by Pamela Tracy
Carol, Michelle, and Lynn were all about eating dinner at four, home by six, and in bed by eight. Except on Sunday and Wednesday when they had church. They loved their routine. They loved Shirley, too, and every once in a while, Lynn would go fetch her to join their early morning cookie, coffee, and sewing gathering at Craft Away the Day.
In the evenings, Amy often drove out to Shirley's home. She loved the Pecan Ranch. It represented the complete opposite of how she'd been raised. Shirley was the third generation owner of the one hundred and sixty-eight acre ranch. Unfortunately, the pecan trees were woefully neglected since the boys weren't interested in taking over the ranch that had been custom-built to last with all the extras that spelled home. It had a backyard garden, a porch swing, and even—
"Down!" Carol said.
Amy glanced over and saw that Butterscotch had somehow gotten into Carol's yarn. He had part of it in his mouth, part of it wrapped around his neck, and was happily playing no-give with Carol as she tried to untangle him. Michelle and Lynn merely shook their heads, pulled their sewing closer to them and away from Butterscotch, and laughed.
Carol's balance wasn't the best, and the folding chair tilted sideways a little farther than Amy was comfortable with. She hurried over with a, "let me help." Just as she got to Carol, the buzzer indicating someone at the door sounded, a customer walked in, and Butterscotch broke free of the yarn and beelined for freedom.
"Hey," a male voice said.
Amy was too busy repositioning Carol's chair before it tipped to pay any attention. The person at the door struggled to block the dog, who—judging by the barks and yelps—thought it all great fun. Amy could hear the chaos but hadn't quite gotten Carol settled. Behind her, the dog skidded on the flooring as he careened her way. Probably heading for the storeroom where she kept his food and water.
He didn't make the turn. Instead, he head-butted a tall bookcase housing skeins of Red Heart yarn, toppled the whole thing, and then dashed under a For You and Your Baby display.
"Oh, no, you don't," came the male's voice.
"Dog's usually not that excitable," Carol commented as together, Amy, Michelle, and Lynn finally righted her chair. "He's missing Shirley."
Under the For You and Your Baby display, Butterscotch lay down, put his nose on his paws, and closed his eyes.
"Oh," Amy scolded, "don't act all innocent now."
"A little help here, please."
Amy turned to see Daniel Starr grinning and holding the bookcase of Red Heart yarn, keeping it from hitting the floor and possibly breaking. He had a firm hold until the bottom shelf came apart and ruined his moment of heroism.
The dog whimpered something that didn't quite sound like an apology.
#
"I came to pick up the dog." Daniel eyed Butterscotch while Amy untangled some errant strings of yarn that seemed intent on keeping him here. After a moment, he decided that he liked yarn, especially yarn that had Miss Amy Benjamin standing so close to him, smelling like chocolate chip cookies and possessing a gentle touch. The bookcase leaned against the wall, its two bottom shelves broken with pieces bent at such impossible angles, they couldn't be simply hammered back into place. The yarn it had harbored was scattered throughout the area along with the few books and displays that Amy'd had on the shelves.
She'd taken the disarray fairly well, helping him to lean the bookcase to the side and then putting things to rights.
He'd never been in a yarn store before. From baby blankets to sweaters to what looked like purses, Craft Away the Day was a wealth of colors and feminine scents of cinnamon, flowers, and something else he couldn't quite identify. Amy, who stood just under his chin, smelled a bit like chocolate.
"You taking Butterscotch home or to the hospital?" Amy asked.
She was so close, he could have easily encased her in his arms. He could get used to a woman who smelled like chocolate and looked like Amy Benjamin.
"Home," Carol answered. She stood and walked over to pull Daniel down and give him a kiss on the cheek. "They won't let dogs in the hospital."
"Gramma's worried about him," Daniel said. "My suggestion was that Butterscotch stay with you awhile longer."
"Oh?" All the knitters stopped and looked at him, waiting.
"A broken ankle at her age is nothing to mess with," Daniel said. "The doctor wanted her to go to a nursing home, but I promised to take care of both Butterscotch and her."
