Mommy Heiress (Accidental Dads #2)

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “But she found her way down to the Diner,” Denise teased.

  “You mean Myrna’s?” Cori asked.

  “No, we used to have this great diner that looked like a railroad car,” Denise answered. “It first opened in the forties and for lack of a better name was called the Diner. Great jukebox and great food.”

  “The owner died about fifteen years ago,” Ben took up the story. “His remaining family lived out of the state and didn’t want anything to do with it. Unfortunately, no one had the money to keep it up, so the diner was eventually hauled off and the land sold.”

  “The car’s over in Dawson’s northeast field now,” Stan continued. “He can’t use the land for anything, so it’s been sitting there, turning into another weed.”

  “That’s sad! Fifties and sixties clubs have gotten popular again and it would have been a great drawing place just for the neighboring towns,” Cori said, sipping her seltzer. “It’s a shame no one can revive it.”

  “Probably too late now.” Stan’s expression was somber. “But we had some great times there.”

  “Hey, I do not intend to stand here and get depressed,” Denise finally spoke up. “Come on, Cori, it looks like those steaks are almost done. We’ll bring out the rest of the food.”

  “Tell the monsters—I mean the kids—it’s time to eat,” Stan called after her.

  Denise pulled bowls out of the refrigerator and unplugged the Crockpot, which held the baked beans. “Why don’t you take the beans out?” She walked to the hall and yelled, “Kids, wash up for dinner! And I do mean with soap.” She shook her head as she walked back in. “Amazing how dirty kids can get just playing video games.”

  Cori laughed as she heard the stomp of feet in the distance.

  “They sound like a herd of elephants.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that, too,” Denise said wryly.

  “Food!” was shouted in unison as three boys raced for the back door.

  “Hold it!” Denise called in the manner of a drill sergeant. “Take a platter out with you.”

  The boys lined up, each taking the bowl or platter their mother held out.

  “Walk, do not run, to the table,” she reminded their retreating figures. “And do not even think of a food fight!”

  “Okay” came back in unison.

  “Why do I bother when I know they don’t listen,” Denise said with the beleaguered sigh of a mother.

  Cori laughed again as she watched the boys jockey for what they felt were the best positions for eating, then proceeded to fight among themselves until Stan put a stop to their horseplay.

  “I just bet your baby will grow up to be the perfect child the rest of us mothers will hate because our children aren’t like that,” Denise said sagely as they carried bowls outside.

  “But then again, my darling might end up as a star on ‘America’s Most Wanted,’” Cori said, tongue in cheek.

  Denise halted for a moment and lightly touched Cori’s arm. “Honey, you do realize we’re all here for you,” she said, sincerity warming her gaze. “You’ll never have to feel alone through this.”

  Cori was touched by the woman’s assurance. “I know that and I’m grateful.”

  All through the meal, Cori felt the warmth surrounding her like a favorite old quilt. Ben had done more than make sure she was healthy and ate correctly. He was wonderful moral support and she had learned that she could offer the same when he mourned the passing of a patient. Her four-man entourage accompanied her on her walks, even though she now took them early in the morning before it got too warm. And people who used to look at her curiously now greeted her with warm familiarity. She knew names of the children and their pets. She was slowly but surely feeling a part of the town.

  Denise turned to Cori. “Since you worked on fund-raisers before, how would you like to help the church fund-raiser we’re putting on next month?”

  “Hey, Cori, say a quick no,” Stan advised as he forked steaks onto the plates. “Denise does this every year, and every year we go through hell while she does all the organizing.”

  “Stan!” Denise cut a quick look at the boys.

  “Trust me, they’ve heard worse on TV.” He turned back to Cori. “Denise has already spent the past two weeks running around, picking up donations from everyone. Our living room is filled with just about anything you can think of—including Mrs. Peabody’s ugly ceramic cats.”

  “A lot of people around here enjoy making things,” Denise explained. “And they’re always popular at the social we put on.”

  “Especially all the afghans Denise knits,” Ben put in.

  “My way of coping with nights of bad TV,” she joked. “I’ll show you after dinner.”

  “Tell me more about the Diner,” Cori suggested as they ate. She and Ben sat on one side of the table, Ben’s thigh rubbing companionably against hers.

  “It was great,” Stan spoke first. “All these wild neon signs, the jukebox going at all times.”

  “We got together there after every game. After all the dances. We celebrated going steady, even engagements,” Denise added.

  “It was understood by all the parents that we wouldn’t get into trouble while we were in there,” Ben went on. “We were there for burgers and Cokes—”

  “And to pick up women,” Stan expanded, then ducked when Denise playfully swiped at him. “Not me, honey. You were always the only one for me.”

  “You remember that.”

  After they ate, Denise put the three boys to work rinsing off dishes and putting them in the dishwasher while she took Cori into the living room.

  Cori took her time, looking over the variety of handmade items. “People in town did all of this?” she asked, fingering a patchwork quilt.

  Denise nodded. “In town and along the outlying areas.”

  “With all this talent, I’m surprised you don’t have a craft boutique.”

  “Is that popular?”

