Читать книгу Deal Of A Lifetime - T. R. McClure - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

SERA DIDN’T USUALLY run in the rain, but the stranger currently occupying the bed in the spare room had thrown her. After a restless night and knowing a stranger slept under her roof, she needed to think. And the best place to think was outside. She stood on the porch and breathed deep of the chilly, damp air. Gray clouds hung low over the fields. She couldn’t tell if the rain was over or if there was more to come.

“What do you think? Is it clearing up?” She glanced at her companion.

A tall, skinny mongrel with a coat the color of slate gazed up with concern. At the distant rumble of thunder, the dog turned and pressed his nose to the door. Of her two dogs, the animal who had appeared just the summer before was the more skittish one.

“The thunder’s moving away, Lucky.” But she opened the door and let him into the house, where he would disappear into the den and hide under the grand piano. Sera stretched and bounced down the stairs. She needed this run. It would relax her. She jogged through the arch and ran past the shed where she parked the truck. The empty space reminded her she had to figure out how to retrieve the old pickup from the ditch. The brushy branches of the big mock orange bush next to the building showed just a hint of green. Soon the shrub would be covered with thousands of snow-white blossoms and perfume the air with their sweet scent.

She ran past the field where tiny green shoots poked through the dark soil. Sweet corn was one of her most profitable crops. Few people grew their own, but most still loved the traditional sweet corn for summer picnics. She breathed deep of the damp air and continued her steady pace. She wondered if the newcomer was awake yet and how soon Cy Carter would arrive to claim his long-lost relative. Her breaths came shorter as she started up the incline to the top of the hill. Leaving the bare fields behind, she slowed and then stopped in the orchard. Fog shrouded the bare apple trees, but at least the rain had stopped. Usually at this point she could see Little Bear Creek, but fog hung so thick over the valley she couldn’t see the bottom of the hill.

Heat rose up her neck and onto her cheeks as she remembered running off the road the night before. She should have been watching for deer, but the man’s presence had distracted her. When she had slid across the seat to get out of the truck, he had reached up for her hood. But for a minute she thought he was standing there, hands up, waiting for her, as if he had lifted her down from the truck dozens of times. She had almost brushed away his outstretched arms. But the offer of help came so rarely she couldn’t resist. Then when she had accidentally fallen against him and they lay there in the dark and the blessed quiet, she had the strangest urge to put her head on his chest and close her eyes. The surrounding darkness and the rain dropping on the leaves had created a kind of comfortable bubble that seemed made just for the two of them. Serafina Callahan and Alexander Kimmel. When he’d begun complaining, she just wanted him to stop talking. Just wanted one more minute of peace and quiet. So yes, she had kissed him. But if she pretended it hadn’t happened...well, then, it hadn’t happened. She shook her head to dispel the image.

The still-bare branches reached into the fog like bony fingers. Singling out a lone tree, she framed the shot with the thumbs and forefingers of both hands. She really should go back and get her camera. Funny that her brain still went into picture-taking mode after all this time. She took one last look at the foggy tableau and started back down the hill. The rain picked up.

Aunt Hope would have coffee brewing by now. And if she were lucky, their impromptu visitor would be out of the spare bedroom and across the creek where he belonged.

* * *

HE OPENED HIS eyes to Big Ben, the old-fashioned windup alarm clock his grandfather used to keep by the side of the bed. Next to the clock sat a crystal dish full of peppermints. He definitely wasn’t sleeping in his own cramped bedroom on the Lower East Side. Rain drummed a steady rhythm on the roof. The bed was warm, and for a moment all he wanted to do was pull the comforter over his head and sink farther into the soft pillow that smelled like sunny days. The usual tenseness in his neck and shoulders was gone. Maybe he should put in for vacation. He wondered if he could actually relax for a week.

When he lifted his head off the pillow to glance out the window, his forehead throbbed with pain. He probed the bump over his eye as he glanced around the spacious room. The white metal bed frame sat high off the floor, which was covered with a rag rug. Sheer curtains hung in the windows, but since the sun wasn’t shining, the curtains had nothing to hide.

