“What, baby?” she asked, looking into Bella’s sweet face. How could she bathe, feed, and hold this child and not feel like her mother? But on the other hand, she wasn’t their mother, no matter how many blissful hours she spent in their father’s arms. And it was blissful—so blissful that she was afraid it wouldn’t last. Ironic, that she’d never feared that with Gregory. She’d known death would part them; she just hadn’t known it would be so soon.
“Drink,” Bella demanded.
“Lovely to talk with you,” Abby said to the quilter as she fished the sippy cup of apple juice out of her bag and passed it from child to child. She’d given up trying to stop them from drinking after each other long ago.
“Okay. Let’s go see about those Halloween costumes,” Abby said to the children. “Then maybe we’ll stop by and see Aunt Neyland and Aunt Noel.”
As she wheeled down the street toward Sugar and Spice, the children chattered to each other.
“Pip! Allie!” Then Bella shifted into some sort of toddler speak that Abby didn’t understand, but Phillip and Alice must have because they died laughing.
“Oh!” Alice squealed and began to applaud. “Pretty!”
“Red!” Phillip shouted.
“Scary ball!” Bella said.
Abby looked up to discover the object of their delight. It wasn’t red, and it wasn’t a ball, but it certainly was pretty—a work of art, in fact, like every piece of stained glass Heath Beckett made.
She pushed the stroller closer to the front window of Heath’s shop, Spectrum.
“Orange,” Abby said, pointing to the giant sun catcher. “This is a pumpkin made into a jack-o’-lantern.” But this wasn’t an ordinary jack-o’-lantern. This one was wearing a top hat with a bat on top, and he had stars for eyes and a crooked grin that was almost sweet. He looked like he was in love. Abby laughed at herself. A jack-o’-lantern couldn’t be in love. She was projecting. Still, leave it to Heath to make such a whimsical design. Gregory wouldn’t have put the effort into something so fanciful. He was more given to mosaics, classic designs, and art nouveau. Heath had always said that once he stopped taking himself so seriously, Gregory would make a fine glass artist. Gregory had not been best pleased when Heath had told him his technique was excellent, but he kept trying to reproduce things that had already been done and better.
“Uncle Jack?” Alice looked confused.
“No, sweetheart. Jack-o’-lantern,” Abby corrected.
“Uncle Jack-o!” This time Alice nodded when she said it, as if to say, “Got it.” Close enough.
Phillip pointed to the stack of real pumpkins sitting on a hay bale beside Spectrum’s front door. “Not Jack-o?”
“Not yet.” Abby bent and kissed her son’s head. “You’re so smart. Did you know that?”
“He should be. He has a smart mama.”
Abby looked up to see Heath standing in the open door of Spectrum.
“Hello, Heath.” She had always liked Heath, and, despite his blunt, constructive criticism of Gregory’s work, Heath and Gregory had had a warm relationship—or as warm as anyone had with Heath. But Abby had come to associate Heath with the darkest time of her life and had avoided him. She felt none of that now. “I’ve missed seeing you.” And that was true.
He brushed his messy, tawny hair away from his face and gave her one of his rare smiles. “So much so that you were going to come in?” He’d offered her a job after Gregory died, but she’d turned him down. Aside from needing distance from Heath and the place where Gregory had pursued his dreams, Abby knew Heath didn’t need help in the shop beyond his apprentices and the high school kids who worked random hours here and there. More than that, he didn’t want someone underfoot full time—or really ever. Heath was a loner. “It’s been a while.”
She’d last seen him when he’d brought a client into Mill Time for lunch.
Abby motioned to the stroller. “I travel in a pack these days.”
He stepped onto the sidewalk, nodded to the girls, and patted Phillip’s head. “Hi, Phillip. Where’s Poppy hiding?”
“Poppy home. He sleepy,” Phillip said. Lately, Phillip had been less attached to Poppy, really only demanded him at bedtime.
Heath turned to Abby. “Come in. I’ll make you some tea. And I like a pack.”
She laughed. “That’s a lie.”
