“Mother, please, either you’ve met someone or you haven’t.”
Her daughter was far too direct, Nessa mused. “What makes you ask?” Sylvia was a dear girl, but she did tend to be dictatorial.
“Well, for one thing, your phone’s busy for at least an hour every evening. For another, you’ve been acting strange all weekend.”
“Is the latter an observation or a criticism?” Nessa asked, rather enjoying this exchange. Unnerving her daughter wasn’t an everyday occurrence. After weeks of listening to Sylvia campaign for the idea of remarriage, Nessa had come to a rather startling conclusion. Her daughter did want her to see men, but only men she’d selected herself.
“Just answer the question, Mother.”
“Have I met someone?”
“Yes, Mother.” Sylvia’s sarcastic tone reminded Nessa of some rather difficult years when all three of her children had been teenagers at the same time. Back then, Sylvia had developed an obnoxiously superior attitude. By the time she was twenty, she’d gotten over that—well, mostly.
“Sylvia, sweetheart, I’ve met any number of people since moving back to Promise.”
“A man, Mother, I mean a man.”
“Several.” Nessa dug into her salad with gusto. It was either that or laugh out loud.
“Is there any particular man you’ve met? One you’re—” Sylvia’s mouth twisted as she said the word “—attracted to?”
Gordon. Oh, my, yes. Their telephone conversations continued on a nightly basis, sometimes lasting as long as two hours. If it wasn’t happening to her, Nessa wouldn’t have believed any couple could have this much to say on such brief acquaintance. They talked about their lives, their children, their marriages. There didn’t seem to be anything they couldn’t talk about. Nessa lived for his calls; her entire day was focused on hearing his voice. She felt young again, young and vibrant. In love.
The thought brought her up short. My goodness, it was true. She’d fallen in love with Gordon.
“Mother,” Sylvia insisted, louder this time. “My goodness, what’s come over you?”
“Nothing, dear,” Nessa said, although she was flustered. Her face felt warm and her hands cold. Her appetite unexpectedly deserted her. Carrying her plate, she got up from the table and walked into the kitchen.
Sylvia finally stopped the incessant questioning.
“I was thinking of doing a little shopping this afternoon,” she said.
“That’s nice, dear.” Nessa claimed her favorite chair and reached for her knitting. “Be sure to go see your aunt Dovie.”
“I will.” Sylvia’s expression was grave, and before long she left the house.
As soon as she did, Nessa sighed in relief. My goodness, Sylvia was a troublesome child.
Dovie was humming to herself as she lifted the pie plate with one hand and ran a knife around the edge, cutting off any crust draped over the sides. Apple-and-date pie made with her buttermilk crust was one of Frank’s favorites, and she was planning to surprise him. Her husband was playing cribbage down at the seniors’ center and she didn’t expect him back for a couple of hours. Plenty of time to make that pie.
As a new retiree, Frank had claimed no one would find him at the seniors’ center, but he’d quickly enough had a change of heart. Now he routinely dropped in there once or twice a week. Recently he’d told her he’d volunteered to give a safety workshop geared toward senior citizens.
This was exactly what Dovie had hoped would happen. Frank had floundered a bit when he’d first retired and spent far too much time at the sheriff’s office. Dovie was grateful for Adam Jordan’s patience. Every day Frank had returned from his talks with Adam to tell her about all the mistakes the young sheriff had made and how he would’ve handled things differently.
But after a few months, Dovie had begun to notice a gradual change in Frank. He hadn’t participated in Lyle Whitehead’s arrest. Frank had been confident that Sheriff Jordan and Deputy Green could adequately handle the situation, and they’d proved him right. She felt Frank had truly retired now. The official date had been early January, but his retirement hadn’t really taken effect until the night of the Cattlemen’s Dance.
The doorbell chimed and Dovie set aside the pie to answer it. “Sylvia!” She let out a cry of delight, and the two hugged for a long moment. Never having had children herself, Dovie cherished Nessa’s daughter. She disagreed with the way Sylvia treated Nessa these days, but that was between mother and daughter, not aunt and niece.
“How are you, Aunt Dovie?” Sylvia asked as she followed her back into the kitchen.
“Never better.” Dovie slid the pie inside the preheated oven and put on water for tea. “Your mother said you were here for a visit.”
“I’m heading home tomorrow morning.”
“I’m so glad you took the time to come by. I don’t see you often enough.” Dovie brought down her favorite teapot from the pine hutch and two matching cups and saucers. “How are you and Steve and the kids?”
“Great,” her niece responded without elaborating.
As soon as the tea was ready, Dovie added a plate of her peanut-butter cookies and carried the tray into the formal living room.
“Aunt Dovie, have you noticed anything strange about my mother lately?”
Dovie had to stop and think. She was prepared to defend Nessa had Sylvia said her mother seemed anxious or depressed. But strange? “What do you mean by strange?”
Sylvia took her time answering. “She’s…happy.”
Dovie paused in the task of pouring tea. “Being happy shouldn’t be considered strange. Nor is it a matter for concern.”
“Have you looked at her lately? Really looked?” Sylvia demanded.
