Читать книгу Big Sky Christmas - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“Who’s Mommy’s little boy?”

Bobby giggled as Winnie tickled the bottoms of his feet, then pointed his chubby finger at his own chest.

“That’s right.” She touched her nose to his. “You are my little boy.” Were all babies this cute? Winnie didn’t believe it. Bobby was special. She put on his socks and his adorable sneakers, and as soon as she was done, he started toddling out of her reach.

She sighed. He was such a going concern now that he’d started walking. She chased after him, scooped him into her arms and he giggled again.

She’d lined up a babysitter for weekdays from ten to two, a friend of Eugenia’s whose children were grown and out of the house, but not yet married with families of their own.

They were headed to Linda Hunter’s now.

She tucked Bobby into his new winter snowsuit, then grabbed the diaper bag she’d prepared earlier that morning. She left her apartment, which was above the café, through the back door and down the fire escape. More snow had fallen on Sunday and again last night, and Bobby wiggled in her arms. He wanted to play with all that cool white stuff.

“Later, honey.” Now that he was mobile, she needed to buy him boots, which would mean a trip to Lewistown. If not for the wedding this past weekend, she would have taken him shopping on Saturday.

A black Ford pickup truck turned onto Main Street. She recognized the vehicle even before she spotted Jackson behind the wheel. He had on aviator sunglasses and a dark brown cowboy hat. He slowed as he passed by, but didn’t stop.

She’d thought a lot about Jackson since Saturday night. His kind attempt to distract her during the ceremony. How much fun he’d been to dance with. But most of all, she’d thought about his parting words to her. Can you really look at me and not think, there’s the guy who was driving when my fiancé died?

He hadn’t given her time to answer. But if he had, she would have said, Of course I can. She’d never thought of him as the man who was responsible for Brock’s death. But that was obviously how he thought of himself. How could she change his mind about that when he seemed determined to avoid her?

A lot of locals made a point of stopping by her café when they came to town, but Jackson rarely had and she knew he wouldn’t today, either. She didn’t buy the excuse he’d given her at the wedding. Maybe he didn’t have a sweet tooth. But she had yet to meet a cowboy who didn’t love his coffee.

She turned and watched as his truck made a right on Grave Street. He must be headed to either the Lonesome Spur Bar, Ed’s Feed Supply or the cemetery. Odds favored the feed supply store. Maybe, just maybe, he’d surprise her and drop in for a coffee when his business was done.

Bobby placed his hands on her face, forcing her to look at him. “Mama go.”

She grinned. He’d just strung together his first two-word sentence. “You’re a smart boy. Yes, Mama should get going. Linda will be wondering where we are.”

She chatted to him about his new babysitter as she walked. She always talked to Bobby as if he could understand everything she said, and who knew, maybe he did.

Linda lived in a ranch-style bungalow on Aspen Street, and she must have been watching for them out the window because she had the front door open as soon as they arrived. Besides her warm, smiling face, they were greeted with the aroma of fresh-baked bread. Linda’s brown hair, only slightly streaked with gray, was pulled back with a clip and she was dressed in jeans and a pale pink sweater.

She didn’t make the mistake of reaching for Bobby too soon. Instead she said hello and smiled, then pointed to an area where she’d set out some simple building blocks, cars and board books.

Bobby strained to reach them, almost tumbling out of his mother’s arms. With a laugh, Winnie set him on the floor.

“I’ve childproofed this room,” Linda told her. “And I have my neighbor’s old high chair so I can feed him his lunch. Will he want a nap after that, do you think?”

“He usually does. But I’m hoping to pick him up early since this is his first time at your place.” Winnie handed over a sheet with Bobby’s schedule that she’d printed last night. Then the diaper bag. “All his food is in here, as well as diapers and a change of clothes if he needs them.”

“We’ll be fine,” Linda said, reassuringly.

Winnie smiled her gratitude, unable to speak because she was suddenly teary. It was hard leaving her baby with a sitter. But she knew Laurel—who’d taken over at the Cinnamon Stick after Brock’s death—was ready to hand the reins back to her. Laurel had enough to do taking care of her nine-month-old daughter, Stephanie, helping Corb around the ranch and writing her blog.

Winnie didn’t make a big deal out of saying goodbye to Bobby, and Linda eased her transition out the door by distracting him with a super-cool dump truck.

