Surprise Inheritance

by Charlotte Douglas

  If she searched her soul, she’d have to admit that her desire to see Luke had been the motivating factor behind her visit to Montana. She’d hoped to lay his ghost to rest, prayed that meeting him in the flesh after all these years would verify her love for him as merely a teenage crush that she could then forget, making her free to love again.

  Wrong.

  If anything, seeing Luke again had rekindled the embers into flames, ones she seemed helpless to extinguish. Jennifer rolled onto her stomach and tugged a pillow over her head. If her car engine wasn’t acting weird, she’d load her luggage as soon as the storm ended, sign Hank Durham’s papers in Pine Run and keep heading south, all the way to Arizona.

  Heading south.

  She grimaced at the ironic phrase. That was the direction her life had taken ever since she first left Jester.

  She flipped onto her back with a sigh. She could run, but she couldn’t hide. Her love for Luke hadn’t been a girlish fling. It had been the real thing, lying dormant all these years, waiting to blossom back to life. Only problem was, Luke McNeil couldn’t seem to stand the sight of her.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she rolled off the bed and faced herself in the mirror over the bureau. She no longer had Luke’s love, but she certainly had her pride. If she turned tail and ran after her first meeting with him, folks in Jester would put two and two together and come up with twenty. She had no desire to make her personal life fodder for town gossip by acting like an idiot. No, she’d have to tough it out, if only so she could face herself in the mirror without feeling like a coward.

  After sluicing her face with water in the adjoining bathroom, she dragged a brush through her hair, added a touch of gloss to her lips and surveyed her clothes. Jeans, fisherman’s sweater and boots would do for dinner at Vickie’s, and especially for the trek through the snow to get there. A glance at her watch revealed the time was five o’clock, giving her almost two hours to kill before she was due at the Perkinses.

  When Jennifer had returned to the boardinghouse from Vickie’s earlier, she’d gone straight to the kitchen to inform Gwen she wouldn’t be having supper with the other boarders. She’d found her hostess busy with meal preparations in the spacious room of the big Victorian house.

  “Coming in here is like stepping back in time,” Jennifer had said, smiling at her old friend.

  During her vacations in Jester, she and Vickie had often visited with Gwen, who was Vickie’s age, and Gwen’s grandmother in this big, sunny kitchen, where the girls were usually treated to some delicacy, fresh and hot from the oven. Lacy molasses cookies, fragrant gingerbread, sticky buns or chewy brownies heavy with walnuts had been heaped on their plates, and frosty glasses of lemonade provided to wash them down. With its high ceilings, old-fashioned cabinets and farmhouse sink, the room brought back memories of long summer afternoons and culinary delights. It also stirred a poignant homesickness for her own grandmother that made Jennifer’s heart ache.

  At her voice, Gwen glanced up from the ramekins in which she was assembling what appeared to be chicken pot pies. Flour from a nearby pastry board dusted a strand of her dark auburn hair, and her green eyes flashed a cheerful hello before she bent again to her task.

  “I’ve tried to keep the room like Grandmother had it,” Gwen said, “but after the lottery, I decided to use some of my money to modernize.”

  “The improvements blend in well,” Jennifer observed. “New six-burner cooktop, double oven, refrigerator in brushed stainless steel…and the old linoleum’s gone.”

  “Pergo,” Gwen said with a nod toward the floor. “Great stuff, especially when there’s a mess to clean up. Is there something you need?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “My room’s perfect.”

  “Good. I aim to please.”

  “Just wanted you to know I won’t be here for supper. Vickie’s invited me over at seven for a meal and to meet Nathan and the kids.”

  Gwen swiped at a stray lock of hair with the back of her hand. “You’ll love Nathan. He’s a great doctor. If you’re ill, he makes you feel better just by being in the same room with him. And he’s a wonderful family man, as dependable as the rising sun. And the kids are adorable. You’ll want to steal them and take them home.”

  “Wherever that is,” Jennifer murmured to her self.

  Gwen squinted, eyeing her closely. “You feeling okay?”