Everything was a crisis with this child. Dovie had always thought she was destined for the stage, since Sylvia made a drama of the most mundane incident, the most trivial problem.
“Mother’s always wearing a silly grin. That’s not like her.”
Dovie carefully put the teapot back on the tray. “Now that you mention it, Nessa does seem…brighter, more energetic.”
Sylvia nodded.
“It involves a man,” she said. “I just know it.”
Dovie merely raised her eyebrows.
“Has she mentioned anyone?” Sylvia pressed.
Dovie thought about the past few times she’d seen Nessa. “No, I can’t say she has.”
“That’s what I figured,” Sylvia muttered darkly. “You haven’t seen her date anyone, have you? Or heard any rumors?”
Once again, Dovie was left to do a mental review of when and where she’d seen her sister-in-law, and with whom. Nessa had been out with various friends, including her, and she’d attended several community events—although not the dance, now that Dovie thought of it. But to the best of Dovie’s knowledge, she hadn’t been seen in the company of any man. “I don’t know if your mother’s dating or not,” Dovie confessed. “I don’t think she is, but…”
Sylvia looked as if she was in pain. “You’re sure of that?”
“My dear child, I don’t actually keep tabs on Nessa.”
“But she talks to you more than anyone.”
“True…”
Sylvia reached absently for a second cookie. The girl had been watching her weight for as long as Dovie could remember. It was almost unheard of for her to eat two cookies at one time.
“What exactly are you upset about?” Dovie asked.
“Aunt Dovie, don’t you know what this means?” Her hand returned to the plate for an unprecedented third cookie. Crumbs attached themselves to the corners of her lips.
“I’m afraid I don’t.” While she was deeply fond of Sylvia, she felt the girl was definitely overreacting. Fine, so Nessa was happier and livelier than she’d been in a while. There was a simple reason for that. She’d adjusted. It’d taken her some time to find her footing after Leon died, but now that she had, Nessa was ready to get on with her life.
Dovie recalled that firs
t bleak year after her own husband’s death and how desperately she’d searched for something to give her life purpose. That was when she’d opened the antique store.
“Don’t you see?” Sylvia cried. “My mother’s seeing a man.”
“But, Sylvia, I thought that was what you wanted.”
Her niece ignored the comment. “She didn’t attend the dance, did she?”
“No,” Dovie said.
“Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Tell me what?” Dovie hated to appear obtuse, but she didn’t know what Sylvia was talking about.
“My mother,” Sylvia whispered, closing her eyes, “is having an affair.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, child,” Dovie chastised immediately. She was sure Nessa was doing no such thing.
“Mark my words, Aunt Dovie,” Sylvia said. “She’s seeing someone she doesn’t want us to know about. He must be married. What other reason could she have for not telling us?”
CHAPTER 14
Sheriff Adam Jordan’s days off usually fell in the middle of the week. He’d developed a habit of checking the movie schedules every Wednesday. If something new was playing that he particularly wanted to see, he often went to the early-evening show.
He wasn’t as interested in this week’s movie, a comedy starring Jim Carrey, as he was in a couple of hours’ distraction. He was still thinking about the previous Saturday and how shocked he’d been when Jeannie French invited him to dance. Okay, she’d had a reason. She’d wanted to thank him for replacing the blouse, but she needn’t have asked him to dance to do that.
Adam wasn’t all that fond of dancing, but he made a point of partnering as many women as he could for a spin around the floor. It was either that or spend the entire evening ogling Jeannie. He’d never seen her look more beautiful. Apparently it was his lot in life to get stuck on a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.
He’d seen her dance once with Billy Joe Durkin and nearly suffered a heart attack. Billy Joe was a ladies’ man, and if ever a woman was capable of capturing a cowboy’s attention, it was Jeannie. She’d danced with a few other men, too, and it was damned difficult to stand back and watch. Since that night all he’d done was think of Jeannie. He needed a distraction, so an afternoon at the movies suited him just fine.
Ticket in hand, Adam purchased a bag of buttered popcorn and a tall drink, then headed into the air-conditioned theater. The nice thing about catching the first show of the night was how empty the theater was. Many times there was only a handful of people.
Carrying his snacks, Adam discovered the theater completely unoccupied. A few more patrons would arrive in short order, they always did, but by then he’d have his choice of seats. That was the good news. The bad news was he’d prefer to share a movie with someone. But most of his friends didn’t have the same days off. And if they went to a weekday showing, it was usually the later one, well after dinner.
Adam had settled in his seat when the doors opened and a second person entered. A woman, he noted absently, taking a sip of his drink. Not until she walked past him did Adam recognize Jeannie.
“Jeannie,” he said aloud, then wished he hadn’t. So much for playing it cool. So much for acting nonchalant. Blurting out her name in a surge of sheer joy wasn’t going to impress a woman who’d made her views on dating him extremely clear. Painfully clear.
“Hello, Adam,” she said, looking equally delighted to see him. That was a switch.
Rather than say anything else that would embarrass them both, he stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, then wiped his greasy palm down his thigh. When no one immediately joined her, he glanced over his shoulder, finding it difficult to believe she was alone.
