Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  Focusing on plating the order and not burning herself on the hot grill, Abbie had made it through without thinking even once about what was going on at the booth with Jamie and his family.

  A plate in each hand, she could hear the excitement in the teens’ voices. Heads together, they looked ready to conquer the world. “Here you go, boys.”

  Pulling apart and leaning back to allow room for the burgers, the kid with the new knife gripped it tightly in his hand, still yacking with his friend as though he held a butter knife and not a weapon that could gut an animal twice his size.

  Sliding a plate in front of each kid, Abbie kept her gaze on the boys’ faces as they lifted the buns and smothered the meat in ketchup. “Anything else?” she asked.

  “Nope,” one of the boys mumbled, grabbing his burger with both hands.

  In a rapid movement, the other kid sliced his burger and, waving the ketchup covered hunting knife under her nose, turned to Abbie with a huge smile.

  Any effort at avoiding the knife failed. Muffled words sounded in her ears. The overhead light caught the glimmering metal and flashed in her eyes. More muted sounds hummed in her ears. The boy continued to wave the blade covered in red back and forth like a hypnotic metronome.

  “Abbie.” Loud and strong, her name penetrated the haze. “Is something wrong?”

  Blinking, she lifted her gaze to the startled kid. “You okay, Miss Abbie?”

  “Abbie.” Lower, softer, her name sounded again. This time accompanied by a gentle grip on her arms. “Abbie?”

  Jamie stood beside her looking as worried as the kid at the table.

  “Put that thing away.” DJ had followed Jamie to her side. Adam and Chase were a step or two behind. It took the kid a long moment to realize DJ meant his new knife.

  Out of sight, out of mind. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and searched for something to say. “Sorry, guys. It’s been a long day.”

  The two teens shrugged. The kid with the knife held out his glass. “Could I have another drink, please?”

  DJ stared at her, watching silently.

  Jamie cast a quick glance to his cousins, first DJ, then Adam.

  “One cola coming up.” She spun about and spotted the Farraday men watching her the way they might keep an eye on a rattler about to strike. “I’m fine. Too much on my mind.”

  She turned away, quickly poured the kid a fresh drink, then hurried to the ladies room to regroup before everyone decided she’d lost her mind. Though for a few seconds there, maybe she had.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Still no news?" Abbie reached for the BLT on whole wheat.

  Jamie shook his head.

  “I thought for sure you’d have heard something by now.”

  For the last two days he'd been on pins and needles waiting for more news from the town Council. The only thing they’d concluded the other night after meeting in private with Grace and the mayor was that they needed more time. He always considered himself a patient man, but right now time was not his friend and patience was fading fast. His family had invested a boatload of money in the building. A building that would be virtually useless if the town didn't issue them a liquor license. After all, what good was a pub that didn’t serve beer at least?

  "As a good friend of mine once said, don’t look so lost. It will be fine.”

  Throwing his own words back at him actually made Jamie smile. Sundays were the only day the café closed early, and Jamie intended to use some of his free time to sort through the loft. He might not be able to start construction, but cleaning out the storage area was better than twiddling his thumbs.

  A few more minutes and Abbie came back through the doors, setting a stack of dishes down. "This is it. Looks like were done for the day."

  Jamie spied the clock over the doorway. "Closing early?"

  "It happens. Once the Sunday afternoon slow down hits, that's it. Sunday is family day, and that's perfectly fine with me."

  Family day. As far as Jamie knew, Abbie didn't have family in Tuckers Bluff. Thinking about it a minute, he realized he had no idea if she had family anywhere. Today completed the first full week working with her, and other than she had a lovely smile and an amazing work ethic, he knew little more about her now than he did seven days ago. "Got any plans for your afternoon?"

  Abbie grinned from ear to ear. "A very hot date with a tall drink, the last ray of light, and a paint brush."

  “Paint brush? Do you need help painting the house?”

