Читать книгу Wife By Contract - Raye Morgan - Страница 9

Three

The place looked the same, only a decade and a half older and more run-down. Right next to it was a shiny new building. The sign in the window said Nails By Nancy, and Joe stopped for a moment and stared at the little yellow storefront, wondering who in the world there was for Nancy to do the nails of—whoever Nancy was. Shaking his head, he took the steps into the general store two at a time and burst in through the front door.

The theme inside was pure familiarity. Goods were still stocked to the ceiling, stacked precariously on long plank shelves. A lazy fan took a fainthearted pass at stirring the air. Two ancient residents sat on chairs tilted back until they leaned against the wall, and Annie Andrews stood behind the counter, working on her account books.

She looked up over her glasses when she heard him come in and gave a snort of surprise as he walked into the dusty little building.

“As I live and breathe. Joey Camden.” The gray-haired woman folded her arms across her chest and gazed at him instead of giving him a hug, but her snapping black eyes and crooked grin were filled with the warmth of her welcome, and he appreciated it, grinning right back. “What brings you to these parts, stranger?”

“The call of the wild, I guess,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and rocking back on his heels. “You always told me Alaska would call me back.”

She nodded, looking pleased. “That I did. And I’m always right, aren’t I?”

“Always,” he agreed. He glanced at the two old-timers, but though they were eagerly hanging on to every word of this conversation, he could see that he didn’t know either one of them. He gave them a nod and turned back to Annie.

“You going to be living with your brother in that old house?” she asked him, her eyes sparkling at the thought of it.

He hesitated. “No, not exactly. In fact, I’m just here for a short visit. I’m on my way to see Mom.”

Annie nodded, taking a swipe at the counter with a rag. “How is your mother?” she asked. “She writes me every year at Christmas, but it isn’t the same as having her a mile or so down the road. She was one of the few females I ever got on well with around here.”

“She’s okay. Not as young as she used to be, and she’s worrying me a bit.” He moved awkwardly, not used to unburdening his soul, but somehow the truth came pouring out. Maybe it was because he was talking to a woman who had known him since he was a baby.

“Actually, that’s why I came. I’ve been trying to get Greg to come into Anchorage and see her. But you know how he is. Cities give him hives. Or so he says.”

“Unlike you, who loves them.”

He shrugged and gave her a crooked grin. “You know me well, Miss Annie.”

Annie nodded her appreciation for his use of the old term he’d used for her when he was a boy, but her brow furled. “Joey Camden, you’re Alaska born and bred,” she accused. “How can you stay down in that forsaken place in California when you know you should be back here where you belong?”

“Here?” He shook his head and laughed shortly. “Oh, no. I don’t belong here anymore. I’m a city lawyer now, Annie. You remember. That’s what I always wanted.”

She nodded, looking a bit sulky. “Oh, yes, I remember it well. Bright lights and big cities, that was what you always said. And I always told you it wouldn’t satisfy you for long.”

“Well, that may just have been the one thing you were wrong about.”

She shook her head, stubborn as ever. “Nope. I’m never wrong about things that have to do with the heart. You’re the one who just hasn’t woken up and smelled the coffee yet.”

It certainly wasn’t worth arguing about. “Maybe you’re right,” he allowed. “I see this town is going great guns. You’ve even got yourselves a nail parlor. How’d you get so lucky?”

Annie grinned. “Nancy came about a year ago. Calls herself an eco-feminist. Wanted to hunt and fish and live as one with nature. You know the type. Wouldn’t know nature if it came up and bit her where the sun don’t shine.” She chuckled, enjoying her own little joke. “Turned out she was a total failure at the hunting-and-fishing stuff. Guns scared her, and she couldn’t look a trout in the eye. Thought they were slimy. But I got to hand it to her—she wouldn’t give up. I suppose partly it was that she didn’t want to go back and face her eco-feminist friends with failure. Anyway, she decided she would stay, but go with avenues down which her talents really lie.”

