by Judy Angelo
Becky laughed. “I’m fourteen. You didn’t expect me to stay short forever, did you? And anyway, I only grew half an inch since April. I checked.”
That made Blake laugh out loud. “You can check all you want. It’s going to take a long while before you catch up to me.”
“Grr.” Becky gave her a punch on the arm in response to the reminder.
Blake let her go for a second so she could grab her bag from the front seat. “Here. Carry this in for me, will you?” She gave the bag to her sister. “Make use of those strong arms.”
“With pleasure,” Becky said, her green eyes sparkling in the distant light. “As long as it's got stuff for me.”
Blake chuckled. “Of course. If I didn’t bring you something you’d probably lock me out of the house.”
“You know it,” the cheeky girl responded.
Blake only grinned and threw her arms around her sister’s shoulders and so they walked into the house together. When they got inside Rosie was busy setting the dining table, as Blake knew she would be. Her mother would have had a meal waiting in the oven and had probably hurried to prepare the table as soon as she heard the truck rumble onto the driveway. In appropriate tribute to her name, Rosie loved flowers but she had another love that came a close second. That was cooking. She was the kind of mother who would never expect the arrival of her daughter and not have a hearty meal ready.
“Mom.”
At the sound of Blake’s voice Rosie turned and her brown eyes lit up as she smiled. “Blake.” Just like she’d done with her sister, her mother now spread her arms wide and Blake let go of Becky and walked right into the warm embrace. Their hug was tight and strong, a testament to the depth of their love.
“It feels like I haven’t seen you in months,” her mother said softly.
“I know,” Blake said, “even though it’s been weeks.” Then she gave her mother one last squeeze and stepped back. “And I never get tired of getting your letters every week.”
Rosie only smiled and patted her arm. “Go wash up. I know you’re starving and I’ve got your favorite tonight.”
Blake didn’t have to be told twice. She headed for the bathroom and minutes later she was seated at the dining table with Becky to the left of her and her mother at the head of the table and to her right. Then, while she tucked into her grilled chicken Becky gave her an update on all that had been happening in the neighborhood since the last time she’d come home.
“There’s a new boy in my class,” she told Blake. “He’s gross.”
“Becky, that’s not nice.” Rosie gave her a stern look. “In our family if we can’t say something nice we say nothing at all.”
“Yeah, I know, but this kid’s really, really gross. There’s absolutely nothing nice to say about him. He’s way tall and he’s all pimply and stuff and his voice goes high and then it goes low and he sounds weird.” Then she rolled her eyes. “Victoria says he’s cute but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. But the real reason I think he’s weird is that he keeps staring at me. A lot. He thinks I don’t notice but I do.”
When Becky finally paused to draw breath Blake laid her fork down and tilted her head as she turned her full attention on her sister. “Are you sure you’re not saying that,” she gave her an indulgent smile, “because you like it that he seems so interested in you? Maybe you like him, too, just a little bit?”
“Eew, gross. I wouldn’t like him if he was the last boy on earth. He’s from California and he talks funny.”
“Oh, I see,” Blake said gravely. “That makes all the difference in the world.”
That made Becky frown. “I know you’re teasing me. I’m not stupid.”
Blake only shook her head and smiled but she could tell that her comment had made Becky stop and think. A thoughtful look crept into her sister’s eyes and then she lifted a pinky finger to her lips and began nibbling on the nail. Blake wouldn’t say another word. She would leave Becky to form her own conclusions.
It wasn’t until her sister had gone to bed that Blake got the chance to have a private moment with her mother so they could talk about the cryptic telegram. “What kind of trouble?” she asked Rosie. “What’s Jerome up to now?”
Before Rosie spoke she gave a sigh heavy with frustration. “Your ex is at it again,” she said. “I guess it wasn’t bad enough that he swindled you out of your own business. Now he’s giving everybody in town the impression that the reason you left was because you’d been embezzling funds.”
Blake gasped. “Are you serious? He had the audacity to say something like that after he was the one dipping in the till?”
Rosie’s lips tightened and her brown eyes flashed in obvious anger. “He was interviewed by the local paper and I don’t know what got into him. He started spouting off about his vision for the company and next thing you know he’d started wailing about how much of a challenge it would be to achieve those goals seeing that his business partner had bailed out on him suddenly.”
Blake’s lips curled in disgust. “That snake. I can’t believe he would stoop so low. Stinking liar.”
“I know.” The heat had been creeping up Rosie’s neck as she told the tale and now her face was a furious pink. “And to think, after all you’ve done to build that business, he know turns around and uses you for a scapegoat when he’s the one to blame. He’s the thief.” Her voice was rising as she spoke.
Blake had to reach over and take her hand. “Watch your blood pressure, Mom. I don’t want you to get sick over this.”
“You should have reported him to the police like I told you,” Rosie continued as if she hadn’t heard a word Blake had just said. “The minute you realized he was siphoning money out of the partnership you should have let them lock him up.”
