His Small-Town Girl

by Arlene James

  Little garages, really, but without doors, the spaces were open only on one end. Her grandfather took inordinate pride in providing them for their guests, but none of them, Charlotte felt sure, had ever offered protection to anything remotely comparable to the car of—she peeked at his registration again—Tyler Aldrich. Well, no wonder. She casually shifted her gaze to the side window.

  So that’s what a hundred-thousand bucks on wheels looked like. Smiling, she shoved a bunch of bills and coins at him, as if he needed nine dollars and thirty-four cents in change.

  No doubt the rooms he usually rented cost ten times as much as what she had to offer. Then again, he happened to need what she had to offer.

  Maybe he could afford a hundred-thousand-dollar car, but, as her grandfather Hap would say, he put his pants on just like everyone else; therefore, she would treat him like everyone else. She put out her hand.

  “I’m Charlotte Jefford. Welcome to Eden, Mr. Aldrich.”

  “Thanks.” Sliding his long, square palm against hers, he asked smoothly, “Is that Mrs. Jefford?”

  Charlotte paused. Curiosity, she wondered, or flirtation? The next moment she realized that it couldn’t possibly be the latter, and even if it was, it simply didn’t matter. “Miss.”

  He smiled and let go of her hand. “Miss Jefford, then, could you advise me where I might find a meal? One that someone else prepares, that is, since the kitchenette is out of the question.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Easily. After dusk there’s just the Watermelon Patch, about a half mile north of town. Can’t miss it. Best fried catfish in the county.”

  He made a face. “Any chance they serve anything that’s not fried?”

  She considered a moment. “Beans and cole slaw.” This did not seem to excite him. “They do baked potatoes on Saturday nights.”

  “That’s a big help,” he pointed out wryly, “since this is Friday.”

  “The truck stop in Waurika doesn’t close until ten,” she offered guiltily, thinking of the meat loaf she’d just pulled from the oven. “You can get a salad there.” Provided he considered iceberg lettuce and a sprinkling of shredded carrots a salad.

  “If I could get to Waurika, I wouldn’t need a room,” he pointed out with a sigh.

  “Oh. Right.” She bit her lip, glanced again out the window at that sleek red fortune-on-wheels and knew that her hesitation did not become her. If he’d pulled up in a pickup truck or semi, she’d have made the invitation without a second thought, had done so, in fact, on several similar occasions. So what stopped her now?

  Simple appearance, perhaps? Next to his excellently groomed self, she couldn’t help feeling a bit shabby in her well-worn jeans and old work shirt, not to mention the stained apron in which she’d greeted him, but that should not matter. Neither should what this smoothly handsome, well-dressed man would think about the simple apartment behind the unmarked door. The Bible taught that no difference should be made between the wealthy and the poor.

  Putting on her smile, Charlotte mentally squared her shoulders and said, “You can eat here. It’s just meat loaf tonight, with grilled potatoes, broccoli and greens, but at least none of it’s fried.”

  His relief palpable, he chuckled and spread his arms. “Lead me to it. I’m starving.”

  Thankful that her brothers hadn’t shown up for the evening meal as they did several times a week, she waved him around the end of the counter and indicated the door through which she’d entered. The unexpected company would surprise her grandfather, but she knew that he would be nothing less than gracious. They’d shared their table with hotel guests before, after all, and no doubt would do so again, though they really didn’t get all that many strangers stopping in.

  They had only twelve rooms, and most of their guests were locals who rented by the month or employees of one of the oil firms that paid handsomely to have rooms constantly available. Several of the truckers who routinely drove along this route stopped in on a weekly basis, usually on Tuesdays or Thursdays, but they didn’t get many travelers in this area who weren’t there to visit family. Strangers simply had no reason to come, which made her wonder again how Tyler Aldrich happened to be there.

  Perhaps he was headed to Duncan and simply hadn’t realized how far it could be between gas stations, particularly at night. If Oklahoma City were his destination, surely he’d have used the interstate to the east, while a direct trip to Lawton would have taken him through Wichita Falls. All four cities, she knew for a fact, had Aldrich Grocery stores.

