by Lin Stepp
Margaret paused as if thinking this out.
“And?” Jack prompted.
She frowned at him. “And I don’t want her becoming another bullet on your cowboy belt. It would hurt her and cause her to lose respect around here.”
“And you think I would do that?” Jack snarled his answer.
She reached up and stretched. “I don’t know what you might do, Jack Teague. I just know what I hear.”
“You been asking questions about me?” He met her gaze.
She gave him a stubborn look. “I have a right. She’s my mother, after all.”
Jack bit back an angry reply. He eyed Margaret silently. “Seems to me you’re not in much of a position to preach to me. You’ve done your share of hurting your mother lately. You and your siblings. All stomping around and throwing a fit when Grace wanted to pursue her own life. And follow her own dream. You even tried to make her move into some old folks’ retirement center.”
“I wasn’t the one pushing her to move there.” Margaret put her hands on her hips, eyes flashing. “That was more Frank and the others—not me.”
Jack grinned, glad to be turning the tables on Margaret. “I didn’t exactly hear any tales of how you encouraged your mother to follow her heart and her dreams—championed her in wanting to live her own life. Seems like I heard you were right in there calling her stupid and foolish—even bowing up your back and refusing to move over here with her.”
Margaret crossed her arms in annoyance, her face flushing. “You don’t understand. We felt afraid for her. We didn’t think she could do anything like this.”
“And you were wrong?” Jack knew his words would nettle her.
“Maybe.” She stuck her chin up stubbornly.
“I see. Then maybe you might be wrong about me, too.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed reluctantly as a group of new customers let themselves in the door. “We’ll see.”
Jack took that opportunity to retreat. Taking Margaret’s advice, he avoided going up to the house, assuming Myra was still there. Instead, he waited until the evening to see Grace. He found his eyes seeking her out throughout the gathering that night. Watching her. Admiring her poise and ease. She was a consummate entertainer. Circulating around among all the people—gracious, charming, seeing that everyone was taken care of. Spending just the right amount of time with each person before moving on to the next.
“Pretty woman,” Roger said at one point, catching Jack’s eyes on her.
“Yes, she is,” he acknowledged.
“Be careful, buddy.” Roger chuckled. “Once you slide down that slippery creek bank, it’s hard to get back out.”
Jack didn’t answer.
“You in over your head already?”
“I don’t know, Rog. But she’s messing with my mind and my sleep.”
“Been with anybody else lately?”
“No.” Jack snapped out his reply.
Roger patted him on the back, wisely not making a comment back. “I think I’ll go get Samantha to play a game of badminton with Vincent and Margaret. It looks like they’re trying to find some partners. Can you keep an eye on Ruby?” He gestured to Ruby who had fallen asleep in the hammock on the patio.
Jack smiled at the sight of Ruby curled up in the middle of the big hammock. “Sure. I’ll sit here on the patio and keep a watch over her.”
He went over to one of the ice chests and found a wine cooler to drink. It was the closest thing to an adult beverage Grace would allow with children sharing the evening. Several of the men had argued with her about it, but Grace had put her foot down. Jack smiled remembering it.
“Having nice thoughts?” a quiet voice asked.
Jack turned his head toward the sound to see Grace coming across the patio. She wore some sort of floaty culotte skirt with a matching blouse, both in a rich plum shade. Pretty enough to be dressy, casual enough to play games in. Her outfit was simple, yet striking, setting off her figure perfectly. The rich color complimented the shiny, lighter tone of lipstick and nail polish she wore. Even the slides she wore on her feet were dark plum in color. Jack had always been a man to notice details about women—what they wore, how they acted, how they smelled. And Grace was always beautifully put together.
He patted the seat beside him. “Come keep me company. I’m watching Ruby so Roger and Samantha can play badminton.”
Jack saw Grace glance toward the hammock with a tender expression.
“Precious child,” she said. She picked up a sweater tossed over a nearby chair and draped it across Ruby’s legs before she sat down.
Jack caught the soft floral scent of her as she settled into the old metal lawn chair. She slipped off her slides and propped her bare feet up on the chair across from them.
Jack’s eyes slid down her legs and across her feet. Agony. He yearned to take her feet into his lap. To run his hands up her legs and under the folds of her plum skirt.
“It’s been a nice gathering, hasn’t it?” she asked, oblivious to his thoughts.
He nodded. “You’ve been a good hostess.”
“Thanks, and I appreciate your coming early to help set up the games and tables.” She pointed out into the yard. “Look what a good time the girls are having playing croquet.”
Jack looked out to see Morgan and Meredith laughing and playing with the other children who lived around the River Road.
“The girls were so excited we found that old croquet set in the garage storage room. Plus the badminton racquets and birdies, and the horseshoes.” She looked around the property. “This is a wonderful yard for games—so flat and spacious.”
Jack agreed. “Where are the dogs?”
“On the back screened porch where they can watch everyone.” She laughed. “They were disappointed not to be out here, but with so many people, I couldn’t properly keep an eye on them if I’d let them join us.”
