then she got cancer and died real slowly. It was awful. Jackson took it bad—he and his dad never got along anyway. He's pretty much a genius and the last thing he wanted was to be a rancher, but his dad wasn't going to let him do anything else. After his mom was gone, Jackson got wild, and one night…" His face filled with sorrow. "The boy with me last night, Ben? His dad had a sister who was riding with Jackson, and Jackson was drunk. He wrecked his car, and Beth died. He walked away with barely a scratch. No one in this town could forgive him, least of all his dad. He told Jackson to get out of town and never come back." Ian shook his head, his regrets clear. "He never has."
"Nobody knows where he is?"
"Not as far as I can tell. He was my best friend, and he sure never bothered to get in touch with me."
Scarlett tried to picture what it would feel like to have a best friend you'd known all your life, but she had no frame of reference. "That's tragic."
He shrugged. "That's life." He stirred and drained his mug, then walked over to rinse it in the sink. "Blue's waiting for me in the truck, and I got cows calling my name. Thanks for the coffee."
"You're welcome." She mixed the milk and bubbling yeast into the dry ingredients and began blending. "Are you coming back to see how I did?"
His eyes were serious. "Do you want me to?"
She had a sense of more being asked than simply about breakfast, and innate caution reared its head. "It's up to you. It's clear that you're a busy man." She sprinkled flour on the counter and turned out the dough.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. You strike me as a woman who lands on her feet."
If only you knew just how shaky my footing
feels right now. "Absolutely." She glanced up once and saw him watching her. She brought her gaze back down. He was too close to becoming her touchstone in this unfamiliar place. "You do what you like."
"I generally do. See you." He headed for the door.
"Wait—does Blue get to eat people food?"
He blinked. "He'll eat anything he can find."
She turned to the refrigerator and retrieved some leftover beef she was going to put to use in a stew. She would reimburse Ruby for this, too, if need be. She crossed to Ian. He met her halfway. "Here—take this to him."
He didn't reach for it. "You should give it to him yourself. Make friends."
"I don't think so."
He grinned, and his eyes did that crinkle thing at the corners that was breathtakingly attractive. "Come on. I told you he won't bite. And after this, you'll be his new best friend."
Up this close, Ian was so big, so overwhelmingly masculine. She found it more than a little hard to breathe.
His eyes locked on hers, and his pupils darkened.
Oh my…
He bent to her, just the slightest inch, and she was caught in the spell of him. She was a tactile person, and her fingers itched to touch.
She heard a car door slam and remembered where she was. Who she was. She straightened. Retreated. "I have biscuits to make and customers to serve. Tell Blue hi."
His gaze was too serious. When he finally let the mischief in, she relaxed from the danger she'd just dodged. "Coward." He grinned.
"Think what you like." She tilted her nose in the air, then turned to resume her baking.
"It's a nice thing to do, New York," his rough velvet voice said behind her.
"Scarlett. And you're welcome. I guess I'll see you around." She placed a hand on her jumpy stomach and took a deep breath as she took her place in the kitchen.
But she couldn't resist watching him go, that broad back, the rangy gait of a man comfortable inside his skin. Just as he reached the front door and she thought she could settle down, he wheeled and came back.
"I forgot—how are you at hungry man food in large quantities?"
"What?" She shook her head to clear it. "Why?"
Texas Roots: The Gallaghers of Sweetgrass Springs Page 10