  Or maybe he wasn’t connected to Aldrich Grocery at all.

  What mattered was that he needed a little hospitality, and hospitality, as Granddad would say, was the Jefford family business. More than that, the Lord commanded it in one of Charlotte’s favorite passages from the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew.

  Feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty and inviting in the stranger were tenets upon which her grandparents had built their lives as well as their business. She sincerely tried to follow the example set by those two godly people. She’d just never dreamed that would mean inviting a rich man to her humble table.

  Chapter Two

  Tyler slipped around the end of the counter, quickly falling in behind his unexpected hostess, unexpected in more ways than one. Charlotte Jefford surprised him, not only with her pure, wholesome beauty and wit but with her warmth. He had not intended to spend the night in this place, but since he must he might as well enjoy himself.

  Expecting to enter a small coffee shop or café through that private door, he felt momentarily disoriented to find himself standing in what appeared to be a dining room. For one long, awkward moment, he could do nothing more than try to take in the place.

  Despite the lack of windows, the light seemed softer, warmer somehow, so that the room came across as homey and intimate if somewhat shabby. An old-fashioned maple dining set with five chairs occupied the greater portion of the room. A sixth chair stood between an overflowing bookcase and the door through which they had just entered.

  Three more doors opened off the far wall, all closed at the moment, but Tyler’s attention focused on the old man who sat at one end of the oval dining table. As he bent his head over a Bible on the flowered, quilted place mat, his thinning white hair showed a freckled scalp, leaving the impression that he had once been a redhead. He looked up when Charlotte spoke, his faded green eyes owlish beneath a thick pair of glasses, which he immediately removed.

  “This is my grandfather.”

  At the sight of Tyler, surprise flitted across the old man’s lean, craggy face, replaced at once by a welcoming smile. Rising in a slow, laborious motion, he put out his hand. Tall and lean but stooped and somewhat frail, he wore a plaid shirt beneath denim bib overalls.

  “Hap Jefford,” he said in a gravelly voice. “How d’you do.”

  Tyler leaned forward to shake hands, careful not to grip those gnarled fingers too tightly.

  “Tyler Aldrich. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Looking helplessly to Charlotte, who moved past the table toward the kitchen beyond, Tyler tamped down his unease and forced a smile. “I’m, uh, afraid I misunderstood the situation. I thought you had some sort of little restaurant back here.”

  “Goodness, no,” Hap Jefford said with mild amusement, lowering himself back down onto his seat. He waved toward the chair on his left, indicating that Tyler should also sit. “Eating places are real workhouses. Time was my Lydia thought putting in a restaurant the thing to do, back when we were young enough to hold up and it seemed our boy might join the business here.” Hap shook his head, adding, “Not to be. They’re both gone to the Lord now. Him first, God rest him.”

  Tyler hardly knew what to say to that, so he pulled out the chair and sat, nodding sagely. After a moment, he went back to the problem at hand.

  “I really don’t want to intrude. When your granddaughter said I could eat here, I naturally thought—”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Hap interrupted. “We
got plenty. She always cooks so her brothers can eat if they’re of a mind. Evenings when one or the other don’t drop by, we have to eat the leftovers for lunch the next day.”

  Tyler relaxed a bit. “Sounds as if you don’t much care for leftovers.”

  Hap grinned, displaying a finely crafted set of dentures. “Now, I never said that. Charlotte’s a right fine cook. I just don’t mind a little unexpected change from time to time.”

  Tyler laughed. “I can understand that.”

  “How ’bout yourself?” Hap asked conversationally.

  Not at all sure how to answer that, Tyler shifted uncomfortably. “Are you asking how I feel about leftovers or change?”

  “Start with the leftovers.”

  Tyler had to think about that. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually had leftovers as such.”

  Hap seemed shocked, but then he shook his head, grinning. “Where’re you from, boy?”

  “Dallas.”