  That sweet smile that made him want to smile back bloomed. “Not that kind of paint. I like to paint pictures. Mostly oils, occasionally water colors but those are harder for me. I find it relaxing.”

  He could certainly understand anything that gave her a chance to relax, but somehow it seemed wrong for her to spend her only day off alone. "I'm heading over to the building to start cleaning out the loft. Don't suppose you'd like to help?"

  "Loft?"

  "Well, it's more of an attic actually."

  "Right. The place Frank had been snooping around before he fell."

  Jamie winced. He’d sort of forgotten that part. "Sorry about that." He’d probably said that to her a dozen times a day for the first few days he worked here. "According to Frank there's some really cool stuff up there. Today will be the first chance I get to see for myself."

  To his relief, her eyes twinkled with interest. "Frank did mention that he suspected some of the stuff up there could be well over 100 years old."

  "I asked old man Thompson about it."

  "And?"

  "He groused that junk had been up there for as long as he'd run the feed store but didn't seem to know or care how it got there in the first place."

  Abbie shook her head. "There's no understanding some people. I'm still amazed that old goat actually sold you the place."

  "You and me both. When I found out how much more Crocker offered him to not kill the deal, I was flabbergasted that he turned them down cold."

  "Well," Abbie shrugged, "I suppose deep down there’s some good and loyal side to Jake Thompson."

  Jamie smothered a smile. "Or he hates sushi."

  Her brown eyes twinkling, Abbie laughed outright. "There is that."

  "So, you curious?"

  "Won't Aunt Eileen be upset that you're not at Sunday supper?"

  Jamie shook his head. "Nope. Sunday supper is at Meg and Adam’s later today. There's plenty of time to scour the attic."

  "In that case, I think the Texas bluebonnets can wait a little longer."

  "The what?"

  "I like flowers.” Abbie turned on her heel and pushed at the kitchen doors. "I'll be back to help you clean up in just a bit."

  Flowers. He’d have to remember that. Something told him there weren’t enough fresh blooms in her life. The door swung shut and Jamie took a minute to consider his temporary boss. The other night when she'd zoned out serving those kids hamburgers had been the first time he'd ever seen her anything less than totally in control. Even his first day on the job when she’d had to run in often to check on him, she never displayed any sign of frayed nerves. If DJ hadn't spoken with her privately and then assured Jamie that she was just fine, he might've shut the place down for the night whether she liked it or not. Had he seen even the slightest sign of something amiss the last couple of days he'd have pushed for more, but it was as though he’d imagined the whole thing.

  Whatever was going on inside that pretty little head of hers, there was one thing he was definitely sure of. Abbie Kane was one helluva woman, and much like the attic in his old building, everything about her made him eager to uncover what more lay hidden behind her steadfast demeanor and wrinkle free uniform.

  ****

  "Good grief. You weren't kidding." Hands on her hips, as far back as Abbie could see the place was piled high with boxes and miscellaneous goods.

  "I know there's a light here somewhere because Frank had it on the other day when we were talking." Jamie maneuvered around
her, using the flashlight feature on his phone to find the light pull.

  The old-fashioned chain made a familiar sound as Jamie yanked on it, brightening the crowded room.

  "Wow." The place was a Mecca for antique enthusiasts. She could easily see Eastridge tables, Victorian settees, tables and chairs. Dark mahogany popular in the nineteenth century was everywhere. "Look at that."

  Jamie chuckled. "Care to get a little more specific?"

  "Those trunks." Lined along the left wall, Abbie counted at least two massive steamer trunks suitable for long ocean voyages and three or four smaller trunks. The kind people used nowadays for coffee tables or decoration. "I wonder if they’re locked."

  "I don't know, but hold on a minute." Jamie stepped to one side. "If you want to look at that first, we’re going to have to make a path."

  "No. Wait. Makes more sense to start here at the front and work our way back."

  "That's a plan I can get on board with." He looked left then pointed to his right. "Why don't we begin in this corner over here? The boxes are cardboard and more recent than some of the others. Maybe it's just junk we can toss to make room for the other things."

