Last night, he’d hinted in a change in their relationship this weekend. The anticipation of whatever that meant had kept her on edge and achy between her legs all the way to Minnesota.
“I still can’t get over the video you showed me of when I was in the cellar.” Greg brought her thoughts back to the present. She’d debated whether to bring it out, since it had been the reason for their breakup, but was happy with her decision. “It definitely didn’t feel like Gram at the time. I know you’re going to think I’m still hung up on the whole Jesse James treasure thing, but if I had to place a bet, I’d say it was him.”
He hadn’t shared that with her as they’d watched the video. She turned toward him. “What makes you think that?”
He shrugged. “Nothing specific. Just a gut instinct.”
Tillie smiled. “Well, the image of the apparition was too blurry for me to even know if it was man or woman. But I wouldn’t mind it being Jesse.”
He squeezed her hand. “How do you feel having so many ghosts hanging around?”
“If they don’t bother me or scare away my guests, they belong there as much as I do. A house as old as that one is bound to have picked up lingering spirits along the way. I hope they aren’t stuck there, though. Your grandmother, for instance. She deserves a happy afterlife.”
“Agreed.” He drove on a few more miles and said, “Should make it to my place soon. Let’s stop at the grocery to pick up whatever we might need for the next few days, but I’d like to go out for an early dinner before places close rather than have you slaving away on Christmas Eve.”
“Sounds good.” She’d be content with a bowl of popcorn in front of the fire, to be honest.
“I’ll be picking up Derek later tonight.” They had the cargo area filled with wrapped gifts. She’d enjoyed shopping with Greg this week, especially when she needed to escape the house when the memories of that terrifying night bombarded her out of the blue. “Tomorrow, I thought we could go down to Minnehaha Falls in the afternoon as part of our Christmas Day celebration. It’ll be cold but, if the sun comes out, well worth it.”
She couldn’t wait to see the falls. No doubt, they were solid ice now given how frigid the temperatures were at their last stop to refuel.
After they stopped at the grocery, he drove about five more minutes and parked in the drive of a Queen Anne Victorian overlooking a large frozen lake.
“What a gorgeous house! I can’t wait to see the inside.” Of course, he would live in a historic house, given his love of classic architecture.
“Thanks. It was my obsession during that first year after Nancy asked me to move out of our old place. I figured I’d renovate this one and flip it when we got back together, but…” He squeezed her hand. “Sorry. Why don’t we unload the car?” They both exited at the same time, and he pointed behind them with his thumb. “That’s the Lake of the Isles, which is famous for being in the opening credits of The Mary Tyler Moore Show.”
“No way! I’ve been watching reruns of that show recently on cable.”
“The house they used in the first couple seasons for where she lived is just down the street. I’ll point it out to you. Happens to be for sale if you have a few million dollars to spare.”
“Oh, I’m not that big a fan. More a sentimental one. It was one of my mother’s favorites.”
She was grateful Greg didn’t ask to talk about her. Tillie had made peace with her mother long ago, although the sadness still hurt her heart. At least Tillie had a few good memories of her.
He carried her suitcase up the walkway to the porch and opened the door, waving her inside. “Why don’t we warm you up with something hot first while I get the fire started?”
“Sounds heavenly! Point me to the kitchen, and I’ll start a pot of coffee. I think we’re going to be up late tonight.”
He showed her where everything was and how the coffeepot worked before returning to the living room. The white batten-board cupboards with glass doors gave the kitchen an old-fashioned charm. His appliances were stainless, but the countertops were stained wood. An interesting mix of old and new, not unlike the man who owned this place.
When he entered the kitchen again, she was filling the two mugs. “Perfect timing.”
Before picking up his, he tugged her into his arms, and she looked up at him. “Meet me under the mistletoe?”
“I’m not sure where that is.” She grinned, her heart not requiring anything to drive the need for a kiss with him.
He pulled a sprig out of his pocket and held it over their heads. “I picked up some in the gas station before we hit the freeway.”
“My, you think of everything,” she said with a breathy whisper.
“A throwback to my Boy Scout days.” He leaned down and captured her lips.
When they separated after he’d stripped the sprig of every last berry, they carried their coffee into the living room, and she gravitated to standing in front of the fire. “It’s real wood!”
“Like you, I want the smell of real wood in a fireplace.”
“A man after my own heart.” They sat on the sofa and stared at the flames while sipping their coffee for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m in Minnesota. We’ve been so busy at the inn this past week I’ve hardly had time to breathe.”
Greg set his mug on the end table and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned her head against his chest. “I’m glad you came home with me, Tillie.”
Being with him soothed her soul. This house had a calming effect on her, too. She hadn’t thought any other house would achieve that, but maybe it didn’t matter where they were as long as they were together.
She couldn’t shake the feeling she had Mrs. Foster to thank for moving Heaven and Earth to reunite them as adults. While here, she hoped to have a chance to read Mrs. Foster’s journals, which would be like having another visit with her dear friend. Well, as close as she would get to being with Mrs. Foster again.