“No,” he deadpanned. “I have tea.” He picked up the front of the stroller. “Want a ride?”
Bella clapped. “Go fast!”
Abby guided the stroller inside. “The shop looks nice.”
“Now who’s lying?” Heath went behind the counter and popped a pod into the coffee maker. “Irish breakfast?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “The shop’s a mess. And my workroom is worse.”
That was true—but not entirely fair. “I think it’s a treasure trove. I doubt if Ali Baba’s cave was any neater.” The shop was filled with glass art supplies, books, tools, and, of course, finished works—a few by Heath himself, though he worked mostly by commission. “It’s an interesting, busy place. You can feel the creativity, almost taste it in the air.” She fished some small toys and a container of goldfish crackers out of her bag. “Do you mind if the kids eat in here?”
He handed her the mug of tea. “You’re kidding, right?”
The floor did need sweeping.
She settled onto a stool. “You did the jack-o’-lantern in the window, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “Odd, huh? I got a wild hair.” He popped another pod into the machine. This time, the smell of coffee filled the air.
“Not so odd. The kids loved it.”
He pulled a stool up beside her. “Cute kids.”
“They are,” she said. “They look like Rafe.”
He took a sip of his coffee and fixed his light brown eyes on hers. They weren’t bad eyes. Some would call them whiskey colored. Actually, they were quite nice; they just weren’t huge and blue with lashes that went on forever.
“So, I hear you and Rafe are together.”
Her head snapped up so fast, it was a wonder she hadn’t given herself whiplash.
“Not who I would have expected for you, Abby,” Heath carried on. “But it’s great. I don’t know Rafe except in passing, but the Beaufords are good folks.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“Is it not true?”
“I didn’t say that.” It wasn’t as if it was a secret, and it wasn’t as if they had agreed not to tell anyone. They were just living their lives and living inside themselves.
“Jimpson told me. But that doesn’t mean anyone told him.” Heath chuckled a little, which was as close to a laugh as Abby had ever heard him get. “Jimpson just seems to know things—absorbs truths out of the air.”
“Maybe Rafe told him,” Abby said. “Jimpson’s been helping Rafe almost every day.”
“So what does your family say? Are they happy for you?” His face said that he doubted it.
“I haven’t told them. There’s really nothing to tell. It has only been a few weeks.” It was mind boggling that she had come to feel so intensely connected to Rafe is that space of time.
“That’ll be a tough conversation to have—especially with Gregory’s parents.”
“You should know,” Abby said. Heath had married young, and his even-younger wife had died six months later. But surely he’d had at least one relationship since. It had been years.
Heath shook his head. “No. I never had to have that conversation with Aimee’s parents. I dated some after she died, but nothing ever got that far.”
“Maybe this won’t either.”
Heath gave her a knowing look. “I suspect it already has.”
As Abby opened her mouth to protest, Alice cried out, “Mama! Out!”
Heath nodded, and might as well have said, “I rest my case.” But Heath wasn’t one to speak the words if a gesture would do.
“Well.” Abby rose and handed her mug to Heath. “Somebody’s been in the stroller too long. Thank
s for the tea.”
“Abby, wait,” Heath said. “I was going to call you today anyway. I have a check for you.”
“A check?”
“I sold one of Gregory’s pieces a week ago. I didn’t tell you sooner, because the client wanted to live with it a few days and make sure. But he called this morning and said he would be keeping it.”
She’d almost forgotten. Gregory’d had three pieces for sale when he died. Heath had asked her if she was sure she wanted to sell, and she had assured him she had. There had been a mission-style lampshade, a fireplace screen, and a small rose window. The lampshade—the least expensive item, had sold right away, but nothing since.
Heath seemed almost apologetic when he handed her the check. Two thousand dollars. So it had been the screen. “Maybe I should have asked you before I sold it, but you seemed so sure when we last discussed it.”
“I was sure, and I am.” She pocketed the check. While she wasn’t as desperate as she had been, this was still a very welcome bit of insurance against emergencies. “Thank you, Heath.”