Blake gave Rosie’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I know, Mom. I could have and I should have. But, at the time it happened, how could I? Jerome was my fiancé. When I found out, I was just a week away from becoming his wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Before Blake left she’d given Ryder strict instructions. “If you run into any problems, go get Moonwalker,” she’d told him. She’d gone so far as to take him over to the man’s house where she’d done formal introductions and told Moonwalker that if Ryder burned the place down while she was away she was holding her old friend personally responsible. That meant Moonwalker would have to pass by and check on the place at least a couple of times a day. Ryder hadn’t been too happy with that arrangement, not being used to having someone supervise him, but he guessed he would have to get used to it. After all, he was the one who had agreed to being bossed.
In the end it turned out that Moonwalker was a huge help, showing him how to set up the new stove and helping him dismantle Old Blue. Moonwalker even carted off the parts, saying that they were bound to come in handy in his metal works and craft shop. Ryder didn’t mind. It was one less thing to worry about.
The first evening without Blake went smoothly and he was darned proud of himself. He’d been able to tend the bar and had even served sandwiches. There were only a few patrons that evening and he was glad. Word must have gotten out that Blake was away so most of her regulars, Ted included, did not show up.
By the second night the customers had dwindled to a measly three and, as stupid as it was, Ryder couldn’t help it that his ego took a blow from the rapid decline in business. It was a given that Blake was a whole lot easier on the eyes but was he such a turn-off that even the regulars refused to show up?
It was kind of depressing and by day three he felt even further down in the dumps. He was missing Blake like hell. All right, so he was being a downright fool for feeling that way but ever since he’d arrived in Pequoia it was Blake who had made the biggest impression on him. It was Blake, and only Blake, who made him feel he could actually live in a godforsaken place like this.
And now that she was gone he was totally out of sorts. It was no wonder then, that when Peggy Thatcher showed up that afternoon he felt h
appy to see her, even though he would be at risk of having her chat his ears off.
“Last week I was telling the ladies in my sewing circle about you,” she said. “They’re all dying to meet you. Throw some clothes on and I’ll take you over to Beth’s. We’re meeting at her house in half an hour.”
Ryder raised his eyebrows and then he frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Go put some clothes on,” Ms. Thatcher said, waving her hand at him. “There are only decent ladies in our group. How do you think it would look if I brought a man wearing nothing but a wife-beater?”
Apparently, she’d totally missed the point of his question. The day had been so hot that he’d been lounging on the bench by the side of the building, enjoying the shade cast there, wearing nothing but his jeans and undershirt. He hadn’t been expecting visitors so he hadn’t worried about dressing up. But that wasn’t the problem. If he’d heard her right it sounded like Ms. Thatcher was planning to drag him off to her sewing meeting. There was no way that was going to happen. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know a thing about sewing,” he began.
“Silly boy,” she said, cutting him off,“I’m not taking you there to sew anything. I’m just going to show you off.” Then she gave him a sly look and a smile. “It’s not every day I get the chance to make the girls jealous. Now, come on. Hurry up. I know you’re not doing a thing. I spread the word that Blake’s away and I told everybody to wait till further notice before they come over. I know Blake would want that.”
So that was it. Miss Busybody was the cause of the sudden disappearance of his customer base. Ms. Thatcher certainly had no qualms in meddling in other people’s business.
Ryder wasn’t in the mood to hang out with a bunch of ladies, especially if they were all chatterboxes like this one. She’d ignored his objection to going but he decided to try again. “I’m terrible at conversation,” he told her. “I’ll be the death of your party.”
“No such thing.” The woman shook her head vigorously. “You’re the talk of the town and I promised the girls you’d be there today. I wouldn’t think of letting them down.”
“You could have thought of asking me first.”
His dry comment was met with a wave of the hand. “I know you’re not trying to play shy with me. Now hurry up or else you’re going to make me late.” This was followed by an annoyed click of the tongue that told Ryder he might as well give up. The woman was determined that he should be today’s guest of honor. It looked like he’d be fighting a losing battle so he wouldn’t even bother to try.
After he was dressed to suit Peggy Thatcher’s standards Ryder climbed into the good lady’s Chevrolet sedan and played meek and humble, like a lamb to the slaughter. Sure, he could have insisted he wasn’t going but what the heck. It didn’t take anything off him to go through the trouble of humoring the lady. And, like she’d said, it wasn’t like there was anything going on at Beaumont’s, anyway.
Beth’s house ended up being pretty close by. It took Ms. Thatcher less than five minutes to get there. In fact, it looked like they were early. Hers was the only car in Beth’s driveway.
Ryder hopped out immediately and went around to the driver’s side to help the lady out.
“Thank you, young man.” She took his hand and pulled herself up and out of the seat. As she stood she stumbled and he had to grip both her arms to steady her. “You’re a strong one,” she said as she straightened up. “Nice and fit, which means you take care of yourself. I like that.”
Ryder raised his eyebrows but he didn’t bother to respond. He didn’t think he’d ever met a lady so quick to speak her mind. She would definitely take some getting used to.
As they headed for the front porch he gave her his arm and she smiled, seeming pleased with the attention, when another car pulled up just as they got to the steps. She turned but she did not let go of his arm.