"You up to the task?" Michelle asked.
"Can't be any harder than riding a bull."
Amy shook her head. "You ride the bull for eight seconds. Caring for Shirley will be twenty-four/seven."
"It'll be fine. I've got it."
"Anything else we should know?" Carol asked.
"Gramma's going to be in a wheelchair for a while. She's hinting that she won't need it as long as the doctor suggested. I'm hoping you ladies will convince her to be patient. It's not her strong suit."
He watched as they murmured agreement among themselves.
"Maybe you should leave Butterscotch with me," Amy said.
"Believe me, I wanted to, but Gramma thinks Peppermint might be lonely."
"Cats don't care," Michelle said. "They're good with or without companionship."
Carol huffed. "That's not true. My cat hates to be alone."
Before Daniel could add to the conversation, his phone buzzed. He stepped out the front door, answered, and turned his back to the store. After assuring his twin brother that all was well, he returned to the ladies.
"Shirley might be lonely about now," Amy pointed out. "It's not even noon. If you're not there to cook for her…"
Before he could defend himself—Gramma had all but kicked him out—Carol spoke up. "Burt Vanderly is there."
Amy raised an eye. Seemed the little lady who liked to boss him around didn't know everything.
Of course, neither did he. "Burt's here?" Daniel asked. "I thought he was moving to Florida."
Lynn, who was probably the oldest of the three knitters, motioned Daniel over and provided her cheek. He'd mowed her lawn when he'd been a preteen, and she'd always been generous. She'd paid him fifteen dollars, insisting that two dollars go to God, two go to college, and he could spend the rest however he wanted. Sometimes, he credited her for his interest in finance.
She handed him a homemade cookie. "Amy made these. They're better than your grandma's, but don't tell her. And, Burt did move to Florida, but he didn't like it. Said all the pecan pies tasted like maple syrup in a pie crust and that the women weren't as pretty."
"He always had a thing for Shirley, but Hank was his best friend," Carol said.
"Burt does not have a thing for Gramma." Daniel bit into the cookie and realized Lynn was right—not that he'd ever tell Gramma. The cookie might very well be the best he'd ever tasted. It almost took his mind off Burt and Gramma.
He waved his half-eaten cookie at Carol. "They've just been friends forever."
"Friends." Carol's tone implied more than her word.
"He always liked her singing," Michelle said. "Said she sometimes was the voice that carried the tune in Hosanna."
Carol smiled. "She could hit the high notes. Burt always admired that."
"We may be old," Lynn said, "but we're not dead."
Butterscotch headed for the door and barked twice, clearly announcing he was ready to leave. Daniel wasn't sure he wanted to.
"How long are you back?" Carol asked.
"As long as I'm needed," Daniel said.
Lynn gave a slow nod. "Could be awhile."
All four women looked at him. Three of them were smiling expectantly. Miss Amy Benjamin was the exception. She frowned as if expecting something less.
"I'm here for the next couple of weeks if not longer. Then, we'll see what Gramma wants me to do."
"Just make sure you know the difference between what she wants you to do and what she needs you to do," Amy said softly.
She sure was a prickly thing. Someone, somew
here, must have rained on her parade, and now it appeared she didn't have much faith in mankind.
"I'll take care of my grandma," Daniel said. "Don't you worry." He grabbed another cookie, nodded to the Nutty Knitters, patted his leg, and whistled for Butterscotch, who obeyed perfectly.
Amy followed him to the door. "You might want to use her car to pick her up. She'd have a hard time getting in and out of your truck."
He turned around. "You always worry?"
"Just when there's something to worry about."
"Must keep you busy." He hesitated a moment, looked back at the knitters, and then asked her, "You made the cookies I just ate?"
"Yes."
"And," he said, putting two and two together, "you made the cookies left on the kitchen table at my grandmother's. Because I gotta say, the cookie I just ate compared to the cookies you left..."
He'd already thought Amy Benjamin pretty, but when her cheeks went pink, he realized pretty didn't begin to describe her.