But, in this moment, she wanted to focus completely on the man seated next to her.
* * *
Greg took her shopping for winter gear at the Mall of America where they ate supper. Good thing he knew his way around, or she’d have wandered aimlessly for days in the monstrously big mall without finding a single thing.
“We’ll have our Christmas in the morning and focus on Derek’s tonight.”
“Sounds perfect.” She’d managed to pick up some fun and educational things for him locally and online. She couldn’t wait for Derek to open them.
“When are you picking him up?”
“About seven. I thought I’d take him for a ride to see the lights before he gets here and sees the ones I put up in the yard.”
“He’s going to love them. I can’t wait to see him again.”
“Why don’t you come with me to pick him up?”
She wasn’t sure she was ready to meet his ex-wife. Although if she and Greg continued to date, she supposed she would have to eventually. “Um, I was thinking I’d bake some cookies for you while you’re gone. Then I can spend more time with you and Derek.”
“If I didn’t know how much you’d enjoy making them, I’d insist that you stay out of the kitchen. But Derek and I would love some of your homemade cookies.” He smiled and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
Before he left to pick up his son, they quickly set up the small tree they’d purchased with its minimal decorations. None of the decorations held any memories, but it gave them a place to display the presents they’d bought and wrapped before leaving Kentucky.
Making her way to the kitchen, she spent a good twenty minutes searching for things. Spices were hidden in the cabinet next to the sink. Measuring cups across the room near the fridge. And cookie sheets? On top of the microwave, of course. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? Perhaps if she’d been taller, she’d have spotted them immediately.
Clearly, the man’s kitchen wasn’t set up for efficiency. Regardless, she was wrist-deep in cookie dough when the front door open
ed.
“Miss Tillie!” Derek came barreling through the house calling her name.
“In the kitchen!”
She glanced up from the tray of oatmeal cookies and wiped her hands clean before opening her arms to receive the lovable projectile.
“Derek, it’s so good to see you again! How’ve you been?”
“Good, but I have a new boo-boo on my knee.”
“Oh dear! Do you need me to give it a kiss to make it all better?”
“Silly, you can’t even see it with my pants on.”
“Kisses are magic. Point me to the correct knee, and my kiss will power right through the denim.”
The boy crawled onto one of the kitchen chairs and presented his knee, which she promptly kissed. “All better now!”
“That’s cool! Just like magic!” He hopped down and returned to his daddy’s side. “Did you see the Grinch outside, Miss Tillie? He was stealing Daddy’s lights!”
“No way!” she said, her eyes wide in shock.
“I told him, ‘Oh no you don’t, Mr. Grinch!’”
“Well, good for you!”
Greg had worked on the light display for almost two hours. While not elaborate given his time constraints, next year, she imagined there would be thousands more lights on the house and in the yard.
Greg came over to her and wrapped his arm around her waist before bending to place a kiss on her cheek. “Mmm. You smell good. Like vanilla.”
Tillie smiled, not intending to give away her secret.
“I getta kiss Miss Tillie, too!” Tillie laughed as she bent down to present her other cheek to the younger Buchanan, feeling loved by them both.
“Daddy told me he had a tree. Look what I brought for it.” Derek reached into his coat pocket and ceremoniously pulled out something wrapped in a paper towel.
She wasn’t sure what it was until he’d started unwrapping it, and she caught a glimpse of the hat. “The toy soldier!” She blinked away the ridiculous tears at seeing the beloved ornament again. “Let’s go put him on the tree.” She placed two trays of cookies in the oven and set the timer before the three went into the living room.
Derek chose the perfect spot for the ornament.
The evening flew by as Derek opened his gifts and the three of them played games, built a Spiderman set with Legos, and munched on cookies until after ten o’clock.
Greg looked at his watch. “Whoa, son! I’d better get you home before Santa skips your house tonight!”
“I’m not yawning.”
“Derek, you know Santa won’t come if you’re awake,” she reminded him. “Tonight of all nights, you’ll want to be in bed before midnight.”
He weighed Tillie’s words a moment before hurriedly rounding up his things. Tillie rode along to Nancy’s, despite her nerves. She lived on a street filled with decorated houses. Derek must love it here. “The Grinch didn’t steal the lights on my street, Miss Tillie!”
“It’s almost Christmas,” she said. “I don’t think he’ll be stealing any more lights tonight.”
“I had fun playing the hippo game, Miss Tillie.” He yawned.
Tillie blinked away more unexpected tears and faced toward her window. “So did I, sweetie. Maybe I’ll beat you next time!” He’d changed the rules on them with every game so that he always came out on top. Clever boy.
Greg reached across the front seat to squeeze her hand. “You okay?”
She turned toward him with a smile and nodded. “Just being sentimental. Holidays do that to me.” He stroked her cheek before glancing in the rear-view mirror. Indicating the rear seat with his thumb, he smiled. “He’s already out.”
Being together with Greg and Derek made her wistful for something she’d never had—a family of her own.
Santa, maybe you can put one under the tree for me tomorrow.