“Nails,” Joe guessed.

“Yup. And manicures for the guys, things like that.”

“Oh, come on, Annie. How many men around here want manicures?”

“Every dang one of them when the place first opened. You should have seen them. They were standing in line.”

Joe looked shocked, then his face changed as the light dawned. “Oh. She’s a looker, is she?”

Annie grinned. “She’s about the prettiest girl we’ve had around these parts since the Babbitt twins left for summer jobs at Disney World and never came back.”

Joe nodded. The twins had been about five years older than he, but he remembered well the sad day they left for the lower states. The men in Dunmovin had mourned for months.

“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. Let me fix you some dinner. How about it?”

He smiled. “Thanks, Annie. But right now, I’ve got other things on my mind.” He glanced around the littie room again. “Do you have any idea where I could find my brother?”

Annie pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I take it you’ve already been out to the house,” she began, then her eyes brightened. “Say, wait a minute. Billy McGee was in here earlier and he said some woman had come in on the mail plane, come to see Greg. Had two little kids with her.”

Joe nodded. “That’s right.”

Her black eyes narrowed craftily. “Said she was coming here to marry Greg. Any truth in that?”

Joe hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m not sure about that.”

Annie leaned forward and pinned him with her flashing gaze. “Said she was some sort of mail-order bride. Any truth in that?”

Joe sighed and gave her a long, lazy look. This was not a rumor he wanted spread. “I thought mail-order brides went out when the gold fields dried up,” he said silkily. “I never did believe a woman would do something like that, anyway.”

Annie snorted. “I know plenty of men who would jump at the chance to pick out a wife like they pick out their drill presses and their Sunday-go-to-meetin’ clothes. Just choose a number and send in a check and she’s yours, for better or for worse.”

“Mostly worse, likely.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “Who knows? The divorce rate ain’t so great on matches people choose for themselves when they supposedly fall in love first.”

He grinned at her. “You’ve got a point there.” His grin faded and he grimaced, leaning closer so that only Annie could hear him. “Tell you the truth, she does claim she’s here because Greg...well, because he sent for her. You don’t know anything about this?”

Annie’s eyes glittered but she shook her head. “No, . really. Greg has never been one to whisper his secrets in my ear.”

Joe grinned. “I know that. I just thought you might have noticed the mail going back and forth.”

One eyebrow rose. “Now that you mention it, there was a lot of correspondence there for a while. You know, Greg comes in with his bills once a month. That’s usually the only time I ever see him. Oh, and when the Field and Stream magazines come in, he’s always here the next day. But he was coming in almost every other day for a while.” She gasped. “Wait a minute. I do seem to remember overhearing him talk about some girl he was going to get hitched with. I didn’t pay it much mind—you know how your brother tends to...” She hesitated.

“Lie?” Joe supplied.

“Well, now, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. How about he just embroiders the truth a little? He likes to make life dramatic.”

“Yeah, right.” Joe nodded, his mouth twisting cynically. “Meanwhile...I’ve got a bride on my hands, and no groom in sight. If you see Greg, tell him to get his tail on home and clean up this mess.”

“You can bet I’ll do exactly that.” She followed him to the door of the building and added gruffly, “And you come on back and see me again before you leave. You hear?”

“Will do.” Surprising her, surprising even himself, he bent down and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. “See you later, Miss Annie.”

She pressed her hand to where he’d made his imprint and colored as he left, swinging down the steps and sliding behind the wheel of his fancy car. “You always were a little dickens,” she muttered, but she couldn’t hold back the pleased smile, and she shook her head as he waved, taking off in a dust cloud.

It was eerie walking into the house and hearing someone in the kitchen. Almost like the old days. But it was even eerier hearing children playing in the living room. That wasn’t much like old days. Joe and his brother never played happily like Rusty and Kim were doing. They had mainly fought.

