“Nicole?”
Nicole realized Annie was staring at her. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts.”
“It’s time for a break.” Annie led the way into the back room. Once inside, she reached for the coffeepot and gestured toward one of two overstuffed chairs. “Sit down and relax. If Louise needs any help, she can call us.”
Nicole didn’t have to be asked twice. She’d been waiting for a chance to learn more about Cal, and she couldn’t think of a better source than Annie Porter.
Annie handed her a coffee in a ceramic mug, and Nicole added a teaspoon of sugar, letting it slowly dissolve as she stirred. “How do you know Cal?” she asked, deciding this was the best place to start.
“His wife. You haven’t met Jane, have you?”
Nicole shook her head. “Not yet,” she said as though she was eager to make the other woman’s acquaintance.
“We’ve been friends nearly our entire lives. Jane’s the reason I moved to Promise.”
Nicole took a cookie and nibbled daintily. “Cal said he has two children.”
“Yes.”
The perfect little family, a boy and a girl. Except that wifey seemed to be staying away far too long. If the marriage was as wonderful as everyone suggested, she would’ve expected Cal’s wife to be home by now.
“This separation has been hard on them,” Annie was saying.
“They’re separated?” Nicole asked, trying to sound sympathetic.
She was forced to squelch a surge of hope when Annie explained, “Oh, no! Not that way. Just by distance. Jane’s father has been ill.”
“Yes, Cal mentioned that she was in California with her family.” Nicole nodded earnestly. “She’s a doctor, right?” She’d picked up that information without much difficulty at all. The people of Promise loved their Dr. Jane.
“A very capable one,” Annie replied. “And the fact that she’s with her parents seems to reassure them both.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’s a big help.”
“I talked to her mom the other day, who’s so glad she’s there. I talked to Jane, too—I wanted to tell her about the baby and find out about her dad. She’s looking forward to getting home.”
“I know I’d want to be with my husband,” Nicole said, thinking if she was married to Cal, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave him for a day, let alone weeks at a time.
“The problem is, her father’s not doing well,” Annie said, then sipped her coffee. She, too, reached for a cookie.
“That’s too bad.”
Annie sighed. “I’m not sure how soon Jane will be able to come home.” She shook her head. “Cal seems at loose ends without his family.”
“Poor guy probably doesn’t know what to do with himself.” Nicole would love to show him, but she’d wait for the right moment.
“Do you like children?” Annie asked her.
“Very much. I hope to have a family one day.” Nicole knew her employer was pregnant, so she said what she figured Annie would want to hear. In reality, she herself didn’t plan to have children. Nicole was well aware that, unlike Annie, she wouldn’t make a good mother. If she was lucky enough to find a man who suited her, she’d make damn sure he didn’t have any time on his hands to think about kids—or to be lured away by another woman.
“I understand you’re seeing Brian Longstreet,” Annie murmured.
“We had dinner the other night.” The night she’d run into Cal. It was to Brian’s disadvantage that she’d met him directly afterward, when Cal was all she could think about.
“Do you like him?”
Nicole shrugged. “Brian’s okay.”
“A little on the dull side?”
“A little.” She’d already decided not to date the manager of the grocery store again. He was engaging enough and not unattractive, but he lacked the presence she was looking for. The strength of character. His biggest fault, Nicole readily admitted, was that he wasn’t Cal Patterson.
“What about Lane Moser?”
Nicole had dated him the first week she’d returned. She’d known him from her days at the bank. “Too old,” she muttered. She didn’t mind a few years’ difference, but Lane was eighteen years her senior and divorced. “I’m picky,” she joked.
“You have a right to be.”
“I never seem to fall for the guys who happen to be available. I don’t know what my problem is,” Nicole said, and even as she spoke she recognized this for a bald-faced lie. Her problem was easily defined. She fell for married men because of the challenge, the chase, the contest. Single guys stumbled all over themselves to make an impression, whereas with married men, she was the one who had to lure them, had to work to attract their attention.
Over the years she’d gotten smart, and this time it wouldn’t be the wife who won. It would be her.
“Don’t give up,” Annie said, breaking into her thoughts.
“Give up?”
“On finding the right man. He’s out there. I was divorced when I met Lucas and I had no intention of ever marrying again. It’s too easy to let negative experiences sour your perspective. Don’t let that happen to you.”
“I won’t,” Nicole promised, and struggled to hide a smile. “I’m sure there’s someone out there for me—only he doesn’t know it yet.” But Cal would find out soon enough.
“We’d better get back,” Annie said, glancing at her watch.
Nicole set aside her mug and stood. Cal had been on his own for nearly two weeks now, if her calculations were correct. A man could get lonely after that much time without a woman.
He hadn’t let her pay for his meal at the Mexican restaurant. Maybe she could come up with another way to demonstrate just how grateful she was for the job reference he’d provided.
* * *
“How long’s Jane going to be away?” Glen asked Cal as they drove along the fence line. The bed of the pickup was filled with posts and wire and tools; they’d been examining their fencing, and doing necessary repairs all afternoon.