“That leaves only the window.” He glanced to the spot where the light danced through the rich purples, reds, and blues of the piece. “Are you certain?”
Unspoken words hung in the air. It was the last piece he made.
“I’m sure,” Abby said crisply.
“Don’t you think maybe … for Phillip? Gregory was really beginning to find his way with that piece.”
“Gregory’s son has to eat and have shoes.” And Gregory did nothing to help ensure that. Abby wished she could call the words back—and unthink the unspoken ones.
“If it’s a matter of money, let me—”
“Buy the window and save it for Phillip? No, Heath. It’s not just a matter of finances.” Abby recalled what Neyland always said about her jewelry and revamped it for her own purposes. “The greatest honor an artist can receive is to have someone purchase a piece and cherish it. It would please Gregory more for someone to buy his window because they fall in love with it.”
Heath nodded. “All right. Still, I’ll call you when I get an offer. I’d feel better about that.”
“Sure. Ready to go, kiddos?” she said cheerfully. “We need to get those Halloween costumes.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You’re getting soft.” Gabe finally stepped off the treadmill. He retrieved a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator before sitting down on the weight bench facing the juice bar where Rafe and Jackson sat.
“Yeah. That’s us. Soft.” Jackson took a drink of his own Gatorade.
“I stopped trying to keep up with you in the womb,” Rafe said. “That’s why you got out first. I could’ve. Easy.”
“Looks like you’d get enough of a workout with your team,” Jackson said.
“If I didn’t work out here, you two slackers never would.”
“Working out would have been easier before we ate,” Rafe said. Though sometimes Dirk and Gwen ate with their kids at their own house and Gabe and Neyland went out, everyone had sat down together tonight, as they seemed to be doing more and more these days. With all the noise, good food, and kids, it had been fun. Plus, Abby had looked hot in a short, khaki skirt and white T-shirt. If Alice hadn’t crawled in his lap and demanded to eat from his plate, he might have put the moves on Abby under the table. “Why did we have to wait until after dinner?”
“Because you were out playing with the horses,” Gabe said. “And Gwen waits dinner on no man.”
“I might quit working out,” Rafe said. “This might be my last one.
“Not working. Not working out. What do you plan to do?” In spite of his words, Jackson was smiling, clearly elated that Rafe had announced his retirement.
Now was as good a time as any to tell them what he’d been thinking.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to y’all about that—what I intend to do. Jimpson and I have the stable in good shape. I can’t ride Arion and play with my kids all day for the rest of my life.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said. “Eventually, the little vampires are going to leave home. Then you’d have no one to play with.”
Rafe was still afraid of those little vampires, but less every day. They were so cute and smart.
“You’re not rethinking your retirement are you?” Jackson asked.
“Like you did? No. One revoked retirement per family is enough.” Oddly, Rafe was relieved to be off the circuit—off the circuit and in Abby’s bed. “Still, a man’s got to work—especially this man. I’m going to have all manner of tutus and such to pay for.” And maybe he’d have a boy to take care of, too. It was too soon to say for certain, but it sure felt like it was headed that way.
“What have you got in mind?” Gabe asked.
“I thought I might have to beg Emory to take me on as a waiter for Around the Bend, but I had a better idea.”
“Bartender?” Gabe asked. “She’d hire you for that. And you’d get tips.”
“Gabriel,” Jackson said. “Let’s hear him out.”
“Do you remember how when I was a kid I used to say I wanted to breed Tennessee Walking Horses?”
Gabe and Jackson exchanged a concerned look. They always thought he was dumber than he was, or at least more naive.
“Rafe,” Jackson said almost apologetically, “that industry is in trouble—has been for a while.”
“I know that. Besides, I was a kid. I liked horses, and someone had given me a book on Tennessee Walkers. But buying Arion and Snowball and cleaning out the stable got me thinking, and I’ve done a little research. I’d like to start a stock contracting company.”
Jackson’s and Gabe’s expressions went blank.