But in reality only one family would do. And they lived seven hundred miles away from the place she already called home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tillie awakened the next morning to some wonderful, thoughtful gifts from Greg—including one box containing Mrs. Foster’s journals. She met his gaze over the box while sitting with her knees bent and legs tucked to her side. Joy lit her eyes. “I could never accept these. I’d love to read each and every one, but let’s consider this a loan.”
“No, I insist they go home with you. They belong back in her house, and I know you’ll take excellent care of them.”
She opened one of the leather-bound journals. Ironically hitting on a Christmas Day entry from 1941. Wow, that was just a few weeks after the attack on Pearl Harbor.
Elmer and I enlisted today—he in the Army and me in the WACs. We can’t be sure when we will see each other again if we’re separated, which we most surely will be. But with our beloved country under attack, how can I not help by serving with our brave boys in uniform?
Tillie glanced in Greg’s direction again. “I may not come up for air for months.”
“They really are compelling reading.”
“It will be like history coming to life before my eyes.”
She skimmed a few pages until he prompted, “That’s not all I have for you, but the rest aren’t under the tree.”
She tore her gaze away and grinned. “Sorry to get so absorbed and ignore you. I have gifts for you, too. Nothing as grand as these, though.” She reached onto the cloth-covered tree table and picked up the rectangular box for Greg. “Here’s something for you to open.”
“It’s heavy.” He tore the wrapping paper off with abandon. “Smells like bourbon.” When he reached the shoebox and opened the lid, even she could smell it. “One of your fruitcakes!” She wouldn’t have given him one if he hadn’t tried it along with her guests last week and loved it, saying it wasn’t like any other he’d ever tried.
“It will last a year or more if you keep it wrapped and in a dark place.”
“Believe me, it won’t last that long, although I’m going to weigh about three-hundred pounds by the time I finish it. Maybe we can have some tonight with our hot toddies.”
Kneeling so she could reach the boxes she’d stashed toward the back of the tree table, she pulled them out and tried to decide which he should open first. Selecting the smaller of the two, she handed him the one with the first-edition book she’d found on an online auction site.
“Open this next.”
“Now what can this be?”
She nearly bounced with excitement as he tore off the paper and opened it. “Be careful. It’s fragile.”
“Now you tell me.” More gently, he took the tissue wrapped book out and glanced at the face of it.
“Frank and Jesse James?” He met her gaze. “This book’s ancient. It must have cost a fortune.”
She waved away his concern. “Not as much as you’d think. But it is a first edition 1880 copy of The Life and Adventures of Frank and Jesse James. I guess Frank got top billing in those days.” She smiled as he focused his attention on the book. “It was published two years before Jesse’s murder.”
Almost reverently, he opened the cover to the title page and read silently. The pages had frayed at the edges, but the text hadn’t faded a bit, unlike the gilding on the cover.
Smiling, he leaned over and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you. I’m going to enjoy reading this cover to cover and cherish it forever.”
She loved his spontaneous kisses and had missed snuggling with him in bed. He’d given her a long speech about respecting her boundaries and not wanting her guests to think badly of her, so he’d slept on a cot in the office that first weekend together. But he had yet to return to her bed, as much as she wanted to invite him there.
When he’d given her the option of sleeping with him here or in his guest room, though, she’d chosen the latter. While the drive up had only amplified how much she wanted his touch and his lovemaking, seeing how far apart they lived and knowing they weren’t going to be together very often only led to worrying about those long stretches
of separation in between visits. If things didn’t work out, it would kill her.
She blinked rapidly at the tears welling in her eyes, thankful his attention was on the story of the James Gang. Turn the page. She probably should have put the tickets before the title page rather than after. Finally, he went to the next page and lifted out the printout.
“Two tickets to the Maker’s Mark tour,” he read, meeting her gaze. “Their family has a connection to your inn, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “Jesse James’s stepfather was a cousin to the man who owned my house at one time, another country doctor, in fact, like your grandfather. Having trusted family in the area is probably why Jesse hid out there.” She wouldn’t go into the history of the T.W. Samuels family distillery or that a descendant had founded the distillery with the famous wax-coated caps in the neighboring county. “I want to take you on the tour because they have on display the gun Frank James surrendered to lawmen at the Samuels general store down the road from my house.”
He smiled at her again. “You’ve outdone yourself with the perfect gifts, Tillie. I can see you put a lot of thought into them.”
“I had so much fun shopping for them.” She pointed to the box of Mrs. Foster’s journals. “But these aren’t exactly chopped liver, you know. I’m going to dive into them later today, for sure. And I can’t wait for our trip to Minnehaha Falls this afternoon. Thank you in advance.”
He smiled enigmatically. “I’m looking forward to that, too.” When he began to collect his gifts, she stopped him.
“Wait. I’m not finished giving you your presents yet.” She picked up the long box and handed it to him. This next one would probably make her cry even harder.
* * *
Greg felt a little overwhelmed at the incredible gifts she’d made or found for him. He almost hated postponing his big gift until later, but it would be so much more special then.
Jesse's Hideout (Bluegrass Spirits 1) Page 31