Fifteen minutes later, Winnie was at work in the café’s kitchen, chopping vegetables for her chicken-curry soup recipe. At the sound of the door chime she looked up, wondering if she’d see Jackson. But it was Straws Monahan, the owner of the impressive equestrian center where the wedding had taken place last Saturday. The center, about ten miles from town in the opposite direction from the Lamberts’ ranch, was one of the county’s main employers. Which made Straws, recently widowed and in his sixties, one of the area’s most important men.

Dawn Dolan, a young blonde who still lived at home while she took correspondence courses to upgrade her high school marks, asked him in a cheerful voice how he was and what could she get him.

Winnie smiled, pleased with Dawn’s friendly approach. She’d hired Dawn, Eugenia and their baker, Vince, years ago when she’d first opened her café, and they’d all proved to be hardworking and loyal employees.

Winnie knew she’d never have been able to keep her business afloat the past eighteen months if it wasn’t for all of them and Laurel.

Dawn and Eugenia had both agreed to work longer shifts during that time. Laurel had left her dream job as an editorial assistant in New York City to relocate in Coffee Creek. And Vince had kept making the cinnamon buns, muffins and fresh breads that kept her customers coming back for more.

Most people were shocked when they discovered that the Cinnamon Stick’s delicious baked goods were made by a member of the Cowboy Hall of Fame, but that was one of the things Winnie loved about Coffee Creek. People here just pitched in and did what needed to be done.

She transferred the carrots she’d been dicing into the industrial-size soup pot on the stove. Just as she was reaching for the celery, she heard someone new entering. Hoping again it might be Jackson, she glanced up with a smile.

And had to work to keep it there when she saw Olive Lambert. Bobby’s grandmother was dressed in “work” clothes today—pressed jeans, clean boots and a tailored sheepskin jacket. She nodded at Straws. “Good day.”

“Sure is. All recovered from the big weekend?”

Olive sighed with satisfaction. “My daughter made a beautiful bride. She and Farley left yesterday for Maui.”

“Our sheriff was quite the bride, too,” commented Straws, who’d also been at the wedding. “She and B.J. are going to Australia for their honeymoon, aren’t they?”

Olive’s smile dimmed a little. “They are. Taking an entire month off.”

“Well, November is the time to do it.”

“I suppose.”

“Here’s your order, Mr. Monahan.” Dawn passed him a to-go cup and a bag with his pastry, then turned to Olive. “What can I get you, Mrs. Lambert?”

“Nothing. I’m here to speak with Winnie.”

Hands already washed and dried in anticipation of this, Winnie stepped out from the counter. “Hello, Olive. Why don’t we sit down?”

She led Olive to an empty booth at the back. Relax. Stay calm, she advised herself. It would be easier, she hoped, to deal with Olive here than it had been at the wedding.

Her café was a warm, welcoming place, painted and decorated in the colors of the foods Winnie loved most: caramel, chocolate, vanilla and, of course, cinnamon. The booths were nestled up to wooden-framed windows that overlooked the picturesque Coffee Creek for which the town had been named.

In the spring and summer, the water had a translucent topaz color, which some more prosaic types likened to the color of weak coffee.

In the winter, though, ice and snow crept up from the banks of the creek, and the cold streaming water looked more gray than brown.

“I was hoping to meet my grandson today,” Olive said, without preamble. “Finally.”

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear. Afternoon is the best time for visits. Around two-thirty, after I finish work.”

“So where is he now?” Olive glanced around as if expecting to see him.

“At Linda Hunter’s. She’s his new babysitter.”

Olive frowned. “The whole town is going to have met that child before me.”

“What are you doing later today?”

“I’ll be at home, going over the accounts, probably.”

“I could bring him out to Coffee Creek Ranch for a visit.”

Olive’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you could stay for dinner?”

Winnie forced a smile. “Sure. When would you like us? We can come anytime after four.”

“How about five, then? We’ll eat early so you can get Bobby home at a decent time.” Olive started to rise, then hesitated. “Maybe you could take a look at Brock’s cabin while you’re at the ranch. I was thinking it might make a good home for you and Bobby.”

Winnie had heard rumors that Olive wanted her and Bobby to live on Coffee Creek Ranch. Years ago Bob Lambert had built three cabins alongside a small lake on the ranch for Brock, B.J. and Corb.