He lay back against the crisp pillowcase and closed his eyes. Thanks to the young couple with the van, he and Sera hadn’t walked far the night before, but rolling around in the sodden leaves had left him wet and muddy. She had marched him through a dimly lit kitchen, down a dark hallway and up the stairs to the guest room and the bathroom, where he had taken a hot shower. He hadn’t seen her since. He hadn’t seen Cujo either, concluding the woman just wanted to mess with his head. She was doing a good job. His carry-on sat on a straight-back chair next to the window.

Throwing on a T-shirt and jeans, he entered the hallway and was greeted with the sight of six closed doors. He must have been more disoriented the night before than he realized, because he tried three doors, opening into empty bedrooms before finding the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. His wet clothes from the night before still lay in the claw-foot tub. Then he descended the stairs into an entry. Gray light streamed through the side glass panels of the big front door, where a coatrack and bench sat to the right. He peeked through the adjacent doorway. A grand piano occupied the space between two windows at the front. A large rolltop desk occupied the other corner. In between, a couch fronted a brick fireplace.

He followed his nose down the hall toward the back of the house. Somebody had made coffee. Pictures covered almost every inch of the flowered wallpaper decorating the length of the hallway. Two baby pictures, a faded wedding photo, graduation pictures of a boy and a girl. He stopped and stared at a younger Sera. The dark hair was poker straight. A photograph of an orchard in bloom.

Leaving the old photos behind, he continued down the hall. The house was silent. His hostess was still asleep.

The coffee smell grew stronger as he entered the warm kitchen. The only light came from the flames glowing through the grates of an old white cookstove. Spying a coffeemaker on the counter, he touched the glass pot. Still warm.

He opened the overhead cupboard door and reached for a mug. Yellow script and a slipper-shaped yellow flower adorned opposite sides of a brown cup. The Wildflower.

“Coffee’s not more than twenty minutes old.”

At the sound of the unexpected voice, the cup flew out of his hands. Alex had always considered himself to have quick reflexes. He snagged the cup just before it hit the floor.

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Alex looked around the dim kitchen. He still couldn’t see where the voice had originated. The kitchen table in the middle of the room was unoccupied, a sugar bowl and salt and pepper shakers in the middle. In the corner opposite the cookstove was a rocking chair with an afghan, next to a lumpy dog pillow. At the sight, he stiffened. So there was a dog. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. The dog must be outside. He continued his perusal of the big kitchen. Sink, stove and refrigerator.

But when his investigation revealed a second dog pillow in the other corner occupied by a huge, spotted dog, his heart stopped. Snores came from the large wet nose, the lower lips quivering with each exhalation. The hairs on the back of Alex’s neck prickled as he took in the size of the black, brown and white animal. Cujo?

Returning his gaze to the rocking chair, he squinted. A tiny woman sat there with an afghan over her lap. Her face was in shadows, which was why his gaze had skimmed past her the first time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” Keeping his voice low, he sneaked a glance at the big dog. Still asleep. “Do you mind if I have some coffee?”

“Help yourself.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “So you’re Jean’s nephew from New York City.”

Alex set his cup on the table. The chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it from the table. When the dog lifted his massive head to investigate, Alex froze. Only when the head dropped to the pillow did he breathe a sigh of relief and sit.

He sipped the hot, strong coffee before answering. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry for the imposition. I ran into Sera at the airport, she called my aunt and my aunt talked her into letting me stay here overnight. I guess the bridge was flooded.”

“That’s my Sera. Always taking in strays. In between all her other jobs.”

Sipping the hot coffee, Alex’s brows knit at the reference. “Are you Sera’s grandmother?”

“I’m her great-aunt. You can call me Hope.”

He glanced up at the rooster clock over the sink. He had slept later than usual. “Is Sera still sleeping?”

“Heavens, no. She runs every morning. Says it helps her organize her thoughts. You turning up must’ve given her something to think about.” Chuckling, the woman stood. “Why don’t I fix you some breakfast? Bacon and eggs sound good?” She laid the striped afghan over the back of the chair and smoothed the front of her blouse. Her gray hair was wrapped in a braid and pinned on top of her head.

Alex couldn’t believe how tiny the woman was. Why, she barely reached his chest. “You shouldn’t bother. Coffee’s fine.”

But the woman seemed not to have heard him as she retrieved a heavy black iron skillet and dropped it onto the wood stove with a clang. Minutes later bacon sizzled.

