A Randall Thanksgiving

by Judy Christenberry

  “Dear,” Camille said softly.

  “But, Mom—”

  “I’m not saying I want you to marry this man. I don’t. But he is alone in a strange place. I think you should accompany him to lunch tomorrow.”

  Melissa gave in to her mother’s wishes. “Fine. Not that it’ll do him any good.” And with that, she stalked out of the family room.

  By the time she made it to her bedroom, the tears she’d held back were flowing freely. Swiping at them, she threw herself on her bed. Why did Pierre have to follow her—to Rawhide, of all places? Everyone in town would know the story in about half an hour.

  But the most important person had actually witnessed the scene. Harry.

  She’d never forget the look on his face when he’d said, “Your fiancé.”

  Becoming engaged to Pierre had been a colossal mistake, she knew now. He’d swept her off her feet about a year ago when they’d met at a sidewalk café on the Left Bank, where she’d gone to do some sketches. Suave and worldly, he’d wowed her and wooed her, until she couldn’t resist dating him, being with him, and finally accepting his proposal.

  She’d overlooked a lot, how he hadn’t approved of her apartment, her friends. How he’d tried to blind her to his faults—numerous as they were—by impressing her with his family’s wealth and position. But in the end, nothing about Pierre de Leon had impressed her—not when she’d seen him with another woman.

  She’d taken his ring off her hand and thrown it at him, and she stalked out, she’d told him the engagement was off and she never wanted to see him again.

  Why hadn’t that convinced him?

  And more importantly, she thought now, through her tears, how was she going to convince Harry?

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite having little sleep, Harry came in to work early to get his workout over for the day. He intended to be standing outside to watch Melissa meet Pierre. Harry wanted to be sure she didn’t join him in his apartment. Though what he would do if she did, he didn’t know.

  He gritted his teeth. If she did that, he’d never kiss her again. Or talk to her, for that matter.

  He shrugged off the other deputies’ questions about why he was in so early. In the weight room he tried to do too much, a kind of macho response that he didn’t want to think about. After he finished his workout, he showered and dressed and entered the Sheriff’s Office.

  “Hey, Harry, here’s a message for you,” one of the day guys called out.

  Harry took the slip of paper and stared at it. He hadn’t expected a call from Melissa. Was she phoning to tell him she was going back to France with Pierre?

  He dialed the number with foreboding. When Camille answered, he said, “Melissa left a message for me to call.”

  “Yes, I know, Harry. She left already, but she wanted you to go to lunch with her and Pierre. And I want you to go, too. I don’t trust that man!”

  “Me, neither, but I can’t talk Melissa out of anything. She has to make her own decision.”

  “Of course, I agree. But I’d feel better if you go with her. Could you?”

  “Yeah, I could go for an hour. But are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you very much.”

  “Okay. Will she come here before she goes to the café, or should I meet her there?”

  “She said she’d head to your office.”

  “Okay, Camille. Thanks.”

  After he hung up the phone, he stepped into Mike’s office to go over some business. The sheriff was curious about the Frenchman, but Harry didn’t say much about him.

  “I may drop by the café to meet him,” Mike mused. “I could try out my French.”

  “Sure, why not?” Harry said, his voice tight. He stepped outside the office to wait for Melissa. He didn’t want to discuss anything in front of his coworkers.

  Five minutes later, she pulled into a parking space close to the office, got out of the car and approached him. “Did you talk to Mom?”

  “Yes.” He wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

  “Will you go to lunch with me and Pierre?”

  “I told your mother I would, but I have some conditions.”

  “What are they?”

  “You sit beside me, not Pierre. You don’t go anywhere with him no matter what he says. And at the end of an hour, I have to be at work again, so you go home. Not with Pierre.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere with him!” she exclaimed, her voice full of anger.

  “Do you agree to those terms?” Harry asked, not easing his stance.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  He didn’t touch her during their short walk. They both saw Pierre come out of Dale’s apartment and wave to Melissa. When they reached the door to the café, they stood beside it, waiting as he crossed the street.

  “Bonjour, ma chère,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and bending down to kiss her.

  Melissa jerked out of his hold. “Harry is coming to lunch with us.”

  Pierre turned to stare at him. “You are not on duty?” he asked, looking at his uniform shirt.

  “No.” Harry put his hand on Melissa’s back to guide her into the restaurant.

  Pierre frowned. “You are a friend of Melissa? You have known her many years?”

  Harry didn’t want to answer that second question. “Long enough,” he replied.

  Pierre stared at him, not clear about what he’d said. Then the Frenchman realized he was being left behind, and hurried after them. When he reached the booth they had chosen, he found Melissa sitting against the wall and Harry firmly in place beside her.

  “Have a seat, Pierre,” Harry said calmly, indicating the bench across from him and Melissa.

  “But it is right that I sit with Melissa. She is my fiancée.”

  Harry shook his head and clucked his tongue. “We have an expression in the United States, Pierre. ‘Wake up and smell the coffee.’” Seeing his confused expression, Harry made his meaning clear. “Melissa broke off your engagement.” With a snap, he opened his menu. “Now, I can recommend the enchiladas.”