Joe stopped in the doorway, watching the kids. They’d rigged up an old sheet between two armchairs and were using it as a tent. Kim was under the canopy, sitting cross-legged, swaying and singing a song to herself. Rusty was being an airplane, zooming around the room, stopping to babble something unintelligible at the two long-tailed goldfish who were swimming lazy laps in their bowl on the hutch, then turning abruptly to swoop toward Kim, making her shriek with delighted fear. For a moment, Joe took in the play and wondered at it. So this was what happy children did. He realized he didn’t know much about kids, when you came right down to it. All he knew about was the way he and his brother had been, and the word happy hadn’t come up much.

Suddenly, Rusty caught sight of him and stopped dead. Kim whirled, saw him and her thumb went straight into her mouth.

“Hi, kids,” he said, feeling a little awkward.

They stayed still as statues, staring at him, as though they had to be prepared to run if he took another step toward them.

He searched his mind for a topic of conversation, but came up with nothing. Then his gaze fell on the goldfish bowl.

“Hey, how do you like these two guys?” he asked heartily. “Aren’t they cute?”

Rusty looked at the bowl and nodded. “What are their names?” he asked.

“Uh...” How should he know? But pets had to have names. “Goldie and Piranha,” he said off the top of his head. “Do you like goldfish?”

Neither of them said anything. Both just stared at him, and he found himself sweating under this kind of scrutiny. Swearing softly under his breath, he turned away. Obviously, he had no natural knack with children. That was hardly surprising. Still, it hurt a little to think kids hated him on sight.

On the other hand, women usually liked him just fine, and there happened to be one on the premises. Feeling better about it all, he made his way to the kitchen, where he’d heard those busy sounds when he’d first come back into the house.

Chynna was at the sink and he stopped, startled by the change. She’d cast off her business suit for jeans and a jersey top that hugged her curves like—well, it might be best not to go on with that simile. And it might be important not to let his gaze linger too long on the more spectacular elements. Shifting his attention to the dishwater, he came in and plunked himself down at the table.

“How did you know,” he asked abruptly, “that you were going to like kids? Before you had them, I mean. What gave you the courage to take the plunge?”

She looked at him for a moment, turning her head so that her long, loose hair swung like a pendulum at her back, and laughed. “What did they do to you now?” she asked, one hand on her hip.

He managed an innocent look. “Nothing. Not a thing.” Then his conscience got the better of him. “Well, if they were a little older, I’d say they snubbed me. But since they’re just kids...”

“Kids can break your heart, too,” she said softly. “They’re so open and innocent about it. They haven’t learned to hide their feelings, so what they do comes straight from their soul. That can hurt a lot.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged it off. “I guess you’re just a natural with children, aren’t you?”

She threw back her head and laughed, surprising him. “Hardly,” she said, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I made a lot of mistakes. I still make them.”

He shook his head. “It’s all too complex for me. I don’t think I’ll ever have kids. I have enough trouble keeping a dog happy.”

The laughter evaporated from her face like spring rain on hot pavement. This was not the way she wanted things to go.

“Kids are great,” she said quickly. “They grow on you.”

“Like fungus?” He made a face. “No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”

“You’ll see,” she said, gazing at him seriously. “You’ll see.”

He looked back into her deep, dark eyes, and something he saw there—or maybe something he didn’t see—made him uneasy.

“Listen,” he began, feeling as though he had to explain things to her, make her face the fact that he wasn’t Greg, that he would never go for kids, that he doubted if Greg would, either, that she had made a big mistake coming here to Alaska.

But as though she read his mind and didn’t want to hear it, she turned away, reaching for the pan she’d been scouring, and the words stopped in his throat. At the same time, he noticed she’d been cleaning.

“Wow,” he said, examining the kitchen, first one side and then the other. The tile on the counters was shining, and the boxes of food that had been stacked there earlier had vanished. “You didn’t need to do this.”