  Cori nodded. “My dad’s secretary’s daughter makes jewelry and sells it. She took me down to one and I was hooked right away. I think a boutique would be great for around here. And, you know, there’s that empty store in town.”

  Denise didn’t look convinced. “Cori, no one’s got that kind of money.”

  Cori’s mind was already whirling. “A few cans of paint, the crafters talk their husbands into building the booths and you find someone who will give you a break on the rent for the first year. It’s done all the time.”

  “Not in Farrington.”

  “It’s something to think about,” Cori insisted. “If you all worked together you could have something. It’s too bad that other restaurant closed. People would have loved the atmosphere. I’m not saying Myrna’s isn’t good, because it is, but the competition wouldn’t have hurt.” She picked up a fluffy baby blanket knitted in soft pastel shades. She pressed it against her cheek.

  “Still, I know we need you helping on the fund-raiser.”

  Cori thought of the others she had helped with. Ones that dealt with millions of dollars. She knew this one would be a bare fraction of that amount, but she had an idea she would probably have a lot more fun.

  *

  “DID YOU HAVE A GOOD TIME?“ Ben asked as they later drove back to town.

  Cori suppressed a yawn. “It was great.”

  “Even with Denise talking you into helping her with the fund-raiser?”

  “I was hooked once she explained the proceeds were put into a hospital building fund,” she replied. “I heard one of the accident victims you treated made a nice contribution.”

  “He did and it was greatly appreciated.”

  Cori looked out the window. “Are we far from the field that has that diner you all were talking about?” she asked suddenly.

  “A few miles.” Ben was whistling under his breath.

  She turned toward him. “Could I see it?”

  “There’s not all that much to see, Cori. It’s nothing more than a rusted old relic in the middle o
f a field.”

  “An old relic that holds a lot of memories. Don’t worry, I have a great imagination. Please?” she asked in a husky voice as she ran her fingers up and down his thigh.

  He could feel himself weakening. But he already knew it never took much where Cori was concerned.

  “All right, but ten to one the minute we get there I’ll get a call and we’ll have to leave.”

  “And maybe you won’t.” She playfully punched his arm. “Be optimistic, Ben! There are times when the people are polite enough not to get sick.”

  Ben pulled off the road, took several side roads and slowed to a stop. He jumped out of the truck and walked around to help her out.

  “Careful, it’s pretty rough going here.” He threaded his fingers through hers as he led her across a field covered with dry grass. “Watch the rocks.”

  Cori grimaced as she felt an itchy feeling travel from her ankles to her calves—she guessed from the grass. The sound of insects echoed in her ears and she only hoped they wouldn’t hop from the ground up her legs. Ben kept a steadying hand on her so she wouldn’t stumble over the uneven ground. She looked up just as they rounded a clump of bushes and he gestured to a space ahead of them.

  The silver railroad car set up on blocks looked tarnished under the still-blazing late-afternoon sun. Windows were smudged but unbroken and one door hung crazily open. With grass growing up around the building it looked as if aliens had abruptly dropped it into the field.

  Cori recalled pictures of diners from the forties and fifties fashioned from railroad cars and streetcars. But this looked like a space-age automobile. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to visualize it the way it must have looked years ago. Luckily, it wasn’t difficult.

  “I spent a lot of evenings in this place,” Ben said reminiscently. “Had a lot of good times.”

  “It’s a shame someone didn’t take it over.” Cori started to step inside, but Ben held her back.

  “We don’t know what might have taken up residence in there.”

  “Please? I’ll be careful. It’s not as if bears live around here.”

  His shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. “If I say no, you’ll go, anyway, so I guess I better go first.” He took a tentative step inside and reached back to take hold of Cori’s hand, pulling her up.

  The counter was covered with bits of grass—obviously previous nests for field mice—as were the red leather seats and booths, now split open, their stuffing providing more nests.

  “Oh, Ben, it’s not fair,” she murmured. “You can’t let it stagnate out here.”

  “No one has the money necessary to revive it, and besides, what good would it do?” Ben took her hand and pulled gently, leading her out of the building.

  Cori looked back once as they walked away.

  “It still isn’t fair,” she said as Ben helped her into the truck.

  “Cori, in the space of one day you’re trying to save everything. I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

  Ben realized that taking her out there was a mistake. Because no matter what he said, she wasn’t about to listen.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but she spun toward him, a look of wonder on her face.

  “Ben, I felt the baby move!” she whispered. She grabbed his hand and placed it against her abdomen. She seemed to be holding her breath. “Feel it? It’s as if butterflies are flying around inside.”

  The tiniest of flutters seemed to tickle his palm. At that moment, Ben knew he could never think of the baby as anyone’s but his.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dr. Cooper’s Clinic

  Ben was worried and he hated to admit it.

  It was Cori.

  Each day, he worried would be their last together. Even the mornings he woke up, with Cori warmly ensconced in his arms he feared she would decide she’d had it with rural life and call her father to come rescue her. And that fear twisted a vicious knot in his gut. Lately, he’d even taken to going past Cal’s to check that her car was still under the tarp.

  He might as well face it. He was in love with her.