  Wondering if her heartache over Luke was visible, Jennifer resisted the urge to squirm. “Just tired after driving all night. I’m going up now to nap until it’s time to head over to Vickie’s.”

  “We’re on an early schedule tonight. If the storm clears, Oggie Lewis has a meeting of the executive council of the PTA at the school.”

  “Mr. Lewis, the vice principal? I didn’t know he lived here.”

  Gwen nodded. “He’s a sweetheart. Treats me like his daughter, since he has no family of his own. We’ll gather in the dining room for a glass of wine at five. Dinner’s at five-thirty. Join us if you’re awake by then. Have some wine or a cup of coffee. We’re a lively group.”

  “Thanks.” Jennifer started to leave, then turned back. “Gwen?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You, too, Jenny. It’s been too long.”

  Remembering their conversation later, Jennifer felt the warmth of friendship. Gwen Tanner hadn’t asked questions or berated her for not coming back while her grandfather was alive. She’d given Jennifer a warm, unconditional welcome to the boardinghouse and made her feel like one of the family. Joining the others for a before-dinner drink suddenly seemed like a good idea.

  Jennifer left her room and descended the staircase with its highly polished banister. A slightly built man in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, met her in the entry hall. “You must be Jennifer.”

  “And you’re Mr. Lewis.”

  Although she’d never attended the school where he was vice principal, Jennifer recalled seeing the man around town. Her friends in Jester had always regarded him with a mixture of affection and respect. Today, instead of the business suit he’d usually worn, he was dressed in slacks, a crisp white shirt and tie, and a faded navy-blue cardigan with suede patches on the elbows.

  “Call me Oggie,” he said with a gentle smile, “otherwise the ladies here will think I’m being snooty. Stella’s already in the dining room. Will you join us?”

  With old-fashioned gallantry, he offered his arm, and Jennifer tucked her hand beneath his elbow. “I won’t be having dinner—”

  “You’re dining at the Perkinses.”

  She suppressed a smile. Apparently Tanner’s Boardinghouse had its own set of jungle drums where news traveled fast.

  The front door rattled, and Irene Caldwell entered, buffeted by the wind. Benny, her Welsh Corgi, who’d apparently been watching from a parlor window, bounded in with all the energy of a puppy in spite of his twelve years, yapping happily at his owner’s return. Irene scooped him up in her arms and hugged him, then set him at her feet.

  “Don’t know why Amanda insisted on keeping the bookstore open,” the older woman said as she shed her coat and muffler. “Seldom has any business, even in good weather.”

  “Give her time,” Oggie said consolingly. “It takes a while to build up a clientele. Meanwhile, it’s good of you to help her out occasionally.”

  “Mostly I just keep her company. And it keeps me out of trouble,” Irene said with a mischievous grin, stripping off her gloves and rubbing her hands together. “A glass of wine will hit the spot this afternoon. Get my blood circulating again. My feet are frozen.”

  The trio headed into the dining room, with Benny trotting at Irene’s heels.

  “Did you get back all right with your books?” Irene asked Jennifer. “That was quite a run-in you had with the law, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

  Luke’s scowling image flashed into Jennifer’s mind. She forced the disturbing picture away. “The books are fine. Amanda wiped the sno
w off them, and I’m looking forward to reading them later to night. I appreciate your help in selecting them.”

  Irene and Oggie moved into the dining room, but Jennifer paused on the threshold in admiration.

  A huge mahogany dining table with a matching sideboard and china cabinet filled with classic Blue Willow dishes dominated the space, whose walls, like the rest of the house, were painted a soothing eggshell tint. A colorful Oriental rug in muted colors covered the gleaming hardwood floors, and a brass chandelier, probably the original gaslights converted to electricity, hung centered over the table, giving the room a cheerful glow in the early evening gloom.

  A petite and slightly pudgy platinum blonde, dressed in a long denim skirt, white turtleneck sweater and fringed leather vest, stood at the side board, wine decanter in hand.

  “I’m bartender tonight,” she announced with a bubbly voice and a pleasing expression.