"I was annoyed at you but wanted to be welcoming."
He laughed, and she closed the door behind him with a little flounce he wouldn't mind seeing again. Butterscotch whimpered a bit, as if trying to decide if he wanted to stay with Amy or go with Daniel.
"Gramma needs you," Daniel told the dog, leading him down the street. Before he could start the truck, his cell phone pinged, and he checked the number. Local.
"Hey," Burt said after Daniel answered. "The doctor was just here, and they're letting Shirley go home. There's more paperwork to fill out, because hospitals love paperwork. Can you be back here by two to talk with the doctor?"
"I'll be back." Thinking about Amy's words, he added, "I'll drive Gramma's car. She'll have an easier time getting in and out."
"Good thinking."
Checking his watch, Daniel grimaced. He'd spent way too much time in Craft Away the Day. Now he needed to head to the store and drop off Gramma's prescription as well as stock the refrigerator. Then, he needed to get to Pecan Ranch and make sure nothing would cause Gramma to stumble. He'd even change her bedding and do a couple of things to make her more comfortable. It was the least he could do, and—contrary to what Amy Benjamin thought—he wasn't helpless.
The Pecan Produce Store looked the same, a perfect square, light brown building, with one long window in front. Jax Moore owned it now. She, like her father, would list specials on the door using shoe polish. Today, if Daniel wanted, he could get three loaves of bread for the price of two. If he were doing the cooking for the next week or two, he'd need easy things like a thin cut of ham, hot dogs, hamburger, and lots of soup.
He tried to hurry up and down the aisles, but Tuesday must be head-to-the-store day for half of Pecan, and everyone wanted to know how Daniel was doing, how proud they were he'd come back, about Dusty and the rodeo, if they'd heard from their little brother Luke, and most of all how Shirley was. By the time he got back to the truck, he needed to give Butterscotch a potty break, and then he had to stop at the four-way intersection because Pecan, Texas, was experiencing a rush hour. Three cars were ahead of him. He recognized the blonde behind the wheel of the Ford in front of him.
Brittney was in town?
Great.
He'd taken a lot of ribbing when she'd gotten married. His friends, thanks to Facebook and Twitter, all teased him for letting his high school sweetheart find someone else. Find someone else? Hah, he'd introduced her to her husband, Mike Yarborough. On purpose. They were perfect together.
Daniel had never found perfect.
Except for the cookie he'd eaten a few minutes ago.
Right now, though, all he wanted to do was take care of his grandma and figure out his future. Instead, with Brittney here, there'd be some small town drama, meaning he'd be the center of attention he didn't want.
And, if he were honest, what he did want was to get to know Miss Amy Benjamin a little more without the whole town watching.
Chapter Four
Wednesday morning, while Gramma slept, Daniel ambled around the house noting all the details he'd missed during his previous dash-in-and-dash-out visits. The living room couch no longer provided a cushion for whoever sat on it. Not that Butterscotch seemed to mind. The poodle had claimed one side, and when he wasn't at Gramma's feet, that's where he stayed with his favorite towel for company. Daniel figured that surviving the three Starr brothers had been too much for the couch. Funny that it hadn't given out until after they'd left. The flooring and brown braid rug looked okay. The curtains still appeared good.
The bathroom could use some serious updating. The linoleum might be older than his grandma. The family room was quiet and dusty. Peppermint snoozed on one of the end tables. The animals hadn't been allowed on the furniture when Grandpa was alive.
Of the downstairs, the kitchen needed the most work. The walls were faded yellow, his grandma's favorite color, and the appliances an old-time green. The refrigerator's hum sounded like an amp gone bad on a Dwight Yoakam tour.
Gramma didn't even have a microwave?
Funny, he remembered her having one. A large, box-like thing that took triple the time to cook. He even remembered where it had been. Now, cereal boxes—ten different types—huddled in the corner where the microwave used to be.
Mentally, he kicked himself. Amy Benjamin was right to be annoyed at him. He'd been gone too long. And the few times he'd been back, he'd been so busy thinking about seeing his hometown friends and about where he and his brother would be headed next that he hadn't really taken a good look.