“It’s wonderful how well you’ve got them trained. I can see a similar gift of management in operation when you gather the girls together for their Scout meetings.” He shook his head. “I used to pick them up from their Brownie meetings and always found a noisy chaos. Mrs. Waters is nice, but she had no gift for leadership. You, on the other hand, do.”
“Why thank you, Jack. That’s a very nice compliment.”
“And well deserved. Kyleen told me you’d agreed to take on the fifth-grade Junior Scouts along with your fourth-grade girls because they didn’t have a leader either.”
“Yes, and Kyleen is going to help me with the combined troop. She is fifteen and has always been a Scout. She would be a Cadette right now if there was an active troop, so I told her she could work on her Cadette credentials as my assistant leader. The girls love having an older teenager helping us out.”
“How many girls do you have now?”
“Sixteen. I had eight fourth-grade girls, and now I’ve added eight fifth-grade girls.” She sighed. “There’s been more interest since the word has gotten out, but I’m not sure I can manage more. Even with Kyleen.”
“Samantha told me you even have all the girls showing up for Scout meetings in their uniforms. How’d you manage that? Daisy said hardly any of their group would wear their uniforms to their Scout meetings last year.”
Grace frowned and lifted her chin. “I wear a uniform to every meeting. And I told the girls if they wanted to be in my troop they would have to wear a uniform every week as well. Any girl who does not come in uniform cannot carry leadership roles or have snacks.”
Jack chuckled. “I’d say that last one did it.”
“It does tend to be influential.” She giggled. “I make nice snacks. Or we all make them together when the girls arrive.”
Jack propped his feet up beside hers on the chair, wanting to make physical contact with her. Leaning his bare calf against hers, he felt a sensual thrill.
She grew quiet for a moment, and Jack knew she felt the heat building between them. He trailed a finger along her arm on the chair
.
His voice turned almost husky as he continued their conversation, trying to remain casual. “Freda Clark and Sally Carson told me you collected donations from the businesses around the area to buy uniforms, Scout pins, and books for many of the girls in the troop who couldn’t afford them.”
“Some of the families around here are not very well-to-do.” She pulled her arm away from his tracing finger. “There are some single mothers and some girls who don’t have much. I wanted all the girls to have uniforms without pressure on the families.”
His voice was soft. “You’re a good person, Grace Conley. I’ll bet you were a good mother, too.”
“She was an excellent mother,” said a voice behind them. Margaret came up, gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, and flounced into one of the chairs across from them.
“Are you behaving yourself, Jack?” She eyed his leg leaning up against her mother’s with a raised eyebrow.
“Absolutely.” He made no effort to move his leg. “How was your badminton game?”
“Vincent and I beat Roger and Samantha by ten points. Samantha took it gracefully, but Roger is still grousing over it.” She got up to go rummage in one of the coolers to find a cola.
Jack laughed. “Sounds like Roger. He always was a sore loser.”
Margaret sat down again and propped her pretty bare legs up on the side of her mother’s chair. Jack saw Grace pat Margaret’s leg affectionately.
“Seems like I saw Vincent Westbrooke trailing around after you most of the evening.” Jack couldn’t resist teasing Margaret. He always got such sparks when he did. “It seems like you’ve captured our young preacher’s attention.”
Margaret’s eyes flared. “That’s one of the reasons I came over here to hide out with the two of you. I was finally able to make my escape while Vincent got tied up talking to Berke and Sally Carson.”
“You’re not attracted to Vincent?” Jack grinned at her. “A lot of young girls in the valley come to church on Sunday just to get a look at him. But it’s seldom that one of them ever attracts an eye from him. Most would say you’re lucky.”
“Well, I don’t feel lucky!” Margaret snapped her answer.
“Margaret, mind your manners,” her mother chided. “Vincent is a fine young man. There’s no reason to speak derogatorily about him.”
Margaret heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Mother, Vincent Westbrooke is a preacher. And a preacher in a poky little town. Nothing personal, Jack—but this is just not my kind of place. And I am absolutely not cut out to be linked up with a preacher.”
Jack grinned. “You’ve got morality issues?”
“No, that’s you, Jack!” Margaret sent him an impish smile. “I just have ambitions, and I see no sense in letting Vincent Westbrooke think I have any interest in him whatsoever.”
Jack caught her gaze. “You’re lying to yourself, Margaret, if you think you have no interest in him. I’ve watched you around him. You’re attracted to him all right.”
She glared at Jack. “Well, so what if I am? That doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it. I was attracted to the cute UPS man who came to the shop door this morning, too, but I’m not going to encourage him either.”
“Why, you’re a snob, Margaret Conley!” Jack loved goading her.
“No, I just know you need to be careful who you get involved with. Some people may be pretty and attractive, but they’re the wrong people for you.”
A memory flashed in Jack’s mind. His voice quieted. “I know what you mean about that.”
Grace reached over to put a hand on his while Margaret was preoccupied in drinking her cola. She smiled at him softly.
Dang woman. She’d gotten to where she could read his mind. She knew he was remembering Celine. How did she do that?
Margaret’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Your little twins are flirting with those boys over there, Jack Teague.”