  Pierre stood there, sputtering. Then, as if instructed to compose himself, he took a breath and puffed out his chest. “What are enchiladas?” he asked.

  Harry gave him a detailed explanation until the waitress came to take their drink orders.

  “I have not seen your wine list,” Pierre said, finally sitting down.

  Beatrice put her hand on her ample hip. “Honey, don’t get cute with me. I’ve got other customers.”

  Harry smiled at Beatrice, who’d been working at the café for decades. “I’ll take care of this.” He turned to Pierre. “This is small-town Wyoming, not France,” he said. “Wine is not served at everyday restaurants. Here you drink beer, iced tea or water. So which would you like?”

  Pierre looked outraged. “I will have water.”

  Beatrice wrote that down, along with Harry and Melissa’s orders.

  But when she brought Pierre a glass of water, he blustered, “What is this? Where is the bottle?”

  “It’s water, honey.” Beatrice had lost her patience. “Take it or leave it.”

  He shooed her away with his hand, then looked at Melissa. “She is rude.”

  Melissa laughed, and Harry had to struggle not to join her. He was having too much fun trying to get Pierre’s goat.

  He asked how Pierre knew English so well.

  “I studied at Oxford for four years.”

  It figured he’d go to a fancy school. No ordinary one for Pierre. For some reason, that annoyed Harry. But annoyance was quickly replaced by amusement again when Beatrice brought Pierre his enchiladas. The man didn’t know what to make of his food, while Harry and Melissa dug right in.

  When they finished, Harry got up to go to work, Melissa following him out of the booth.

  “Goodbye, Pierre,” she said coolly. “Have a nice trip back.”

  “But
we will visit now that the officer must return to work.”

  “No, we will not.” Melissa started out of the café.

  “Non!” Pierre yelled, and stood to grab her arm.

  “Take your hands off her!” Harry ordered, advancing on him.

  “Is there a problem here, Harry?” a deep voice asked.

  He turned to find his boss no more than fifteen feet away.

  “No, I—” he began, but Mike interrupted him. The sheriff walked up to Pierre and rattled off something in French. Whatever he said made the man’s face heat up.

  Harry leaned in to Melissa. “What’s he saying?”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She took hold of his arm and started walking. “Lets get out of here.”

  “IS SOMETHING ON YOUR mind?” Camille asked Melissa the next morning, catching her by surprise.

  “I—I’ve been thinking about Harry.” She felt her cheeks flush, just saying his name.

  “He’s a wonderful man. I’m surprised some woman hasn’t snatched him up by now.”

  “Well, it won’t be Betsy. I’ve steered Dale in her direction.”

  “Why did you do that?” Camille asked calmly.

  “To— Uh, because I thought they made a good couple.” Melissa had been about to say because she wasn’t going to let the nurse get hold of Harry, but that was a little too much honesty to share.

  “Well, there are other women,” Camille said before she took a sip of her coffee.

  Her mother could always read her, Melissa mused. “I know,” she said glumly, propping her chin in her hand. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

  “Yes, too bad you’re going back to France.”

  “I’m not staying in France, Mom.”

  Camille stared at her daughter. “You’re not? When did you make this decision?”

  “It’s been evolving slowly.” In truth, she’d been debating it even before she’d left Paris, but she’d made the decision a few days ago. Yesterday’s fiasco with Pierre had sealed the deal. “Don’t say anything to Dad yet. I won’t be staying in Rawhide, either. I want to start my own company and I’m thinking New York might be a good place.” She’d done some research on the Internet last night—rather, this morning. She hadn’t slept a wink all night. And she’d finally typed the letter to Monsieur Jalbert. “It’s the most cosmopolitan city. And I’ll be able to come home more often.”

  “You’re not doing this because of my surgery, are you, dear? Because I promise I’ve got a few good years left in me.”

  Melissa reached a hand across the table to clasp her mother’s. “I know you do, Mom. But no, that’s not the reason. I’ve grown restless in Paris, working with Monsieur Jalbert. He’s rather controlling.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ve learned a lot in the time I spent with him, but I’ve decided enough is enough. After the holidays, I’ll go back to Paris and pack up. By then, I will have decided where to set up my business.”

  “This is exciting news for me, Melissa. I can fly to New York and see you whenever I want to. That’ll be terrific!”

  “Yeah, and I can come home whenever I want. I can see all the family.”

  “Yes, that will be lovely. Do you need a loan to start up your company? Because your father and I could—”

  “No, Mom, thanks, but I’ve saved some money over the past six years, plus I have the trust fund Grandpa set up for me. Dad has sent me a statement every year.”

  “Yes, your father is very good at what he does.”

  “Does he prefer playing the stock market more than he does ranching?” Melissa asked suddenly. That thought had never occurred to her. Was that why he had turned the ranch over to her brother?

  “Actually, I think so. Playing the stock market takes a lot of skill and constant reading, but it also involves the thrill of success. It takes a long year of hard work before a rancher knows if he’s been successful. Your father enjoys the excitement of the hunt for a good investment and the more immediate payoff.”

  “I don’t think John realizes that he’s doing Dad a favor. Maybe I should mention that to him,” Melissa said slowly, considering that idea from all sides.