Since Brock’s death, his cabin had been vacant—but moving in there had very little appeal to Winnie. “That’s a very kind offer. But my apartment is fine for now. Nice and close to work and Bobby’s babysitter.”

“Corb, Laurel and Stephanie are very comfortable in their cabin. And I’m sure you’d love living so close to them.”

That part was true. But it was living near Olive that had her worried.

“Trust me, your son will be a lot happier growing up on a ranch than he would be in town. Don’t you think it’s what Brock would have wanted?”

Winnie didn’t know what to say to that. Olive had a point. Brock probably would want her and Bobby to move to his cabin.

“In fact—” Olive’s eyes sparkled as an idea struck her “—why don’t I ask Bonny to freshen up the place today and then Corb can drive his truck into town and help you pack? I bet we could get most of your belongings moved tonight.”

Tonight.

Tonight?

“But—” Winnie floundered.

“I’ll stop in at Molly’s Market and pick up some groceries to stock your cupboards and the fridge. And I’m sure—”

“Wait,” Winnie finally said. “This is such a kind offer. But may I think about it a few days?”

“What’s to think about? I’m not just offering you a place to live, Winnie. I plan to sign over the papers. The cottage will belong to you, free and clear.”

It was incredibly generous. And yet, to Winnie, it still felt like a trap.

Olive placed her hand over Winnie’s. “You’re a mother now. And mothers put their children’s needs before their own. I’m sure it’s convenient for you to be close to your work. But think about Bobby. Your apartment is just too small. I’ve had three sons, so I know what boys need, and that’s space. Room to play and run and explore.”

Winnie stared mutely at Brock’s mother. In the back of her mind she registered the fact that the ladies in the booth beside them had left and some new customers had come in. But she didn’t look up to see who they were, or if Dawn needed help.

Right now all she could focus on was Olive.

The older woman had hit a nerve when she’d said a mother had to put her child’s interests first.

Was she being selfish by not taking Olive up on her offer?

“Maybe when Bobby’s older we could move into Brock’s cabin,” she finally said. “But he’s still small. My apartment is fine for now.”

Olive must have been so sure she was winning her case. Now her brow furrowed with consternation. “Are you serious? But isn’t it a one bedroom?”

Winnie didn’t want to answer. Because she knew Olive was right, that she needed a bigger space. There had to be another solution. If only—

And then, suddenly and unbelievably, Jackson was standing by their table. Winnie gazed up from his boots, to his worn jeans, his open jacket, his guarded face. He touched the tip of his hat. “Olive.” He nodded to the older woman, then to her. “Winnie.”

“Hello, Jackson.” Olive’s greeting was clipped. She clearly wasn’t pleased at the interruption.

But Winnie sure was. “Hi there, Jackson. Why don’t you sit down while I bring you both some coffee and cinnamon buns?”

“I didn’t come for food,” Jackson said quickly. “Just wondered when you wanted me to start work on that second bedroom for the apartment.”

She stared at him blankly. But only for a second. And then she smiled. “The sooner, the better.”

“This week is looking good. If I got some measurements now, I could have the supplies by Friday.”

“Sounds perfect.” Winnie turned back to Olive. “Bobby and I are going to be okay for the time being. But I do appreciate your offer. And I will definitely keep it in mind.”

Olive gathered her purse, then stood. Her gaze flickered sharply from Jackson to Winnie, then back again. She wasn’t a woman who liked losing. And Winnie could tell she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet.

“We’ll talk about this some more over dinner tonight.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

* * *

“WHAT A HERO. Thank you.” Winnie gave Jackson a grateful smile after Olive left the café. “Let me at least get you a coffee for the road.”

“It was nothing. Don’t bother.” She looked so pretty today in a soft blue sweater and jeans. He liked the way she wore her clothes. They hugged her curves without being so tight they looked like they’d shrunk in the wash. Suddenly remembering he shouldn’t even be noticing, he raised his gaze and followed her back to the kitchen.

“How did you guess that Olive had me cornered?”

“Been there myself, far too many times.”

“That was a brilliant cover story. Wish I could think so fast on my feet.” Ignoring his refusal, she poured coffee in a to-go cup, snapped on a cover then tried to hand it to him.

“I don’t—”

“—like coffee,” she finished. “Right. You’re forgetting I know you. I’ve seen you come in from the barn and head straight to the coffeemaker in the Lamberts’ kitchen. Black, right?”