“I don’t know what that is,” Gabe said.
It was a fair bet Jackson didn’t either, but he wouldn’t say so unless he had to.
“A stock contractor provides the rough stock for rodeos—broncos, bulls, steers for wrestling. I could do it, and I have the rodeo contacts.”
“Where would you have to go to do this?” Jackson looked alarmed, but Rafe knew he’d like the answer.
“The south end of Beauford Bend, if the two of you and Beau agree. There’s nothing out there, and it’s far enough away from here that there’s no danger of a bull getting loose and tramping through an Around the Bend event.”
Jackson nodded. “Good to know. Emory wouldn’t take too kindly to that.”
“So about the property?” Rafe asked.
Jackson and Gabe looked surprised.
“That’s a given, Rafe,” Jackson said. “This is your home. I admit I wouldn’t want to live in the middle of a bunch of wild rodeo animals, but this a big property.”
“We’ll ask Beau if he ever calls again,” Gabe said. “But he’ll feel the same.”
“Gabriel,” Jackson said sharply. “Don’t imply your brother might not call again.”
“Sorry,” Gabe said. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“Sorry, too.” Jackson covered his eyes briefly. “It’s been a month. I’m edgy.”
“We all are.” Gabe turned back to Rafe. “Do you have the money for this?”
Rafe nodded. “I do. To be honest, it will take everything I’ve got to get set up right, but there’s money to be made, and I intend to make it. And, meanwhile, the girls and I aren’t in danger of having to live on the street.”
“I hate to see you use everything you’ve got. Suppose I invest?” Jackson said.
“I hadn’t considered investors,” Rafe admitted, which pointed out how little business sense he had. Breeding and selling the stock was one thing. He knew in his gut he’d be good at it. But the money, especially investing almost every penny of his hard- earned savings, part gave him pause.
“I wouldn’t be doing it only to help you,” Jackson said “You say there’s money to be made. I want some of it. I trust that you know what you’re doing.”
Rafe nodded. “I don’t really care what your reasons are. If you want in, you’re in.”
“Me, too,” Gabe said. “Only I don’t trust that you know what you’re doing—on the business side anyway. As for the rest, if you say you can do it, I believe you.”
Gabe had a nose for business and, for the most part, managed his own investments.
“That’s fair,” Rafe said. “I don’t know everything about the practical parts, but I know enough to know what I need to learn. As for the business side, I had thought I’d have to hire a manager.”
Gabe shook his head. “It might come to that, but for now, you’ve got me.”
“Do you have a plan?” Jackson asked.
Rafe laughed. “No. But I have a plan to make a plan. And the first part was to talk to y’all and find out about the location. Check. And since I got investors, I’m two checks ahead. Jackson, I’m sure you’ll want lawyers involved.”
“Lawyers always have to be involved. But not to protect us from each other. Never that.”
“One thing I did think of,” Rafe said. “When Beau comes home, he’s going to need a job, and he’s not going to have any money. He might want to be part of this.”
Jackson’s head snapped up. “Perfect!”
“Don’t jump the gun,” Gabe said. “Beau always did have an opinion.”
“I guess we found that out when he ran off and joined the army instead of going to Vandy like he was supposed to.”
They’d been over this a thousand and one times, and it looked like Jackson was never going to make peace with it.
“Well, it’s an option for him.” Gabe turned to Rafe. “What does Abby say?”
“What?” He hadn’t told anyone about Abby and him, wasn’t sure what there was to tell. And he doubted if Abby had. Had Gabe read his emotions about her after all? “Why would I discuss this with my nanny?”
Jackson and Gabe both burst out laughing.
“Seriously?” Jackson turned to Gabe. “He seriously doesn’t know that everyone on this plantation knows.”
“I need a shower,” Rafe said. And he was gone.
• • •
Later, showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, Rafe stretched out on Abby’s bed. He’d given up all pretenses of using his room. He didn’t even shower in there anymore. No wonder everyone knew what they were up to. Not that he cared.
Redeeming Rafe Page 15