She hesitated, then sat two rows ahead. With the entire theater empty, she’d chosen to sit almost directly in front of him. Was this a signal? Was this her way of letting him know she regretted her previous attitude? Adam wasn’t going to risk asking.
“Want a Milk Dud?” she twisted around to ask.
His mouth was full of popcorn, so he shook his head.
“I was hoping you’d save me from eating them all myself. I can do without the extra fat.”
If she was hinting that he should tell her she had a perfect body, he wouldn’t comply, although heaven knew it was the truth. Everything about her was perfect. Time and again he’d tried not to think of her; until last Saturday, he’d almost succeeded. Then she’d asked him to dance, and the feel of her still lingered in his arms.
Offering him a piece of candy could be an overture. A friendly gesture. But he knew himself well enough to recognize that he wouldn’t be satisfied with a casual friendship. He wanted more. A whole lot more.
“Actually, I much prefer the popcorn,” Jeannie was saying. “But Milk Duds are the lesser of two evils.”
“Buttered popcorn?”
“Buttered,” she agreed.
Adam wasn’t sure what possessed him. He knew he’d kick himself later, but he stood up, carrying the bucket of popcorn and the drink, and moved to her row.
Jeannie smiled as he took a seat three away from her. “I’ve come to rescue you,” he said.
“Rescue me?”
“From eating the Milk Duds. If you’re going to consume unwanted calories, make it something you’ll truly enjoy.”
She seemed about to argue, then suddenly said, “You’re right.”
Grinning, he tilted the popcorn in her direction.
Jeannie helped herself to a handful, then savored each kernel. “This stuff is going to clog my arteries, add fat to my hips and get stuck between my teeth.”
“You can always refuse,” he reminded her.
Her hand stilled above the bucket. “I’ll do without lunch tomorrow and promise to floss after the movie.”
Adam chuckled.
“Here,” she said, handing him the Milk Duds.
“What’s this for?”
“My gift to you,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
The theater darkened then, and the previews began. A few more people entered and chose seats far from where they sat. Adam wasn’t sure who moved first, but by the time the movie started, he and Jeannie had each shifted one seat over and sat side by side.
The comedy was undeniably silly, and Adam howled with laughter. Jeannie did, too. The popcorn slowly disappeared and not long after, “The End” flashed across the screen. Then the lights came on, and they glanced at each other self-consciously. But neither Adam nor Jeannie made any attempt to get up.
“That was great,” Adam said, and he wasn’t referring just to the movie. This was what he’d envisioned a date with Jeannie would be like. Laughing together, enjoying each other’s company. It had happened by accident. However, he wasn’t sure what to suggest next. If anything.
“I haven’t laughed this hard in months,” she said.
He thought of asking her to dinner, but dismissed the idea immediately. No need to set himself up for more rejection. If Jeannie suggested something, though, that would be an entirely different matter.
She didn’t.
Adam finally stood. “Good seeing you again,” he said casually.
“You, too.” Jeannie got to her feet, as well, but neither made a move toward the aisle.
“I’d better be going now,” he muttered.
“Yeah, me, too.”
Adam forced himself to turn and start out of the theater, determined not to look back.
“Adam?”
He whirled around at the sound of her voice, cursing himself for appearing so eager.
“I thought you handled the situation with Lyle Whitehead beautifully…at the dance.”
“Thanks.” He lingered, wanting to say something and not knowing what. If only he’d had more experience, more finesse. “Did you, uh, enjoy the dance?” A question seemed the best way to continue the conversation.
“It was great.” Jeannie joined him in the aisle and they walked out of the theater together. “I learned more about th
e people of Promise in those few hours than the entire time I’ve lived here.”
“How’s that?”
Her smile was slow and it charmed him completely. “I saw my colleagues and my students’ parents outside the classroom—that was a real eye-opener.”
Adam chuckled.
“Now I know why certain children behave the way they do.”
They walked into the warmth of the late-June evening. Once again Adam toyed with the idea of inviting Jeannie for dinner. Once again he decided against it.
“Well, nice seeing you,” he said—for what? the third time?—and was about to turn away.
“You, too…Adam,” she said, slightly breathless. “I…” She paused and offered him a shaky smile. “Listen, you and I started off on the wrong foot, it seems.”
He waited.
“I was thinking maybe…you know, we could be friends.”
He thought about it for a moment. She’d opened the door, but not damn near far enough. Friends. She wanted to be friends. “No thanks, Jeannie.”
“No?” She looked stunned. “But I…I hoped…”
He’d also hoped, and it’d been a disaster. “You see, I want the popcorn, too. I’m afraid I’m not interested in the Milk Duds.” Adam could tell from her frown that she didn’t understand.
“I hate it when people talk in riddles,” she said. “I can’t figure them out.”
“You will,” he told her. Then he turned and strolled away.
Gordon Pawling was as giddy as a schoolboy. It’d been fifteen years since his wife’s death and he’d never expected to fall in love a second time, certainly not this late in life. He felt so young, so happy now. Since meeting Nessa, he felt full of purpose; he had a reason to get out of bed in the morning. His interest in the world around him grew. He found himself looking up old friends he hadn’t talked to in months, playing chess again. His passion for golf returned.
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