The woman behind the wheel was sporting a wide yellow sun hat with a red flower in the band. The smile on her face was just as sunny as her headgear. “Woohoo, Peggy. Don’t lay claim to the goods before I get there.” With an agility that belied her age she threw the car door open and hopped out then hurried toward them, her high-heel sandals clicking on the flagstones with each step she took.
“Barbara Bonner, you just slow down before you hurt yourself in your haste to get to Ryder. Should I remind you that your son is older than he is?” The words were waspish but the grin on Ms. Thatcher’s face made it obvious that she was amused and more than a little pleased with her friend’s reaction.
“Oh, please,” Barbara said, brushing her off with a wave of her hand. “I can appreciate a handsome man when I see him, no matter what his age.”
Ms. Thatcher wrinkled her nose. “It’s not his age I’m worried about, it’s yours. Your blood pressure spikes so easily, with the way you’re carrying on you’re liable to have a stroke within the hour.”
Barbara ignored that comment and turned her attention to Ryder instead. “I’m Barbara,” she said, her soft cheeks glowing as she smiled up at him. “I’ve heard so much about you and I have to say it looks like it’s all true.”
That remark was cause for him to raise his eyebrows. “From Ms. Thatcher?” he asked as he took her hand.
“It’s Peggy,” the lady in question said. “Don’t start getting all formal with me.”
“Yes, from Peggy,” Barbara said. “She’s been raving about you, about how handsome you are. She wasn’t lying, that’s for sure.”
Ryder cleared his throat, embarrassed at the woman’s open admiration. “I’m pleased to meet you Ms. Bonner. Barbara.”
“Likewise.”
Now it was Peggy’s turn to clear her throat. She tugged on Ryder’s arm. “Let’s get on inside before Beth starts wondering what we’re doing, standing around on her front porch like this.”
When they got inside Ryder found that Beth wasn’t the only woman there. He was introduced to their hostess, a sweet white-haired lady, as well as to Sarah, Bridget and Martha. “My husband dropped us off and left with the car,” Sarah explained then shook her head. “There’s a baseball game on T.V.. He couldn’t get away fast enough.”
A few minutes later another woman arrived and then another until Ryder found himself surrounded by a bevy of ladies, all chattering excitedly around him.
“Who are your relations?” one of them asked him.
“When did you get here?” was the query from another.
“Are you going to stay?”
At that last query, Peggy sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her bosom. “He’s staying,” she said firmly, “if I have anything to do with it. He’s perfect for our Blake.”
And, as if they’d forgotten he was sitting right there among them, the women took off with a heated discussion on how they could guarantee his union with Blake.
Ryder didn’t say a word. He just kept his mouth shut and let them have their fun.
But when the topic of the conversation changed he knew he was in trouble, at least as far as these ladies’ plan was concerned.
“What kind of babies do you think they’ll have?” Beth asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Peggy declared. “All I know is, they'd better have lots of them.”
***
Blake was up early next morning, intent on dealing with her problem immediately. If Jerome Slater thought he could get away with slander he’d better think again.
When she walked into the kitchen her mother was already there. “Hi, Mom. Whatcha doin’?” She went over and gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Morning, honey. I guessed you’d be up early. I’m making you some warm cereal. Oatmeal.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Blake went over and flopped down on the closest chair then propped her elbows on the kitchen table. She watched as her mother turned back to the stove to stir the stuff she was preparing and it was when she found herself staring at the back of her mother’s head that she realized that a lot more gray
hairs had sprung up since the last time she’d seen her.
Life had never been easy for Rosie. A single mother for much of her adult life, Rosie had married Blake’s father after graduate school, just as she hit the quarter century mark. She’d been working three years as a business analyst in an accounting firm when she got pregnant, which would not have been a problem if she’d been in a happy marriage. As it was, she’d been contemplating asking her husband for a divorce when it happened.
Instead of giving new life to the marriage, with the pregnancy things deteriorated. Ernest Beaumont had always been a controlling husband, domineering and overly possessive. With the expected arrival of their child he became even more so, demanding that she give up her position at the accounting firm.
After much resistance she finally gave in, quit her job and dedicated herself to preparing for the arrival of their first child. She figured she could always enter the workforce again, once the baby entered a daycare program. As she’d told Blake many years later, she’d thought that was the perfect plan. Ernest shot it down cold, telling her that once she became a mother he expected her to remain at home to care for their child.
It was the last straw. The divorce came through before Blake was even born and when Ernest refused to support their child Rosie didn’t even bother to take him to court. He made no effort to be a part of his daughter’s life even though Rosie emailed him photos of each of Blake’s little milestones – her first tooth, her graduation from nursery school, her first day at kindergarten. No amount of arguing or pleading would make the man bend his rigid stance. He was divorced from Rosie and anything…or anyone…to do with her.
Because Ernest’s parents had both passed away the only contact Rosie had with his family was a great uncle who still lived in the remote community of Pequoia. Desperate to maintain even one small link with Blake’s Beaumont roots, Rosie took to sending occasional photos to this great uncle and he seemed to take great pleasure from them because he always wrote back and thanked her.
