Читать книгу The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers - Cynthia Thomason, Cynthia Thomason - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

“GOOD MORNING AGAIN, MAGGIE.” With a breakfast tray in his hand, Martin Foster crossed the soft plum-colored carpeting and stopped at his wife’s bedside. He set the tray on a nightstand and fixed Maggie’s tea the way she liked it—a little cream, one sugar.

“Rebecca is going to be late this morning,” he said, explaining why he would feed Maggie instead of her nurse. “But that’s fine with me, gives us a chance to talk more about the wedding.”

He glanced over at the twin bed situated close to his wife’s larger one. Martin slept in the narrow bed every night now that the master bedroom had been converted to a sickroom. The sheets were still rumpled, but the weekend nurse would see to light housekeeping chores.

He tipped a teaspoon of tea toward Maggie’s mouth. She opened, swallowed and seemed eager for more.

“Later today, I’m going to make some large prints of photos I took with my phone so you can see how grand the wedding was, how happy our Alexis is with her new husband.” He hoped the pictures would stir some reaction in his wife. Maybe in some deep, quiet place that the Alzheimer’s had taken her, she would recognize the family who still loved her. But probably not.

He dipped a toast corner in tea and offered it to Maggie. She chewed automatically, swallowed. He followed that bite with scrambled eggs. So far, his Maggie was eating well this morning. He wouldn’t feel so badly about leaving her to go out for a while to run errands.

“Carrie’s leaving tomorrow,” he told Maggie. “This time, the forestry department is sending her to Michigan for an assignment. We’re lucky Carrie’s employers are so understanding about her asthma. They try to send her places where the triggers are seasonal so she can avoid them. The cool temperatures in Michigan this time of year should be beneficial.

“I wish I could think of a way to persuade her to change careers and find a job that is safer for her but you know how determined she is. She’s so much like you in that respect. She thinks she can take on the world, one tree at a time. Our Carrie only seems to flourish in the outdoors where every breath can threaten her health. But I’ll load up her duffel bag with medications and call her every week to be sure she’s taking them.”

Martin raised his wife’s head and put the teacup to her lips. She blinked rapidly while taking several long swallows.

“Now, Jude is another matter,” he said, scooping scrambled eggs onto a spoon. “I took a big step with regard to her yesterday. I’ve hired a crackerjack financial planner to look at the foundation’s books. Lawrence Manning’s boy, Liam.”

He searched Maggie’s face for some sign of disapproval. If Maggie hadn’t been ill, she probably would have chastised him for putting any part of Jude’s future in the hands of a relative of Alicia Manning’s. Maggie had never gotten on well with Lawrence’s now ex-wife, whom Maggie referred to as “Fox Creek’s self-appointed royalty.” When Lawrence and Alicia divorced, Maggie had privately congratulated Lawrence.

“Liam is going to take a look at the books, see if he can’t curb some of the spending.”

He paused as if waiting for Maggie to say something. Realizing his foolishness, he said, “I know what you’d say to me if you could speak. You’d tell me I should just talk to her myself. Well, I can’t. You were always the one who disciplined the girls. And as far as Jude is concerned, you always saw an inner spiritual strength in her that I never fully appreciated. ‘Our little fighter,’ you called her. Our Old Soul.” He chuckled. “You didn’t even seem upset when we drove to the police station to pick her up after some bit of nonsense, though you grounded her for weeks.

“I know she’s strong. I know her heart is as big as Dancing Falls. But to me she’s wounded, Maggie. Her hurt goes deep, and I can’t take a chance that something I say will drive us apart.” He sighed. “But I can’t let her continue spending as if there’s no end to the money, no matter how worthy the causes are.”

Martin stroked Maggie’s curly gray hair. The girls insisted that a beautician come once a week to wash and style their mother’s hair. “Liam is coming over tomorrow sometime,” he said. “Supposedly the kid has a brilliant mind. He’ll be able to steal a quick look at the books and figure out where Jude’s going wrong. I know the simple answer. She’s giving away more money than she’s bringing in. But telling her to let some of the charities go would be nearly impossible for me, hopefully not for Liam. Once Jude sets her mind to helping someone, she won’t quit. I guess that’s the fighter in her. And she finds it just as hard to say no.”

His phone rang and he took the instrument from his pocket. Checking the screen, he said, “It’s Aurora from next door. I’m going to bring her up here to meet you soon. The girls like her a lot.”

He connected. “Hello, Aurora. I can almost smell your cinnamon rolls from here. Save me one...” He held the phone away from his ear and grimaced. “What’s that? A goat is eating your fern?”

Background noise kept him from hearing Aurora’s words clearly. Her parrot was squawking up a storm. A lady guest was screaming that the goat tried to eat her skirt. And the goat—Martin didn’t know which one, but he was certain it had a name, since Jude named all her animals—was braying with enthusiasm.

“I’ll pick up Jude and be right there,” he said. Remembering Aurora’s penchant for using anything as a weapon, he said, “For heaven’s sake, Aurora, don’t hit the goat with a toilet plunger. Jude will never speak to us again.”

Martin called his housekeeper upstairs to sit with Maggie until the nurse arrived in a few minutes. Then he dialed Jude’s number as he sped to the barn. She and Wesley were waiting in front when he circled to pick them up. When Martin stopped, the two piled into his SUV. “Would you rather I take my truck?” she asked her father. “After eating ferns and skirts, the goat might—”

“No, there isn’t time.” Martin glanced back at his pristine SUV. “Let’s just hope his breakfast didn’t upset its stomach.” He stared across the seat at his daughter, who was still buttoning her jacket. “And I hope to heck this goat doesn’t have a hankering for parrot.”