  “Now, I’d have thought they had leftovers in Dallas,” Hap quipped.

  Charlotte entered just then with plates, flatware and paper napkins. Hap closed the Bible and set it aside.

  “Won’t be long now,” she announced, placing a delicate flowered plate on the flowered mat in front of Hap. She placed another in front of Tyler.

  “You really don’t have to feed me,” Tyler said uncomfortably as she set the third plate on the mat to Hap’s right.

  “Don’t be silly.” She reached across the table to deal out case knives. “It’s ready. You’re hungry. Might as well eat.”

  Tyler sensed that declining or offering to pay would insult both of the Jeffords, so he watched silently as she passed out forks and napkins, leaving a stack of the latter on the table.

  “Iced tea or water?” she asked. “Tea’s sweet, by the way.”

  “Water,” Hap answered. Glancing at Tyler, he added, “Don’t need no caffeine this time of evening.”

  “Water,” Tyler agreed, hoping it was bottled.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t forget the ketchup,” Hap called as she hurried away.

  “As if,” came the airy reply.

  “Her grandma thought ketchup was an insult to her cooking,” Hap confided to Tyler.

  “It is when you put it on everything on your plate,” Charlotte chided gently, returning from the kitchen with glassware and a pitcher of iced water.

  “Oh, I just put it on my taters and meat loaf,” Hap said with a good-natured wink at Tyler.

  “And your eggs and your steak…” Charlotte retorted, placing the items on the table and moving away again “…red beans, fish, pork chops…” She stopped in the open doorway and turned to address Tyler. “He’ll put it on white bread and eat that if there’s nothing else on hand.”

  “That reminds me,” Hap said with a wink at Tyler. “Don’t forget the bread.”

  Charlotte gave him a speaking look and disappeared, returning moments later with a half-empty bottle of ketchup and a loaf of sliced bread in a plastic sleeve. She placed both on the table and went away without a word, but the twinkle in her eye bespoke indulgence and amusement.

  “Thank you kindly, sugar,” Hap called at her receding back. Smiling broadly, he proceeded to open the plastic and take out a slice of bread, squeeze ketchup onto the slice and fold it over before biting off half of it.

  Tyler would have winced if his attention hadn’t been snagged by something else. The bread wrapper bore the Rich Foods label, the private label of the Aldrich Grocery chain. Aldrich & Associates Grocery had several stores in Oklahoma, of course, and distributed some foodstuffs to independents, but seeing that label there distressed him. It took only a moment to realize why.

  He didn’t want the Jeffords to connect him with the Aldrich family who owned the grocery chain. He didn’t see why they should, really. They might not even know that the Rich Foods brand belonged to the Aldrich Grocery chain, but it seemed very important suddenly that they not make the connection.

  All his life, he’d had to worry whether he was liked for himself or his family position. Just once he wanted to know that someone could be nice to him without first calculating what it might be worth. He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had invited him, on the spur of the moment, to share a simple meal for which he was not even expected to pay.

  Stunned by the abrupt longing, Tyler spread his hands on his thighs and smiled with false serenity as Hap licked ketchup off his fingers, his expression one of sublime enjoyment. When was the last time, Tyler wondered, that he had enjoyed something that much, especially something so basic?

  Charlotte came in again, wearing heavy mitts this time and carrying a casserole dish. When she lifted the lid on that casserole, a meaty aroma filled the room, making Tyler’s mouth water and his stomach rumble demandingly. Given a choice in the matter, he never ate meat loaf. Ground beef, in his estimation, rarely constituted healthy eating. But what choice did he have?

  She brought the rest of the meal in two trips: crisp round slices of browned potato with the red skins still on, steaming broccoli and a dish of dark greens dotted with onion and bits of bacon. Simple fare, indeed, but Tyler could not remember ever being quite so hungry. Intent on the food, he startled when Hap spoke.

  “Heavenly Father…”

  Tyler looked up to see Charlotte and Hap with hands linked and heads bowed in prayer. Stunned, he could only sit and stare in uneasy silence.

