Timber Creek

Page 29

“You, too.” She stole small kisses along his jaw. “God, Eddie, you, too.”
He pulled from her in disbelief. His heart was punching against his chest, but he had to ask, “You have?”
“I did. I have.” She looked as frustrated as he felt. “But you were so damned stupid in high school. I wanted you, but you never asked me out.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. “I was totally in love with you in high school.”
“You were a jerk.”
He pressed his body against hers and gently raked his hands through her hair, cradling her head close against his chest. “Not anymore, Laura. I swear. If you still want me, I’m all yours.”
Twenty-two
“Finally,” Helen murmured, seeing Laura walk in the front door. And what was with the dopey smile?
Laura’s eyes found her instantly. “There you are, Helen.”
There she was? She’d been trying to call the girl all morning. When Laura finally got around to answering, she was the one who’d acted put out. She’d been out at the old Timber Creek ranch…of course. She seemed to make a hobby out of pestering poor Eddie. She’d invited these television people and then proceeded to take off, running around, waving her petitions, hounding Eddie, flittering around, doing whatever it was she did. Laura got to be free and easy, so busy keeping herself fit and pretty, while most days all Helen felt was used up.
“I’ve been here all—”
“Hey, Dad,” Laura greeted her father at the end of the bar. “I take it that’s the window?” She stormed to the shattered window and torn screen, and Helen heard her mutter, “Of course he couldn’t deal with this.”
Helen followed her. “Your film people broke it with their microphone pole.”
“It’s called a boom,” Laura said distractedly.
Fine. “Your film people broke it with their boom.”
“They’re not my film people.” Laura rounded on her. “They’re here for the whole town.”
Helen could only shrug at that. She didn’t care who they’d come for; all she knew was they were about to be the straw that broke her back. They disappeared during the day, but mornings and evenings they crawled all over the place, making themselves at home, ordering her around, asking for things way outside her normal responsibilities…would she order pizzas, find them duct tape, buy the woman a box of tampons, for goodness’ sake.
She studied the window—didn’t seem like such an emergency, really. “Can’t we just tape it up till it gets fixed?”
“No, we can’t just tape it up.” Laura looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “We have people filming here.”
“Can Hope help?” Their new girl had yet to prove her worth. She was book smart, sure, but she seemed pretty helpless when it came to simple day-to-day chores.
“Where is Hope?”
“I haven’t seen her.” She already had three kids to keep track of—babysitting new employees definitely was not in her job description.
The Bailey girl exploded into action, calling back to the kitchen, “Hey, Sorrow. We’ve lost Hope.”
The Kidd sisters sat at a nearby booth. Pearl turned and said, “You can’t lose hope, dear.”
Laura looked like she was strung tight enough to snap. “But she hasn’t—”
“Not that kind of hope.” Helen patted the woman on the shoulder, feeling glad to have Laura’s laser eyes shifting off her back for the moment.
Understanding registered in Laura’s eyes. “Oh. Hope is the name of the new girl,” she told Pearl, using a louder, slower, talking-to-senior-citizens voice.
“We’re old,” Ruby told her. “We’re not deaf, dear.”
Helen would bet money that the younger of the two Kidd sisters was, in fact, quite deaf. She hid her smile as she went to grab the pitcher to refill their waters. A few decades ago, those women could’ve given someone like the Bailey girl a run for her money.
Pearl smiled blandly. “I’ve always thought Hope was a lovely name.”
“Is that the plump girl?” Ruby asked.
“She is not plump,” Helen chimed in, feeling a bit put out. Just because those women were skin and bones in their orthopedic sandals gave them no right.
“And Faith,” Pearl said, still in her own thoughts. “That’s another pretty name.”
“You talking about that Hope girl?” Bear swiveled around in his seat. “Sure seems plump to me.”
The man next to him at the bar elbowed him. “Gotta have something to hold on to.”
“Prudence is pretty, too,” Pearl continued, “though you never hear that anymore.”
Ruby leaned in. “Do you remember Prudence Jacobson?”
Pearl gasped. “Scarlet fever took her.”
“Such a tragedy.” Ruby clucked.
A man at the end of the bar chimed in, “Are you kidding? Hope is hot.”
Pearl nodded. “If you mean the plump girl, she’s lovely.”