  “Stella Montgomery,” Oggie said, “let me introduce—”

  “Don’t be so stodgy, Oggie,” Stella said with a friendly look and a softness in her voice that contradicted the reprimand. “Of course I know who this is. I remember Jennifer when she was knee-high to a grasshopper.”

  “Good to see you again, Miss Montgomery,” Jennifer said.

  “It’s Stella, child. We aren’t formal around here. Now, who wants a tipple?” She turned back to the sideboard, filled long-stemmed glasses with white wine and passed one to each boarder.

  Gwen pushed her way through the swinging door from the kitchen, bearing a large tray from which emanated a mouthwatering aroma.

  “Oh, my.” Oggie licked his lips and placed his free hand over his heart like a lovesick boy. “Are those what I think they are?”

  Gwen nodded. “Your favorite. Mushrooms and onions in puff pastry. Why don’t you all have a seat? You can think of this as a first course.”

  Jennifer held back until the others had taken what she assumed were their regular places, then slipped into an empty chair. Although the sky had darkened outside and frost rimmed the windows, the dining room was snug and bright, reminding Jennifer of Gramma Dolly’s kitchen on a winter’s day. Slowly the pleasant atmosphere and crisp wine relaxed some of the tension still knotted inside her from her encounter with Luke.

  Gwen handed the tray of hors d’oeuvres to Stella, but declined a glass of wine. After returning to the kitchen to retrieve a cup of tea, she sat at the head of the table.

  Irene took the tray, inhaled with gusto and a longing look, but passed the delicacies immediately to Jennifer. “None for me. I love them, but they give me nightmares. My digestion isn’t what it used to be.”

  Curled at her feet, Benny woofed with disappointment.

  “Don’t worry, boy,” Irene assured the dog, “you’ll get a taste. In spite of my protestations to the contrary, everyone in the house slips you tidbits under the table.”

  “Try some,” Gwen encouraged Jennifer. “It’s hours before you’ll eat again.”

  Gwen didn’t have to twist her arm. Jennifer selected two of the smaller pastries.

  Oggie took the tray from Jennifer and happily filled his plate. “Won’t force you, Irene. That just leaves more for me.”

  Stella took a delicate bite of pastry and a sip of wine, then glanced around the table with a look that suggested she was extremely pleased with herself. “You’ll never guess what juicy tidbit I learned while I was out today.”

  Irene raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes. “I thought Jennifer and I were the only ones crazy enough to go out in this weather.”

  Stella patted her short, curly hair. “You know I never miss my weekly wash and set at the Crowning Glory, no matter what.”

  “It’s very becoming, Stella.” Oggie stopped consuming mushroom puffs long enough to offer the compliment with sincerity.

  “Thank you, Oggie, dear.” She leaned over and patted the man’s hand, and Jennifer could have sworn he blushed.

  “Anyway,” Stella continued with a glow of triumph over her late-breaking gossip, “we’re going to have an addition to the population of Jester.”

  With a muffled cry, Gwen dropped her cup of herbal tea into her saucer, shattering both.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JENNIFER JUMPED at the crash of shattering china, then grabbed a linen napkin and leaped to sop tea from the tablecloth. But Gwen, who had suddenly gone pale, waved her away.

  “You all right, dear?” Irene asked with concern. “You look a bit green around the gills.”

  “I’m fine. Don’t make a fuss. Just had a muscle spasm. Must have spent too much time this afternoon rolling out dough.”

  Gwen hurriedly gathered up the broken china, but Jennifer could tell her friend’s hands were shaking, and her excuse had seemed forced. She wondered what had upset their usually unflappable hostess, who disappeared into the kitchen with the shattered cup and saucer. Her boarders exchanged curious and worried glances, but none questioned Gwen’s explanation.

  Not out loud, at least.

  When Gwen returned an instant later with a fresh cup of tea, Jennifer wondered if she’d only imagined her friend’s pallor and discomfort, because she seemed her usual self again.

  “What do you mean, a population increase?”

  Oggie asked Stella, picking up the thread of conversation. His face brightened, and he threw Jennifer a questioning look. “Have you decided to move here permanently?”