“What?” He sat up and looked around to where the girls were still playing croquet. “What are you talking about? They’re only playing croquet. They’re not even ten years old.”
Margaret blew a stray hair back off her face. “Ten or not, they’re flirting with that cute little Dean Clark and the friend he brought with him. What was the other boy’s name, Mother?”
“Neal Hancock. He lives farther down the River Road. Dean asked if he could bring a friend so he wouldn’t be the only boy.”
“Well, your girls are flirting with Dean Clark and Neal Hancock.” She gave Jack a smug, Cheshire-cat grin. “Must take after their father.”
Jack found his heart pounding. “Do you really think so? Maybe I should do something. Those boys are thirteen. Morgan and Meredith are not even ten yet. They don’t know anything about boys.”
Grace’s soothing voice spoke out. “Settle down, Jack. This is only innocent childhood flirting. It’s normal.” Grace’s calm hand came to rest on his again.
She directed a critical glance at Margaret. “And quit teasing Jack about his girls. It’s bad enough the two of you spar with each other all the time, but don’t bring Morgan and Meredith into it.”
“Oh, all right.” Margaret flounced back in her chair.
Jack continued to watch the girls, still uncomfortable with Margaret’s observation. “Do girls really start thinking about boys this early?”
Margaret rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Jack. Didn’t you start thinking about girls that early? Get real. Girls and boys start trying to get the attention of the opposite sex in preschool now.”
Still seeming to sense his discomfort, Grace patted his hand once more. “I’ll talk to them about some things if you’d like, Jack. It’s probably time they had some personal talks. Especially after what happened with Ruby.” Jack saw Grace glance toward the small figure huddled sleeping in the hammock.
Margaret looked toward Ruby, too. “You know, a couple of times I thought I felt someone watching me around here.”
Jack heard Grace gasp in reaction. “Where were you when this happened?”
“Taking a walk down the street once. Out in the backyard another time. Wading my feet down at the river the last time. It really creeped me out.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Do you think it was just your imagination, since you’ve heard so many stories about Crazy Man?” Grace studied her daughter.
“No.” Margaret looked thoughtful. “Twice I thought I actually saw someone. You know, like a shadow or a movement behind a tree or a shrub.”
Jack caught Grace’s eye questioningly.
She looked at Jack with a worried frown. “Margaret doesn’t make things up like this, Jack, even though she tends to be dramatic at times.”
Jack sat up to lean toward Margaret. This worried him. “You should have told us about this before, Margaret. We’re trying very hard to catch this man. We really don’t know if he might be dangerous or not. If you see or sense anything again, you come straight to me and tell me. You hear?”
“I’ll tell my mother if I see anyone again.” She gave him a deliberate look. “You’re not my father, Jack Teague. So don’t give me orders.”
She jumped up and flounced off toward the yard. “I think I’m going to go play croquet with the kids.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Jack asked as soon as Margaret was out of earshot.
“No.” Grace patted his hand again. “What you said sounded like something Charlie would have said to her. It just made her remember.”
Jack scowled. “Well, since she’s made it clear she won’t come to me, will you let me know if she hears or sees anything again?”
“I will. And let’s don’t talk about it anymore. Here come Samantha and Roger. They’re having such a happy evening tonight. Let’s not spoil it by having any more conversations about that demented man.”
CHAPTER 13
A week slipped by, and Grace had guests at the inn. They sat gathered in the dining room helping themselves to the Sunday buffet breakfast Grace always served. Grace and Margaret sat in
the kitchen with plates of their own.
“Good morning,” Vincent said, letting himself in the back kitchen door. “I see there are several cars outside. You must be busy today.”
Margaret mumbled something about how their being busy didn’t seem to stop some people from making themselves at home. Grace hid a smile as she went to pour Vincent a cup of coffee.
Vincent was dressed to preach in a tailored, navy, pin-striped suit, and he looked like a million dollars. He even smelled good—wearing some sort of musky scent. Grace watched Margaret assess him covertly. A woman would have to be dead not to notice Vincent Westbrooke, yet Margaret did her best to act cool and disinterested whenever he came around.
Grace put Vincent’s cup of coffee on the kitchen table. “Go in the dining room and fix yourself a plate.” She smiled at him. It felt like having Mike or Kenneth back at home for Vincent to drop in every morning. “And introduce yourself while you’re there. The Quinn family is leaving for Ohio this morning, but the McAllisters and the Bridges are staying over another night. They might like to visit the church service this morning. You could ask them.”
“I will.” He ran his fingers lightly across Margaret’s shoulder as he passed her chair. “I hear you are visiting the church this morning, too. You’ll enjoy hearing Mrs. Carson play the piano. She has a gift.”
“So I’ve heard.” Margaret’s tone was sarcastic.
Grace shook her head at Margaret as Vincent went into the dining room. “There’s no need to be rude.”
Margaret rolled her eyes and countered in a derisive tone. “Well, it’s doubtful I will be impressed with the performance of dear, old Mrs. Carson, playing piano in the Creekside Independent Presbyterian Church in Townsend, Tennessee.”