Cal didn’t want to think about his wife or about their strained telephone conversations of the last few nights. Yesterday he’d hung up depressed and anxious when Jane told him she wouldn’t be home as soon as she’d hoped. Apparently Harry Dickinson’s broken hip had triggered a number of other medical concerns. Just when it seemed his hip was healing nicely, the doctors had discovered a spot on his lung, and in the weeks since, the spot had grown. All at once, the big C loomed over Jane’s father. Cancer.
“I don’t know when she’ll be back,” Cal muttered, preferring not to discuss the subject with his brother. Cal blamed himself for their uncomfortable conversations. He’d tried to be helpful, reassuring, but hadn’t been able to prevent his disappointment from surfacing. He’d expected her home any day, and now it seemed she was going to be delayed yet again.
“Are you thinking of flying to California yourself?” his brother asked.
“No.” Cal’s response was flat.
“Why not?”
“I don’t see that it’d do any good.” He believed that her parents had become emotionally dependent on her, as though it was within Jane’s power to take their problems away. She loved her parents and he knew she felt torn between their needs and his. And here he was, putting more pressure on her....
He didn’t mean to add to her troubles, but he had.
“Do you think I’m an irrational jerk?”
“Yes,” Glen said bluntly, “so what’s your point?”
That made Cal smile. Leave it to his younger brother to say what he needed to hear. “You’d be a lot more sympathetic if it was your wife.”
“Probably,” Glen agreed.
Normally Cal kept his affairs to himself, but he wasn’t sure about the current situation. After Jane had hung up, he’d battled the urge to call her back, settle matters. The
y hadn’t fought, not really, but they were dissatisfied with each other. Cal understood how Jane felt, understood her intense desire to support her parents, guide them through this difficult time. But she wasn’t an only child—she had a brother living nearby—and even if she had been, her uncle was a doctor, too. The Dickinsons didn’t need to rely so heavily on Jane, in Cal’s opinion—and he’d made that opinion all too clear.
“What would you do?” he asked his brother.
Glen met his look and shrugged. “Getting tired of your own cooking, are you?”
“It’s more than that.” Cal had hoped Jane would force her brother to take on some of the responsibility.
She hadn’t.
Cal and Glen reached the top of the ridge that overlooked the ranch house. “Whose car is that?” Glen asked.
“Where?”
“Parked by the barn.”
Cal squinted and shook his head. “Don’t have a clue.”
“We’d better find out, don’t you think?”
Cal steered the pickup toward the house. As they neared the property, Cal recognized Nicole Nelson lounging on his porch. Her again? He groaned inwardly. Their meeting at the Mexican Lindo had been innocent enough, but he didn’t want her mentioning it to his brother. Glen was sure to say something to Ellie, and his sister-in-law would inevitably have a few questions and would probably discuss it with Dovie, and... God only knew where this would all end.
“It’s Nicole Nelson,” Cal said in a low voice.
“The girl from the rodeo?”
“You met her before,” he told his brother.
“I did?” Glen sounded doubtful. “When? She doesn’t look like someone I’d forget that easily.”
“It was a few years ago,” Cal said as they approached the house. “She was Jennifer Healy’s roommate. She looked different then. Younger.”
He parked the truck, then climbed out of the cab.
“Hi,” Nicole called, stepping down off the porch. “I was afraid I’d missed you.”
“Hi,” Cal returned gruffly, wanting her to know he was uncomfortable with her showing up at the ranch like this. “You remember my brother, Glen, don’t you?”
“Hello, Glen.”
Nicole sparkled with flirtatious warmth and friendliness, and it was hard not to react.
“Nicole.” Glen touched the rim of his hat. “Good to see you again.”
“I brought you dinner,” Nicole told Cal as she strolled casually back to her car. She seemed relaxed and nonchalant. The way she acted, anyone might assume she made a habit of stopping by unannounced.
Glen glanced at him and raised his eyebrows. He didn’t need to say a word; Cal knew exactly what he was thinking.
“After everything you’ve done for me, it was the least I could do,” Nicole said. “I really am grateful.”
“For what?” Glen looked sharply at Cal, then Nicole.
Nicole opened the passenger door and straightened. “Cal was kind enough to give me a job recommendation for Tumbleweed Books.”
“Annie phoned and asked if I knew her,” Cal muttered under his breath, minimizing his role.
“I hope you like taco casserole,” Nicole said, holding a glass dish with both hands. “I figured something Mexican would be a good bet, since you seem to enjoy it.”
“How’d she know that?” Glen asked, glaring at his brother.
“We met at the Mexican Lindo a few nights ago,” Cal supplied, figuring the news was better coming from him than Nicole.
“You did, did you?” Glen said, his eyes filled with meaning.
“I tried to buy his dinner,” Nicole explained, “but Cal wouldn’t let me.”
Cal suspected his brother had misread the situation. “We didn’t have dinner together if that’s what you’re thinking,” he snapped. He was furious with Glen, as well as Nicole, for putting him in such an awkward position.