  Though he’d suspected it for a while now, he finally admitted it. Even though it was only to himself. Was he ready to tell Cori? He groaned at the thought, and turned over on the couch.

  And what about the baby? Ever since he’d felt it move, he’d been hooked. He couldn’t stop the fantasies from coming: him out playing ball with his son, teaching him to fish, maybe even one day passing on the clinic to him, as his father had done.

  Somehow, he’d just come to think of the baby as his. But he had no idea how Cori would react to that. It was one thing for the town to gossip that he was the father, but quite a different thing for him to claim he wanted to be.

  He shook his head, hoping to clear his muddled thoughts. But it did little good.

  His tiny living room looked dull and drab after all the time he spent at the cottage with Cori. But right now, he couldn’t handle going over there. He knew she was still at the school, and while she had put her stamp in every room it just wasn’t the same when she wasn’t there.

  Cori had added her love for color everywhere by putting out bunches of dried flowers in small pitchers, throwing an afghan Denise had given her over the back of the couch and scattering her array of cosmetics throughout the bathroom. He knew he could never look at the cottage through the same eyes again.

  Cori had already thrown herself wholeheartedly into fund-raising for Denise, who’d privately told him that Cori was the best organizer she’d ever seen. Vivian told him that Cori stopped by every few days and offered suggestions to jazz up her display window. Even Elliott had finally come around and added several shelves of vitamin therapy to his store.

  All the while, Cori had brought up the idea of a craft boutique to everyone she talked to. Some were excited by the ideas, but more were skeptical. But that hadn’t stopped her.

  “Hey! Where are you?”

  He jumped at the sound of the familiar voice.

  “I’m upstairs,” he called out and sat up on the couch.

  Cori walked into the room with a bouncy step.

  “I’m actually getting used to all that running,” she told him, nestling herself in his lap. She finger-combed his hair. “And I carried on a conversation about Bugs Bunny and knew what I was talking about. I am making a lot of headway there.”

  Ben smiled. “Mrs. Timmerman better watch out.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not even close to her abilities, but I’m slowly climbing up the rungs. Is your stomach up to my cooking or do we go to Myrna’s?”

  “Actually, I had another idea in mind.” He curved his hand around her nape and brought her face to his for a kiss. “Dr. Willoughby offered to cover for me tonight, thanks to Mama offering to cook him one of her famous dinners. So how would you like to go out for dinner and a movie tonight?”

  Her delight turned to confusion. “It sounds great, but last I looked Farrington didn’t have a movie theater.”

  “I was thinking more about going to the drive-in theater that’s about twenty miles from here.”

  “A drive-in,” she murmured. “A real drive-in theater?”

  He nodded. “One of the last ones around. Right after we have the kind of dinner I wouldn’t recommend to most of my patients. But since I’m always telling you you need to gain a little more weight I figure the extra calories won’t hurt you.”

  Cori’s eyes lit up. “Are we talking greasy hamburgers and fries?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Sounds great!” She almost bounced in her eagerness.

  “Really?” He was surprised by her reaction. “I thought I’d have to hog-tie you to go.”

  “No, lately, I have been craving a hamburger with everything on it and a ton of fries.” She shook her head. “Seems junk food is all I want lately.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed the candy bar wrappers in the trash. Not to mention an empty Ding Dongs box.”

  “They tas
te good,” she defended herself. “When can we leave?”

  “An hour?”

  “I’ll be ready.” She leaned in to him for a deep kiss that had both of them thinking about forgetting dinner and the movie and just staying where they were.

  “Hm, I’ll say you are,” he mumbled when she drew back. With a deep sigh of regret, he levered himself upward. “I really need a shower, so I’ll be by in about an hour to pick you up.” He held out his hands and pulled her to her feet.

  In deference to the late-summer heat, Ben wore khaki shorts and a T-shirt and kept his feet bare in running shoes.

  He had barely approached Cori’s door when it opened and she stepped out.

  “Wow.” He let out a low whistle of appreciation. “You look great.”

  “Really?” she asked with a hopeful air. She turned around in a tight circle. In bright pink bike shorts and a multicolored maternity top, she was the closest thing to heaven he’d ever seen. Her hair had grown quite a bit over the months and she wore it tied in a short bouncy ponytail to keep it off her nape.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he was in love with her, but he couldn’t. Not here. Not with the sun still shining overhead. No, he’d wait until later when it was dark and the moon was out. Yeah, that was it. He wanted his declaration to sound as romantic as hell. And confessing it in a doorway wasn’t all that romantic.

  “Then let’s get out of here before someone decides they need me,” he teased, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the truck.

  The drive went by fast as Cori sang along with the radio and treated him to some of the knock-knock jokes she had learned from the kids that day.

  “You know, having these prekindergarten classes is great. They’re already primed for school and they’ll do much better,” she chattered. “And did you know Mrs. Timmerman tats? Makes lace, that is. She learned from her mother. She brought in doilies she had made and they were beautiful. I told her I once read somewhere tatting was a lost art. She’s donating them for the fund-raiser. We had the kids decorate posters today that the high school kids are going to take around to the other towns and put up. They’re really cute.”