  “Yes, it might be a good plan,” Camille said. “I hadn’t realized that John was struggling with his father’s decision until you said something earlier. It’s a good thing you came home for a lot of reasons, dear.”

  “Thanks, Mom. And please don’t tell Dad about my decision just yet.”

  “No, dear, I—”

  The phone rang.

  Melissa got up to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Hi, it’s Harry.”

  Melissa stepped out of the kitchen as far as the cord would let her. “Hi,” she replied, trying to control her breathing.

  “I need to ask you a favor.”

  “Sure.” She was so glad to hear from him after yesterday’s fiasco, she would’ve agreed to anything.

  “I wondered if you’d join me for dinner at the steak house tonight? Before you say anything I have to tell you it will be surveillance, not a date.”

  “Oh.” Almost immediately her high hopes were dashed.

  “We’ll be with Mike and Caroline.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll go?” Harry asked, sounding surprised.

  “Yes, I will. Shall I come to the Sheriff’s Office or meet you at the steak house? And what time?”

  “Eight, and come to the office.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well…okay.” And he hung up the phone.

  Melissa hung up, too. Clearly, Harry was still upset about Pierre. But it wasn’t her fault. She’d broken her engagement before she came home, and she wasn’t going to change her mind about that!

  She returned to the table in a pensive mood.

  “Something wrong?” her mother asked.

  “You might say that. Harry just asked me out to dinner tonight.”

  “HAVE YOU TALKED TO Melissa?” Mike asked as he came out of his office. “I can get Caro to—”

  “I talked to her. She agreed.” Harry didn’t look up.

  “Great. That’ll work. Dale, have you found someone?”

  “Yeah. Betsy, one of the nurses at the hospital, said she’d help me out. She doesn’t work tonight.”

  “Okay. We’re all set here. I hope we get lucky and catch the guy tonight. That would be a real feather in our cap. The boys in Buffalo would never forgive us,” Mike said with a grin.

  “Uh, yeah, boss, that’ll be fine,” Harry responded in a bland tone.

  “Is something wrong, Harry? When we talked about it earlier, you seemed to think this was a good idea.”

  “No, it is a good idea! I just— I hope it works.”

  “We sure don’t want a rapist from Buffalo thinking he can move his operation to Rawhide.”

  “Exactly. We’re having a fair number of ladies coming here from Buffalo because of the cowboys pouring into town on the weekends.”

  “Yeah,” Dale agreed. “It’s good for business at the steak house, but a serial rapist would ruin it.”

  Mike nodded. “Okay, be ready at eight. Is Melissa coming here?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be here,” Harry replied. He couldn’t believe that the first evening he took Melissa out would be on police business. However, he felt awkward with Pierre in town. And even if the Frenchman wasn’t in Rawhide, the fact that Melissa was heading back to France, where Pierre lived, made Harry feel reluctant to kiss her anymore.

  He stopped that thought. He wanted to kiss Melissa, but he didn’t think he should. That was the problem. His conscience wouldn’t let him do it. Damn. He guessed it was good that he wouldn’t have a chance to.

  Shortly before eight that evening, Harry went upstairs and changed his shirt. He put on a holster at the small of his back, then added a corduroy jacket to cover the gun. When he saw Melissa’s car pull up, he hurried out of his apartment and down the stairs.

  By the time he reached her vehicle, she was alread
y standing beside it. He gave her an awkward greeting. “You, uh, are a couple of minutes early.”

  “I didn’t want to be late.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I’m sure Mike and Caroline are ready, but we can go inside out of the cold to check on—”

  “Hi, guys,” Mike said from behind Harry. “You both ready to go?”

  “Yes, I think we are,” Melissa said.

  Harry turned around and nodded to his boss.

  “Then let’s go have some steaks. I’m starving.”

  Harry waited until Mike and Caroline had passed him. Then he indicated Melissa should follow the others. He stepped up beside her, but was careful not to touch her.

  Once inside the restaurant, Mike led them to an empty table with a Reserved sign on it.

  He and Harry took the seats facing the door, while Caroline and Melissa sat opposite them.

  The women were chatting about the family when Harry suddenly stood. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Melissa had actually forgotten about the surveillance aspect of their evening. She stared after him as he followed a couple out of the restaurant.

  “Sorry, Melissa,” Mike said. “He’ll be back soon.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Caroline drew her attention. “Did you hear we’re building a new house?”

  “Actually, Harry mentioned it. Are you looking forward to moving?”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “The moving part won’t be fun, though many members of the family have volunteered to help us. But I’m excited about the new house. Right now we don’t have a lot of room. But I had to give up my home office when we had Sam. Now, with baby Jake, the two boys have to share the second bedroom, and they wake each other up.”

  “Separate rooms would be nice.”

  “Most definitely. The new house even has a study for Mike and me to share.”

  “What are you going to do with your old house?”

  “We haven’t decided. Maybe we’ll rent it out unless someone comes along who wants to buy it.”

  Harry returned at that moment, slipping into his chair and shaking his head at Mike.

  Unable to restrain herself, Melissa reached out and touched his arm. “Did you— I mean—”