  “We thank You for Your generosity and for our guest. Bless the hands that prepared this meal and the food to the nourishment of our bodies, that we might be strengthened to perform Your will. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” Charlotte echoed, lifting her head.

  Tyler gulped when her gaze collided with his. Belatedly, he realized that she had reached out to offer him a small spatula. When it finally dawned on him that she expected him to serve himself, he shook his head.

  “Oh, uh, ladies first.”

  Smiling, she began to cut the meatloaf into wedges. Not one to stand on ceremony, Hap dug into the potatoes and plunked the platter down in front of Tyler, reaching for the ketchup. After a moment hunger trumped discomfort, and Tyler began to gingerly fill his plate.

  Everything looked, smelled and, to his surprise, tasted delicious. The greens took a little getting used to, but the broccoli and seasoned potatoes were wonderful, and that was saying something, given that he employed an expensive chef and routinely dined in the finest restaurants to be found. The meat loaf, however, came as the biggest surprise.

  Melt-in-the-mouth tender with a beguiling blend of flavors, it whet his appetite to a greedy fever pitch. He ate with unaccustomed gusto, and only with gritted teeth did he find enough discipline to forgo a third helping. Hap apparently possessed no such compunction, but as he reached for that third wedge, Charlotte spoke up.

  “Pity no one’s found a way to take the cholesterol out of beef. You can cook as lean as possible, but there’s still that.”

  Hap subsided with a sigh. Looking to Tyler he commented wryly, “I keep telling her that no one lives forever in this world, but it seems she’s in no hurry to see me off to the next.” Charlotte made no comment to that, just smiled sweetly. “My first mistake,” Hap went on, “was letting her take me to the doctor.”

  “Mmm. Guess you could’ve hitchhiked,” she commented calmly.

  Tyler found himself chuckling as Hap latched onto that gentle riposte with clownish fervor, drawing himself up straight in his chair. “You don’t think some sweet young thing would come along and take me up, then?”

  Charlotte looked at Tyler and blandly said, “If she happened to be driving an ambulance.”

  Laughter spilled out of the two men, unrestrained and joyous. Tyler laughed, in fact, until tears clouded his eyes. Whatever clever rejoinder Hap might have made derailed when the door to the lobby opened and two more elderly men strolled in.

  “Y’all are having fun without us,” one of them accused goo
d-naturedly.

  Hap introduced them as Grover Waller and Justus Inman. A third man identified as Teddy Booker called from the outer room, “I’m stoking this here stove. These dominoes are cold as ice!”

  Hap got to his feet, eagerness lending speed if not agility to his movements. “You play dominoes, Tyler?”

  “No, sir, I’m afraid not.”

  “You all go on,” Charlotte said, “and don’t stay up too late. I’ll heat up some cider after a while.”

  “We’ll be having some popcorn, too,” Hap decided.

  “I was hoping for carrot cake,” Grover Waller said at just a notch above a whine.

  “Now, Pastor,” Charlotte told him, “you know you have to watch your sugar.”

  A belly as round as a beach ball, thin, steel-gray hair sticking out above his ears in tufts and brown eyes twinkling behind wire-rimmed glasses gave the preacher a jovial appearance that belied the mournful tone of his voice as he complained, “You’ve been talking to my wife.”

  “And she says you’ve got to lose twenty pounds or go back on meds,” Charlotte confirmed.

  He thinned his somewhat fleshy lips and hitched up the waist of his nondescript gray slacks before turning away with a sigh.

  “Oh, the burden of a caring wife,” Hap intoned, following the two men from the room.

  “Seems to me you used to call it meddling,” someone said.

  “We all do until they’re gone,” another gravelly voice put in before the door closed behind them.

  Charlotte shook her head, smiling. “They’re all widowers except for the pastor,” she explained. Tyler didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply nodded. “They live to play dominoes, those four, and really, what else have they got to do? Well, three of them, anyway. Pastor Waller’s nearly twenty years younger than the others, and he’s got the church.”