  Abbie nodded. "Works for me."

  As predicted, the first box opened held outdated paperwork including fifty-year-old accounting ledgers from the Thompson feed store.

  Flipping the pages, Abbie looked to Jamie. "How long did Thompson own this place?"

  “I’m pretty sure he inherited the feed store from his dad. I have no idea how many generations before him ran it."

  "At least one, according to this. Should we ask Chase if he wants them?"

  "Good idea. I'll shoot him a text. We can set them aside for now."

  The next few boxes were more paperwork. Some ledgers, some receipts, bills of sale and other notes. All for the Thompson Feed Store, and all old as dirt. Several open boxes were now stacked behind them when Jamie's cell phone beeped.

  Taking a few seconds to read the text, he slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Chase said to pull out a few samples for nostalgia, but we can recycle or donate what's left."

  Abbie scanned the neat pile of old boxes. “Do you think the library would like some of these records?"

  “No idea, but I vote to take these boxes over another day and let Miss Marion decide."

  Pushing to her feet, Abbie chuckled softly. "I still can't believe Tuckers Bluff actually has a librarian named Marion." She leaned over to pick up one of the boxes.

  Jamie moved beside her. "What do you think you're doing?"

  "Taking these downstairs to get them out of our way."

  "Oh no you don't."

  “What do you mean no?"

  "I mean, I already lost you one cook, I am not losing your head waitress too. I'll take the boxes downstairs."

  Abbie hugged the box closer to her. "And what if I lose you, then I’ll be out a cook again."

  Hands on the box Abbie refused to let go of, Jamie frowned at her. "It looks like we have a stalemate."

  Without releasing her grip, she shifted her weight. "So what do you suggest?"

  "I suppose we could just toss the boxes down the stairs."

  Abbie rolled her eyes. "Great. Then we can have twice as much of a mess to clean up."

  "Okay. What if we line all the boxes along the edge of the stairway, I go down with the first box, then you can meet me halfway and pass the rest off?"

  She realized quickly what he wanted was to be at the bottom of the stairs to either catch her or break her fall. Such a Farraday thing to do. Chivalry was alive and well in West Texas and downright overflowing among the Farradays. "Deal."

  With almost a dozen boxes sorted and out of the way, they had more room to reposition and organize.

  "Looks like that's the last of the cardboard boxes. These over here are wood." Jamie pointed to some smaller crates. "There's a crowbar downstairs. I'll be right back."

  Abbie nodded and worked her way around the front crates to the first trunk within reach. Delighted to find it unlocked, she blew some dust off the top and lifted the lid. "Oh my."

  Crowbar in hand, Jamie climbed off the last step. "What did you find?"

  “A little of this, a little of that." Gently sifting through the contents, she decided this had been someone's family trunk. Keepsakes of a lifetime. Hand crocheted baby booties. Infant christening gown. Handmade quilt. Perhaps a favorite party dress. A hand carved train engine worn right about where a playful little boy’s hands would have held the toy fascinated her. "Do you think these belonged to the Thompson family?"

  Jamie squatted beside her. "I doubt old Jake would know. And I hate to say it, but I don't think he’d care either." He fingered the christening gown she laid neatly across the top.

  “You like babies?” She hadn’t expected him to look so…interested.

  A small hand carved rattle to one side caught his eye. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Not really.”

  Eyes wide with surprise met hers. “You don’t like babies?”

  “I love them. Just saying not everyone does.”

  “No,” he leaned back. “We wouldn’t need protective services if they did.”

  Abbie studied him a long moment, wondering if watching all his cousins and siblings married and many starting families was making him feel left behind. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  “If the town council smartens up and the pub becomes a reality, Tuckers Bluff is a good place to raise a family.”

  “I think so.”

  “You ever picture yourself with a family? Kids?”

  “Not for a long time.”

  “Why not?” His brows buckled with concern.