“So you’re her great-aunt. Just the two of you here?”

She set a tub of butter and a jar of jam in the middle of the table and paused to give him her undivided attention. “At the moment. Chance was just home for a visit. That’s Sera’s brother.” Her face lit with a broad smile. “He’s a singer. That’s why she happened to be at the airport when you came in. Chance was on his way back to Nashville.” She carried a carton of eggs to the stove. “Mark my words. One of these days he’ll be singing at the Grand Ole Opry.”

She cracked an egg into a smaller skillet with one hand. The sound seemed to finally stir the big dog, who stood and stretched. He took two steps in Alex’s direction and growled, stared at him with droopy brown eyes.

“Should I leave?” He didn’t take his eyes from the dog.

“Why do you ask?” She was busy at the stove, laying crispy strips of bacon on paper towels.

“Cujo’s awake. Maybe I should go outside before he gets excited.” Alex eased out of the chair and backed toward the door. The dog dropped his nose to the floor and snorted. Alex reached behind him for the door handle when he heard a footfall outside. The door slammed into him and sent him flying in the dog’s direction. Coffee flew out of the cup as he tumbled onto the pillow where the big dog had been lying just seconds before. He curled up in a ball and waited, certain Cujo wouldn’t appreciate a stranger in his bed. Cool air drifted over him from the open door.

“What are you doing?” Sera’s voice was calm.

She probably didn’t want to further excite the dog. Feeling a breeze, Alex peeked through the crook of his elbow. Inches from his face, a fluffy white tail waved back and forth. “Protecting my vital organs.” When the tail continued to wag, he pushed himself upright and leaned against the wall. Pink tongue hanging out, the dog appeared to be smiling as he stared up at the young woman.

Alex was awestruck, his focus rooted to the woman who’d pushed through the screen door. Her yellow hood was pushed back, revealing dark, curly hair caught up in a high ponytail. Black ringlets caressed her cheeks, pink from exertion.

Her face flushed and dripping water, Sera covered her mouth with her hand as she looked down at Alex. “Good idea. Quick thinking, in fact.” She grabbed the dog on either side of the furry neck and spoke in a firm voice. “Cujo, not food. Not food. Outside.” She opened the door and the dog trotted outside. “There, you’re safe.” At the same time a mottled gray dog about half the size of the Saint Bernard appeared from the hallway.

Alex wondered if he had just been made a fool of but decided as long as the monster dog was outside he didn’t care. The gray dog appeared harmless. Rising from the pillow, he eyed the coffee leaving a dark stripe down the flowered wallpaper. “Sorry about your wall.”

Pulling two towels from a drawer, Sera handed him one and then, wiping her face with the other, moved to the stove to exchange a few quiet words with her great-aunt. Alex thought he heard a chuckle from the older woman, but it may have been a cough. He wiped the spilled coffee first from the wall and then the floor.

“Here you go, young man.” A big smile on her face, the older woman set a plate where he had been sitting before the dog woke up.

Three eggs and at least six strips of bacon. “I don’t usually eat this much for breakfast.” He glanced at the older woman, who still wore the wide smile. He could only guess she was happy to have someone to cook for.

With a chuckle she refilled his cup. “You’re a growing boy. Eat up, son.” She glanced behind him. “You deserve it after the morning you’ve had.”

Just as he lifted his cup to his lips, the gray dog stuck his nose between his elbow and his waist, jiggling the full cup. “Ouch.” Hot coffee soaked through his clean jeans. He grabbed the towel and pressed it to his thigh.

Sera rushed over and grabbed the dog by the collar. Meeting his gaze for just a second, she smiled. “Lucky, stop that.” Sera coaxed the dog to the pillow by the rocking chair, where Lucky rested his head on his paws, dark eyes darting between the woman and the man.

Sera pulled the yellow poncho over her head and hung it on a hook behind the door. “Maybe we should get you a travel mug, Mr. Kimmel. You’re having serious coffee issues this morning.”

Alex looked around the big kitchen for more pillows. Just the two. Biting off half a piece of bacon, he threw Sera a long look. “Have I met all your animals?”

Before answering, Sera poured a cup of coffee and then turned and leaned against the counter. “You’ve met both of my dogs, but not all of my animals.” She brought the cup to her lips. “Did you sleep well?”