Ruby pitched her voice loud for her sister. “She’s not plump, dear.”
Laura gave a funny little aggravated cry. “Would you all just—” There was a buzzing, and she slid her phone from her jeans pocket to check it. She made a weird face, then tucked it back away. “Dammit.”
It was the third time since walking in the door that Laura had screened a call, checking the ID, then letting it go to voice mail.
It didn’t bode well for Helen. Were the Baileys hiring her replacement, and Laura didn’t want to field the call in front of her? Or, had Laura met someone? Was that where she’d disappeared to this morning? A man would take the girl’s mind off things for a while…until it went south and she took it out on them.
She couldn’t resist probing. “New boyfriend?”
Laura’s head shot up, and her deer-in-the-headlights expression made Helen think for a moment she’d hit the nail on the head, but then the girl waved it off. “No, it’s a work thing.”
“A tavern thing?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice even, while inside she cursed because, dammit, Laura was looking to replace her.
She should’ve known. Lately, the woman had watched her every move, acting like she was just waiting for an excuse to chuck her out the door. And with Rob more remote than ever, she was in a panic about it.
If her husband was sleeping around…Her stomach churned at the thought. If he left her the way she feared he might, she’d need some way to support her family.
Jobs like this didn’t exactly abound in a town the size of Sierra Falls, and what else was she qualified for besides waitressing and tending bar? It was all she’d ever done. She supposed she could drive all the way to Silver City for work, but then who’d help with the kids?
“No,” Laura said distractedly, “it’s my old CEO from San Francisco.”
It took her a moment to register the reply, and then she exclaimed, “Oh!” It hadn’t been tavern business. Her job was safe. For now. “You mean your boss from your old company?”
“Yeah, he’s called…” But then Laura seemed to tune in to just who she was talking to. “Never mind. We’ve got to deal with this window.”
She was busy, not stupid. “I went ahead and put a call in to Eddie,” she said, but then paled to see the girl’s strange reaction.
Stupidly, she hadn’t considered Laura’s hatred of the guy. At the time, all she’d thought was how she didn’t want to be phoning Jack, a married man, so she’d just called the other Jessup instead.
Helen cringed. She’d messed up now. She wanted to rail at Laura to grow up, but she needed to play nicey-nice if she wanted to keep her job. “Sorry, I guess I should’ve called his brother.”
“No. Eddie’s…” And then the woman went and blushed. “Eddie’s good.”
Holy cow. There was no explosion. No bitching. The girl actually blushed.
Helen was treading dangerous personal territory, but curiosity got the better of her. “I thought you hated Eddie.”
“I don’t hate Eddie,” Laura snapped. “I’ve never hated Eddie.”
What was the saying about protesting too much? She just shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
Laura sharpened her eyes and crossed her arms at her chest. The bitch was back. “So, table four? You are on the clock, right?”
“Sure thing, boss.” She forced a smile on her face. Nicey-nice.
She’d been avoiding table four. June Harlan lunching with Jack Jessup’s wife, Tina. But Laura was right, it looked like their iced teas needed freshening.
She shuddered to think what they might be talking about, heads leaned close together like that. Every time she approached, their voices got louder and their faces brighter, like they’d only been chatting instead of doing the gossiping she suspected they were doing.
June’s husband ran the hardware store and was Rob’s boss, so they probably had plenty to jaw about where she was concerned. Had Rob’s mistress ever been in to see him at work? Maybe that was where he’d met her.
Maybe she was here even now. Frowning, she scanned the room as she went to the bar to grab the pitcher.
Billy had come in, headed straight for Sorrow in the kitchen, and she overheard them back there. Sorrow was teasing, something about being bad and needing a patdown.
It was the last thing she needed to hear. Her morning coffee sloshed in her belly, sour and burning. If only she had a reliable man, it would all be so much easier. The Baileys thought they had trouble—one broken window, for God’s sake—but she could school them on trouble. Trouble was her middle name.
She refilled the tea pitcher, wiped her hands on a rag, grabbed a fresh bowl of cut lemons, and headed back to serve June and Tina.
If Rob was getting it on the side, it was only a matter of time before he kicked her to the curb. And if her husband left, there’d be no meeting anyone for her. No nice sheriff would ride into her life. She could always try that Internet dating stuff, but what man out there wanted a woman with three young kids?