  “Not much chance of that,” she said ardently, remembering Luke’s coolness. She could withstand the cold of the Montana winters, but his permafrost attitude had frozen too deep for comfort.

  “Your staying would be very good news,” Stella admitted with enthusiasm, “but this particular addition to our town is a baby.”

  Jennifer was watching Gwen, whose complexion appeared to blanche again, but this time she didn’t drop anything. With a deadly calm voice, their hostess asked, “Who’s expecting?”

  Was Gwen jealous?

  Jennifer had received the impression that Gwen was happy running the boardinghouse, but maybe there was more to the story. She wondered if her friend’s strange reaction to a new baby in town was a sign of discontent. Did Gwen secretly long for a husband and children rather than her family of boarders?

  Stella paused a dramatic moment before answering Gwen’s query. “Shelly O’Rourke’s expecting.”

  A collective intake of breaths and expressions of approval greeted her announcement.

  “That’s wonderful!” Irene clapped her hands together.

  “Good for Shelly and Connor,” Oggie stated. “They’ll make wonderful parents.”

  “I’m happy for them,” Gwen said simply, but Jennifer could tell her friend’s emotions were mixed, and again wondered why.

  “Vickie Perkins wrote me that Shelly had married,” Jennifer admitted, “but she didn’t give me many details, other than the fact that Shelly’s husband is a pediatrician in Nathan’s clinic.”

  Stella immediately launched into a lively story of how Shelly Dupree and Connor O’Rourke had been drawn together over their concern for an infant someone had abandoned in the Brimming Cup, Shelly’s diner. Although the others had obviously heard the story before, they appeared to enjoy Stella’s lively recap, especially Oggie, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the vivacious raconteur.

  With the wine working its way through her bloodstream, the warmth of the room and her companionable acceptance by the other boarders, Jennifer experienced a fresh sense of coming home. She’d been too lonely the past ten years, living by herself without family.

  “Now,” Stella announced, wrapping up her story, “with the abandoned baby happily back with its mother, Shelly and Connor are married and expecting a precious bundle of their own.”

  “So, Jennifer,” Gwen said a mite too casually in changing the subject, “tell us what you’ve been doing since you left Jester.”

  Jennifer shrugged. “Nothing exciting. I’ve had several jobs, starting as a receptionist with a publishing house in
New York. I had worked my way up to an administrative assistant, but I must still be searching for the right niche, because since then I’ve had jobs in Detroit, Minneapolis, Philadelphia and Chicago, and haven’t put down roots yet.”

  “You should put them down here,” Stella said emphatically. “There should always be Faulkners at Cottonwood Farm. Have been for generations.”

  “Absolutely,” Irene agreed.

  Silence filled the air for a moment, as if the room’s occupants were remembering those Faulkners who had gone before.

  Gwen’s voice broke the quiet. “I was sorry to hear about your parents, Jenny.”

  The boarders murmured soothing words of consolation and sympathy over the deaths of Jennifer’s parents, who had perished three years ago in a plane crash in Italy.

  “Thank you,” Jennifer said, touched by their condolences.

  She missed her parents, but they had never been the presence in her life her grandparents had been. The only times Jennifer had spent with her mother and father had been when they picked her up at school to take her to the airport. Or met her at the airport to return her to school after vacations and holidays she’d spent in Jester. She remembered them as kind but distant strangers, always too distracted by their friends, parties and travels to pay much attention to a lonely little girl.

  Irene set down her wineglass and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “I heard a bit of news myself today.”

  “Good news, I hope,” Oggie said. “After the pavilion collapse yesterday, we could use some good news.”

  Irene’s expression grew thoughtful. “I guess you could call it good news, although, if it’s true, we may be about to lose one of Jester’s most eligible bachelors.”

  “Now you really have my interest,” Stella said. “You can’t be talking about the vet, Jack Hartman. We all saw him propose to Melinda last night, so that’s not news.”

  “Not Jack,” Irene said. “Luke McNeil.”

  Jennifer struggled to keep her hand steady as she placed her glass on the table. No wonder Luke had seemed so cool. Nothing like having his ex fiancée show up just when he’d proposed to another woman.