He swore her eyes—he couldn’t decide if they were blue or green—had twinkled, and he feared she had something else up her sleeve. He refused to give her the satisfaction of showing his concern. “Like the proverbial log. Is the bridge still flooded?”

“Too foggy to see.” She grabbed the last piece of bacon from his plate and sat opposite him.

He scowled at his plate. “I should call Cy. I have a lot of work to do. The sooner he can pick me up, the easier for everyone.”

“Work? I thought you were visiting your relatives.”

He decided to ignore the comment. Pulling his phone from his pants pocket, he pressed a button. Nothing. He stood and walked over to the window above the sink. Then he turned an eye on Sera. “Don’t tell me. No cell towers around here.”

“Oh, we have cell towers.” She crossed her legs and smoothed the fabric of her sweatpants as if she were wearing linen trousers.

Holding the phone closer to the window, he tried again. Still nothing. He fixed her with a stare.

Holding the cup to her lips, she shrugged. “But we’re in a bit of a dip here. If you want a signal for your cell phone, you’ll have to walk up to the orchard on the hill.” She gulped her coffee and sighed, as if her job were done.

Clenching his fingers around the cell, he glanced down at the screen, which displayed a photo of the Brooklyn Bridge. Somewhere he wished he were at the moment. Anywhere, as a matter of fact. The Golden Gate Bridge would do, as well. Any bridge. “So no contact with the outside world.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sera walked over to the back door and held out both hands like a model on a game show. A phone hung between the door frame and the cupboard. She picked up the receiver. “You’ve heard of landlines, I presume.” She dialed a number.

Alex walked back down the hall, leaving Sera to make arrangements for someone to pick him up. If he stayed in the kitchen one minute longer with the monster-truck-driving madam, he feared he might rip the phone out of the wall in frustration. And then she would sic the dogs on him and he would be history. He stared out through the glass panels flanking the front door to the lane they had driven down the night before. For the first time, he noticed two horses in the front pasture. They would probably turn on him as well, stomping him into pieces in the dirt.

“Alex. Your cousin wants to talk to you.” Turning away from the grazing animals, he looked down the dark hall. Sera’s head peeked around the corner. She held out the handset, connected to the wall with a curly cord.

He walked back past the photos and took the receiver from her hand. “Hello?”

“Hey, cuz. How was your night?” Cyrus’s deep voice echoed through the phone. If Alex didn’t know better, he could swear his cousin sounded amused.

Turning his back to the kitchen, Alex stretched the cord into the hallway. “Listen, whatever this favor is, it better be quick. You’ve already used up most of your quota. She wrecked the truck last night. Among other things. I’m lucky to be alive.”

Cyrus laughed. “Where’s the truck?”

Alex held out the phone and looked at the receiver, unable to believe his cousin’s question. “Where’s the truck? How about, am I hurt?”

“Obviously you’re not hurt, or we wouldn’t be talking. Where’s the truck?”

“Not far from here. You’ll pass it when you come to pick me up.”

“Well, that’s the thing. See, the bridge is still flooded, and I can’t come get you unless I go way out of my way. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time.”

Alex smacked the wall with his fist and then winced at the pain. “I wanted to stay in a hotel in Shadow Falls in the first place, but you insisted I—”

“Whoa, fella. Settle down. By staying at Sera’s—I already asked Sera if you could stay another night and of course, being the nice person she is, she said yes—you can do me a favor while you’re there.”

Summoning what patience he had left, Alex was reminded that Cyrus was indeed Jean’s son. The two could talk your ear off. Funny how easily his cousin had slipped in the news he wasn’t coming to get him. “You’re the one who suggested I stay with you while I’m working on the theater mall project. You said we could get reacquainted.”

“I did. I do. And we will. But I want you to look over Sera’s farm and give me a fair market value. So this little twist of circumstances works to my advantage.”

Alex turned. Sera stood at the back door, hands behind her in the pockets of her jeans, her hair curling as it dried. He lowered his voice. “She’s selling you her farm?”

“She is. She just doesn’t know it yet. One way or the other, Last Chance Farm is going to be mine by the end of the year. And you, my favorite cousin from the big city, are going to help make that happen.”