“No thanks,” he insisted. Avoiding this place had always taken an enormous amount of willpower on his part. He had a feeling that once he tasted her coffee it would be even harder. “By the way, I wasn’t just blowing smoke with that offer.”

She put a hand on one of her curvy hips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can make you a second bedroom up there.”

She looked puzzled. “You can? But have you even seen the apartment?”

She’d invested an inheritance from her grandmother into the building several years ago, after she and Brock were engaged. The charming brick house on Main Street had seemed perfect at the time. She’d opened her café on the main floor and planned to live in the second-floor apartment until the wedding, after which she’d move to the ranch with Brock and find a renter for her apartment.

Things hadn’t worked out that way. But that had been the plan.

“Brock showed me around once, before you moved in. There’s an L-shaped living room, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, if we built a wall, you could have a separate room for Bobby. It would be small. But then, so is he, right?”

“Are you serious? You’d really do this for us?”

“Sure.” He didn’t believe he could atone for Brock’s death. But he could help his son—not to mention the woman who had been left standing at the altar. In fact, he felt obliged to do so. “It won’t take long. A few weeks. And I’d time the work for when you and Bobby are out.”

That would be a key part of the arrangement. The last thing he was trying to do here was spend more time with Winnie.

“I’m planning to work every day from ten to two. Bobby will be out at his babysitter’s.”

“Perfect. I’ll come by after morning chores and be back in time for the evening ones.” Luckily, being November, there wasn’t that much going on at the ranch. And he’d still have evenings to spend with Maddie. The sickly woman was no longer able to go out, and he usually made them supper, after which they played a round of cribbage then watched the news.

It was a simple, unexciting existence. But he felt good, knowing that his presence made a real difference to Maddie Turner’s life. Plus the older woman was pleasant company, undemanding even in her poor state of health.

“Let’s take a quick look right now. If you have time?”

He hesitated only a second. “Sure.”

They went up the back set of stairs to a small landing with a single door. It wasn’t locked, and soon they were in Winnie’s cheery apartment. Unlike the café, which was decorated in the warm, muted colors of autumn, this space had been painted white. Bright turquoise, tangerine and yellow cushions, and some framed posters on the walls added vivacity and made the space seem very much hers.

It didn’t take long for Winnie to show him around.

And it took even less time for him to realize that the space really was too small for her and her son. The problem was all the baby paraphernalia. There was a high chair in the kitchen. One of those baby jumping contraptions in the arched hallway. And toys everywhere.

“Sorry.” Winnie picked up a fire truck and placed it in a large plastic tub. “We were rushed this morning and didn’t have time to tidy up.”

“Maybe you should consider Olive’s offer. You’d have a lot more room in Brock’s cabin.”

Winnie glanced around the apartment, then sighed. “It is pretty crazy, isn’t it? But can I be honest with you?”

His heart thudded, warning him of potential danger. But he nodded, all the same.

“I loved Brock very much and a part of me probably always will. But I’m twenty-eight years old. I may be a single mother, and that adds complications, but eventually I’m going to want to date again. Who knows, I may even fall in love.”

She glanced at her hands, and for the first time Jackson noticed that while she still wore Brock’s ring, it was on the other hand now. “I could even get married,” she added softly.

Jackson could well imagine all of the above happening. And a dark envy for this unnamed man filled him with a wave of anger. He waited for the emotion to recede. “I’m sure none of the Lamberts expect you to grieve for Brock forever.”

“Besides Olive, you mean?”

He grinned.

“I’m sure you’re right. They’re good people. And Olive is making a generous offer. The cabin is gorgeous and I’d be next door to my best friend.... But can you imagine me inviting a new man out there? How could I possibly start dating right under the eyes of all those Lamberts?”

“I get it.” And he did. For as wonderful as the Lamberts were, they could also be overpowering. If she moved out to the ranch, he could well see Winnie’s social life being dominated by family events and gatherings.

Much the way his own had been before he moved to Maddie Turner’s.

He realized then that he had to make this work for her. He surveyed the room again, then nodded. “We’ll put the wall here.” He demonstrated with his hands. “And the door here.”

Winnie narrowed her eyes. Visualizing. “Yes. I like that idea. Are you sure it won’t take too much of your time?”

“Pretty straightforward job, actually.”

As long as he kept his distance and didn’t start imagining himself as the man she might start dating.