  Abbie shrugged. For a split second she considered truthfully answering the question, but she couldn’t bring herself to share the fears that had once ruled her life for too long. Gently closing the lid, she turned her attention to the crates a few feet away. "We’ve still got a lot to do here. Might as well go back to opening the ones closest to the front."

  An uncomfortable long moment passed as Jamie studied her too intently before nodding. With little effort, he was able to pop the lid off the first wooden container and removed the top layer of straw packing.

  "Ooh," Abbie squealed. "Pictures.”

  Jamie stood over her shoulder as she dusted off photograph after framed photograph, handing them to him.

  “Hey, isn't this Adam's clinic?" Abbie held up a frame for Jamie to see.

  "Yep. Back when it was a homestead. I'll have to give this one to Adam. I'm sure he'll want to hang it in his office."

  "Or maybe the waiting room so the whole town can enjoy it."

  Jamie nodded.

  "And here's the feed store.” She handed it off to Jamie.

  “Looks like this place had been in the family for a lot longer than old Jake thought.” Jamie held the picture of an older man in front of the Thompson Feed Store, a younger version of himself at one side, and a small boy at the other.

  “Maybe Chase would like it?”

  “I’m sure he would.” Jamie set the picture in the box of paperwork for Chase.

  Reaching the bottom of the crate, Abbie lifted two of the last framed pictures. “Oh my.”

  “What?” Jamie leaned over.

  “I didn’t realize colored photography was available so long ago. Someone was one hell of a photographer.” She held up one of the pictures. “This must be the Grand Canyon. Look at all those colors. Even faded, it’s like a velvet blanket of yellow and blue.”

  “Actually,” he reached for the photo, “I think this is Big Bend.”

  “You’ve been?”

  He nodded and handed her back the picture. “Amazing place.”

  “This would make a beautiful painting.”

  “Would you like it?”

  “Would I?” She glanced up from the frame in her hand to see him grinning at her. “What?”

  “Your whole face lights up a room when you’re really happy.”

&
nbsp; She could feel the heat reaching her cheeks. “These are lovely. Thank you.”

  “So are you.”

  Time and space seemed to come to a silent halt. Abbie had noticed long ago that Jamie had the captivating Farraday smile and twinkling light eyes, but not till this very second had she felt the heat of his gaze as strongly as though someone had wrapped her in an electric blanket. She didn't dare so much as blink an eye for fear of losing the connection. Unable to think, she couldn’t begin to guess just how long had it been since she had felt so perfectly warm and safe. Safe with another Farraday, only this one made her feel warm and fussy in ways the other Farradays never had, and didn’t that spell Trouble with a capital T.

  ****

  Though mostly working in silence, Jamie didn’t want his time alone with Abbie—well alone with her and over a hundred years of ghosts and history—to end. Even if it meant being surrounded by a house full of relatives, he had only one possible idea to keep today from ending early. “It’s almost time to head to Adam and Meg’s for supper.”

  “Oh my.” Abbie glanced at her wrist. One of the few people Jamie knew of who still wore a watch. “I didn’t realize we’d been up here so long.”

  "And we've barely made a dent." He hadn’t anticipated what a chore going back in time would be.

  Straightening her back, Abbie slowly scanned the still untouched items in the long forgotten storage area. "I'd like to come back."

  Just the words he’d wanted to hear. "I'd like the help."

  The corners of her mouth lifted in a soft smile before she scooted across the dirty floor to fumble with the lock of another trunk. "Last one before you have to leave.”

  “About that.” He shifted to sit beside her. “Thought you could join us for dinner.”

  “Oh, I look as worn out and dirty as some of these pieces.”

  “Ditto, but Aunt Eileen won’t care. No one will.” He brushed her hand already fidgeting with the lock of another trunk. “Please.”

  She hesitated just long enough for him to hope she’d give in, but fear she’d stand firm in her refusal. When she bobbed her head in agreement he let go of her hand and stopped himself before lifting his in a winning fist pump.