“I think the culprit is female—Eloise,” Jude said, winding her long hair into a knot on top of her head. “I took a quick look around and didn’t see her with the herd. She likes to wander anyway and might have discovered a new hole in the fence.”

Dollar signs danced in front of Martin’s eyes. He’d just repaired the fence a few months ago when Jude’s dog, Mutt, invaded Aurora’s property. The incident had not been a particularly favorable way to meet his new neighbor who was setting up her bed-and-breakfast business. Thank goodness Aurora hadn’t held a grudge, and in fact, had become a considerate and helpful neighbor. Martin didn’t know how she would react to a full-fledged goat invasion.

* * *

BY THE TIME they’d entered Aurora’s property and driven around back, the situation had calmed. A middle-aged man had corralled Eloise with a cotton rope and was keeping her from further dietary damage.

Jude was the first out of the SUV. She skidded to a stop in front of her goat and placed a hand on each side of Eloise’s face. “You are one naughty goat,” she said. “Look at the trouble you’ve caused.” She took the end of the rope from the man. “I’m sorry about all this,” she said. “I’ll remove the nuisance right away.”

“No problem,” the man responded. “Gives me something to talk about at the golf club when I get home to Florida.” He handed his camera to Jude. “Do you know how to take a picture? I’d like to have proof that I tamed this mighty beast. Can you get one of me and the goat?”

“I should be able to,” Jude said.

“And another one with you in the picture. It would be nice if it looks like you’re praising me for my bravery and quick thinking,” the man added.

“Sure.” Martin watched in awe as Jude took the first picture and then squeezed close to the man with Eloise between them. The adults smiled. Jude smiled at the man. The goat contentedly chewed whatever had last gone in her mouth. Jude snapped a photo. Then as if realizing she’d thrown on yesterday’s barn clothes in her hurry to get downstairs this morning, she backed away rather than offend the man’s sense of smell. Her jeans had chicken feed stuck to the legs, and her shirt wasn’t even buttoned below her waist. She quickly tied the ends of the shirt into a makeshift bow.

Aurora came across the yard and stopped in front of Jude. “I’m sorry for the panic, dear,” she said. “The situation has been under control for the last few minutes.”

“No problem. You are definitely within your rights to expect an absence of goat on your property.” Realizing she was still the object of attention for Aurora’s guests, she walked Eloise toward Martin’s SUV. “Hey, Wes,” she called to her son. “Help Grandpa and me get this monster into the back.”

Wesley ambled over as if the last thing he wanted to do was lift the hindquarters of a goat. He’d probably been sleeping off wedding festivities when his mother woke him with an urgent call to “Get up!” this morning. Jude lowered a pair of ramps from the back of the SUV to the ground, and the three of them got Eloise inside. Then she and Martin went over to apologize once more to Aurora.

“Looks like we’ve got another hole,” Jude said. “But don’t worry, Aurora. I’ll keep Eloise on a leash until it’s mended.”

“And you get that helper of yours, Johnny Ray, to fix it, Jude,” Martin said, knowing he sounded unnaturally irritable. “I’ve spent enough on fence mending for one season.”

“Sure, Daddy. I’m on it.” She gazed around the now serene backyard scene. “Any damages, Aurora?” she asked. “Did Eloise eat someone’s smartphone or chew off a finger?”

“No, nothing so bad as that,” Aurora said. “Why don’t you have some tea and a cinnamon roll?”

Jude looked like she was about to accept the offer, but a pointed glare from her father followed by a nervous glance at the goat-filled SUV changed her mind. “Thanks, Aurora, but I think I’ll get Eloise home,” she said. “Dad, you can stay and I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

He agreed to the plan, watched his daughter and grandson drive his vehicle around to the front of Aurora’s home and then allowed Aurora to lead him inside her sunroom to a table set with a floral tablecloth and a pitcher of autumn wildflowers. His irritation suddenly vanished. Sometimes there was nothing so sweet as a glass of tea and a moment’s rest at Aurora’s Attic Bed-and-Breakfast.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with that one,” he said to Aurora. “Her projects are getting out of hand. She must have two-dozen goats over there.”

“Besides you, Wesley and the girls, Marty, those animals are Jude’s family. You can understand her attachment to them.” She smiled. “Not that I’m looking forward to another goat trespassing on my property anytime in the near future.”

“You’ve been very patient, Aurora. The girls are lucky to have you as a friend.” In the short time she’d lived next door, Aurora had managed to defuse several difficult situations in the Foster family. And Martin had found solace in being able to communicate with someone near his own age.

“And I’m lucky to have them,” Aurora said. “Now sit down and have some tea. I want to ask you about that young fella I saw Jude talking to at the wedding yesterday. They looked so cute together. If you ask me, a little love affair is just what that girl needs to get her mind off goats.”

“Aurora! A love affair?”

She laughed. “Don’t be such an old fuddy-duddy, Martin. You know what I mean. Jude needs romance in her life. Do you think it might happen?”

No, Martin hadn’t thought that could happen. He’d point-blank told Liam that Jude’s heart was a family matter. Besides, Jude was still in love with her husband, probably always would be. Was that a healthy way to live her life? Probably not. But Liam Manning hooked up with his wild, good-hearted Jude? No way. Three-piece suits did not go well with chaps and boots. And he wasn’t at all sure how he would feel if they were somehow attracted to each other.