Holding the casserole, Nicole headed toward the house.
“I can take it from here,” Cal said.
“Oh, it’s no problem. I’ll put it in the oven for you and get everything started so all you need to do is serve yourself.”
She made it sound so reasonable. Unsure how to stop her, Cal stood in the doorway, arms loose at his sides. Dammit, he felt like a fool.
“There’s plenty if Glen would like to stay for dinner,” Nicole added, smiling at Cal’s brother over her shoulder.
“No, thanks,” Glen said pointedly, “I’ve got a wife and family to go home to.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Nicole said, her expression sympathetic. “Cal’s wife and children are away, so he has to fend for himself.”
“I don’t need anyone cooking meals for me,” Cal said, wanting to set her straight. This hadn’t been his idea. Bad enough that Nicole had brought him dinner; even worse that she’d arrived when his brother was there to witness it.
“Of course you don’t,” Nicole murmured. “This is just my way of thanking you for welcoming me home to Promise.”
“Are you actually going to let her do this?” Glen asked, following him onto the porch.
Cal hung back. “Dovie brought me dinner recently,” he said, defending himself. “Savannah, too.”
“That’s a little different, don’t you think?”
“No!” he said. “Nicole’s just doing something thoughtful, the same as Dovie and Savannah.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m not going to stand out here and argue with you,” Cal muttered, especially since he agreed with his brother and this entire setup made him uncomfortable. If she’d asked his preference, Cal would have told Nicole to forget it. He was perfectly capable of preparing his own meals, even if he had little interest in doing so. He missed Jane’s dinners—but it was more than the food.
Cal was lonely. He’d lived by himself for several years and now he’d learned, somewhat to his dismay, that he no longer liked it. At first it’d been the little things he’d missed most—conversation over dinner, saying good-night to his children, sitting quietly with Jane in the evenings. Lately, though, it was everything.
“I’ll be leaving,” Glen said coldly, letting Cal know once again that he didn’t approve of Nicole’s being there.
“I’ll give you a call later,” Cal shouted as Glen got into his truck.
“What for?”
His brother could be mighty dense at times. “Never mind,” Cal said, and stepped into the house.
Nicole was in the kitchen, bustling about, making herself at home. He found he resented that. “I’ve got the oven preheating to 350 degrees,” she said, facing him.
He stood stiffly in the doorway, anxious to send her on her way.
“As soon as the oven’s ready, bake the casserole for thirty minutes.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Oh, I nearly forgot.”
She hurried toward him and it took Cal an instant to realize she wanted out the door. He moved aside, but not quickly enough to avoid having her brush against him. The scent of her perfume reminded him of something Jane might wear. Roses, he guessed. Cal experienced a pang of longing. Not for Nicole, but for his wife. It wasn’t right that another woman should walk into their home like this. Jane should be here, not Nicole—or anyone else.
“I left the sour cream and salsa in the car,” Nicole said breathlessly when she returned. She placed both containers on the table, checked the oven and set the glass dish inside. “Okay.” She rubbed her palms together. “I think that’s everything.”
Cal remained standing by the door, wanting nothing so much as to see her go.
She pointed to the oven. “Thirty minutes. Do you need me to write that down?”
He shook his head and didn’t offer her an excuse to linger.
“I’ll stay if you like and put together a salad.”
>
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”
She smiled sweetly. “In that case, enjoy.”
This time when she left, Cal knew to stand several feet away to avoid any physical contact. He watched her walk back to her car, aware of an overwhelming sense of relief.
* * *
Life at the retirement residence suited Phil Patterson. He had his own small apartment and didn’t need to worry about cooking, since the monthly fee included three meals a day. He could choose to eat alone in his room or sit in the dining room if he wanted company. Adjusting to life without Mary hadn’t been easy—wasn’t easy now—but he kept active and that helped. So did staying in touch with friends. Particularly Frank Hennessey. Gordon Pawling, too. The three men played golf every week.
Frank’s wife, Dovie, and Mary had been close for many years, and in some ways Mary’s death from Alzheimer’s had been as hard on Dovie as it was on Phil. At the end, when Mary no longer recognized either of them, Phil had sat and wept with his wife’s dear friend. He hadn’t allowed himself to break down in front of his sons, but felt no such compunction when he was around Dovie. She’d cried with him, and their shared grief had meant more than any words she might have said.
Frank and Dovie had Phil to dinner at least once a month, usually on the first Monday. He found it a bit odd that Frank had issued an invitation that afternoon when they’d finished playing cards at the seniors’ center.
“It’s the middle of the month,” Phil pointed out. “I was over at your place just two weeks ago.”
“Do you want to come for dinner or not?” Frank said.
Only a fool would turn down one of Dovie’s dinners. That woman could cook unlike anyone he knew. Even Mary, who was no slouch when it came to preparing a good meal, had envied Dovie’s talent.
“I’ll be there,” Phil promised, and promptly at five-thirty, he arrived at Frank and Dovie’s, a bouquet of autumn flowers in his hand.
A Country Christmas Page 5