He'd figured Gramma's house—and Gramma—would always be here.
Not a sensible stance. He already knew how quickly things could change on the home front. He paused, looking at the kitchen table where he'd sat many a day eating, doing homework, playing games, or making plans. His initials DMS—Daniel Martin Starr—were carved on one of the legs. He'd blamed Dusty for it—Dusty Michael Starr. They'd both gotten in trouble, and Grandpa had marched them out to the work shed, and for the next two months, they'd made a table from scratch. They'd learned to use a table saw, how to dry-fit the pieces together, and how to stain. When they completed it, it was slightly uneven on top, and one table leg was fatter on the bottom than the others. Gramma loved it.
Daniel spent the next month making two benches for it while Dusty was busy with his 4-H Beef Club. In the end, Gramma put the new table in the formal dining room and had Dusty and Luke carve their initials on two of the other legs on the kitchen table. Grampa's initials HHS—Hank Hammond Starr—were on the fourth leg.
Heading out to the work shed, Daniel figured he'd bring those long ago carpentry skills back into practice fixing the bannister.
#
Amy was keeping count. It had been over a week since Daniel had picked up Butterscotch, a week since she'd been out to Pecan Ranch for a quilting lesson, a week since she'd been able to see for herself how Shirley was doing. Every evening, she called. During the first few nights, Shirley had spoken a little about what she was doing—"stupid stretching exercises"—and a lot about all Daniel was doing around the house, fixing the bannister, then a broken toilet lever, plus a leaky pipe, and best of all, he'd recently unjammed the garbage disposal and replaced a light switch. Shirley wasn't as excited about the shower bench and grab bars he'd installed in her shower.
"He's acting like I'm old," she complained.
"He's acting like he loves you," Amy tossed back.
Eventually conversation about home repairs took a back seat to information on how Dusty was doing in the circuit. Shirley gushed about a gold belt buckle Dusty had earned last year and that he was on track for a second one.
He was sending home money to help with medical bills and repairs.
Amy wondered how Daniel felt about being the brother walking away from the rodeo. He'd been doing well up until he'd come home. Amy knew bull riders. They were a unique breed. Giving up the arena, even temporarily, was like giving up chocolate—not done unless there was no other choice.
Amy'd dated a bull rider back when she was seventeen. At first it had been exciting. She'd loved the rodeo events, the excitement, and the rush of him placing. Then, he'd lost a finger when a bull threw him, then stepped down hard on his hand. Brett, all of nineteen, had climbed back on a different bull the next day. And Amy had gone back to her waitressing job and refused to come to the rodeo any more. Two weeks later, he'd stopped asking her.
Two weeks and one day later, he'd stopped calling.
Amy closed her eyes, picturing Daniel Starr, him of the rugged good looks and charming smile. She could envision him lying on the hard ground, hurt, and not listening when someone he loved said, "There's got to be an easier way."
Amy now had a feeling Daniel might pause before saying, "Nope, this is where I belong. This is what I'm doing."
Because Daniel Starr had come when Shirley needed him and was doing so much more than just playing at being a caregiver. Maybe, just maybe, the cowboy understood a bit about love. Didn't matter, though. Amy was much too busy to think about it. Or him.
She had a business to run. A few goals to make. If she could just get Craft Away the Day back to running in the black—like when her Aunt Abigail had been alive—then Amy could think about pursuing her own dream: opening a bakery.
First she had to make the craft store a success.
Last night Shirley asked when Amy was coming over to sew.
Amy couldn't win. On one hand, she needed help learning how to quilt well enough to give advice and sell product, plus she missed Shirley. On the other hand, she wouldn't— couldn't—go over to Shirley's until Daniel was gone. The fact that she couldn't stop thinking about him made her uncomfortable. It didn't make sense. She'd only met the man twice!
The Nutty Knitters didn't help. They had enough Starr brothers' stories to last a lifetime it seemed, and no matter how much Amy protested or pretended not to care, they shared one after another.
