“Have you spent much time talking with the customers? Getting their opinions?”
“Some. They’ve said the food just wasn’t the same. Claire, the ingredients are the same for each location. I’m mad and puzzled.” She thunked the mug down on the table.
“Oh gosh, it only takes a few people to complain, and business goes downhill. Maybe you need to have someone be a secret customer. If something illegal is going on, they could report it to Jason.” Claire leaned against the counter. “What do you think of that?”
“I think you may have something there. Maybe they’re being lax about cleanliness or maybe they aren’t following my recipes. I’ll have someone check it out soon. Maybe I’ll go myself. Thanks, you always did have a good head on your shoulders.”
They nodded at each other and slid more vegetables near. As it was so often with friends, Connie had come to help, but she was getting more than she gave.
By mid-afternoon, the potatoes and carrots had been prepared and were simmering on the big range. The cakes and a mountain of biscuits were covered with a cloth and placed high on a shelf away from little fingers. The kitchen table boasted a cheerful cloth and held jars of applesauce, jams, jellies, pickles, and relishes, all from Claire’s cellar.
Connie poked her head out the back door. The two older children played marbles on the wide porch. Andrew hunched over the game, doing his best despite the sling on his arm. In his good hand, a cobalt blue Bennington was squeezed between his forefinger and thumb. His tongue stuck out as he concentrated. Her heart tugged. Percy’s tongue had stuck out when he concentrated.
Claire stepped beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I think we’ve got everything under control if you want to freshen up a bit. Use my room. I’ve put a pitcher of water in there and a towel. You’ve got a bit of butter right here.” She wiped a finger over Connie’s cheek. “I’ll clean up after you. First, I want to check with Tom to see if the beef is ready. Our guests should be arriving any time.”
Connie turned. “The kids are filthy, but that’s all right. Andy is having such a good time, I think he’s forgotten about his wrist. He hasn’t complained all day. Thanks for having us. I’ve enjoyed getting away from Omaha.”
“Thank you. The chores went so much faster. Now get in there and pretty yourself up. Who knows who might be here tonight?” Claire’s mouth turned up.
Connie was struck with the idea that Claire had something up her sleeve. “What are you up to?” She could feel her brows lift almost into her hairline. “You aren’t playing matchmaker are you? Tell me right now.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Claire?”
Her friend grinned and pushed her toward the bedroom. “Not me. Better hurry. I hear buggies coming up the drive. Now scoot. I hope you brought a pretty dress to wear.”
Connie did bring a pretty dress. A dress she’d purchased a few days before Percy’s death. For almost two years, it hung in the closet while she mourned in widow’s weeds. A party was the perfect time to wear it. She could hardly wait to put it on, maybe even twirl around the makeshift dance floor in the yard.
She hurried out to her buggy and retrieved the linen-covered dress. Hanging it from a hook in Claire’s bedroom, she shut the door and lifted the cover. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. It was so beautiful, maybe the nicest dress she had ever owned. Shimmying out of her work dress, she turned at the sound of voices in the next room. The party guests were arriving.Tugging the silky gown over her head, she deftly fastened the dozen buttons down the back. The rich maroon glowed in the afternoon light. A scoop neckline, made modest with a wine-colored lace insert, showcased her slender neck. The skirts were full and flowing, the waistline snug and complimenting her figure. She smoothed the folds. Percy had always loved her curves even though she wasn’t as petite as Claire. He’d said there was more woman to love. Her eyes blurred at her loss, but she pushed the dark cloud away. Percy would want her to be happy. She finished adjusting her dress, unpinned her bun, and brushed out her long brown tresses. With a few sure twists, she pinned the shiny mass in a knot at the back of her head and peeked at her reflection.
Her eyes were bright with excitement, her cheeks rosy, and her skin smooth. The final touch was to pin a gold and amethyst brooch at her neck. Now, she was ready for the evening. She’d even take a turn around the floor if she could borrow Tom Maxwell. Claire wouldn’t mind.
Tom had gone all out for Claire’s thirty-fifth birthday. He’d hired a fiddle player and a banjo player to provide music and dancing—even a traveling photographer to take pictures to commemorate the event. All the food was ready and the house decorated with autumn foliage and bright orange pumpkins. They’d swept the front yard and set the tables with orange print cloths. Guests were told to bring their own chairs, and greetings rang out as she opened the bedroom door.
Claire stood in the kitchen, measuring fresh, ground coffee into an enormous pot. She turned, eyes lighting up when their gazes connected. “You look so pretty, Connie. Why haven’t I seen that dress before?” She reached for a pail of water, and Connie took it from her.
“I’ve had it for a while. It’s just that I haven’t had an opportunity to wear it. Today is a perfect day. I’ll take care of this, birthday girl. Your guests are arriving, and you’re still in your work dress and apron. I’ll finish the coffee and go round up the children. At the very least, I can wash their faces and hands. Go on, shoo!” She flapped her hand playfully.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Get changed and visit with your guests. I’ll grab Josie and Arianna when they arrive. They can help me serve, and we’ll have the menfolk slice and serve the beef.”
She set the coffee on to boil and stepped out on the back porch to round up Andy and the Maxwell kids. On the bottom step stood James Connor, a basket of pears in his hands and his eyes wide. Connie’s checks warmed as he stared at her.
“Hello, Connie. My, you look beautiful.”
“Why, thank you, Dr. Connor. I didn’t know you were coming today. You um...look nice too.” Her heart unexpectedly jumped a beat. At thirty-eight, James Connor was handsome—lean and elegant with silver strands sprinkled through curly brown hair, straight white teeth, and eyes as blue as a Midwest summer. She flushed from head to toe. The good doctor was dressed in a starched white shirt and dark blue trousers. The white shirt showed off the shiny curls, and the trousers deepened the blue of his twinkling eyes.
“I thought these pears might go good with dinner. I received them in trade and really can’t use a bushel of them myself. My housekeeper washed them, so they’re ready to eat.” He climbed the steps and handed the basket to her. When their fingers brushed, a shock skittered up Connie’s arm. She jerked at the tingle, and James blinked. His eyes darkened.
“Let’s try that again.” He placed his hand over hers, and it felt as if they’d held hands a hundred times. His grasp was warm and firm, closing around hers for a perfect fit.
Connie stepped back. It seemed so intimate, so personal, yet so innocent. She’d shaken hands with many men, but contact never felt like this. Never reached to her core. “I...I’ll take this into the kitchen.” She pulled away from James. “Claire will be glad to see them.” She whirled and stumbled through the door, completely forgetting about washing messy faces.
* * *
James stood on the porch and stared down at his trembling hands. He’d performed hundreds of procedures, hands steady as a rock, but looking at her made them shake. As a doctor, he knew about physical attraction between the sexes, had studied chemistry at length, and even counseled couples who were having trouble with intimacy. Never had he experienced such a strong visceral attraction to a woman. Not even to his former fiancée, Phoebe.
Since that broken engagement, he’d kept company with a few women, but nothing seemed right—no sparks, no zings, no connections, until his hand grazed Connie’s. He sat down hard on the porch steps. This would take some thought. He was tr
ained to research solutions, apply logic, but the answer to this wasn’t in any book.
He liked Connie Simonson, but everyone did. Part of her success as a restaurant owner rose from her bubbly personality. People were drawn to her, flocking to her place to eat delicious food and to feel better after a tough day. When Percy was shot in the line of duty, there wasn’t anything the town folks wouldn’t do to help the grieving widow.
But this spark between them wasn’t the ordinary sensation of one hand in another but a more primitive, more earthly connection between a man and a woman. He had to learn more about this woman. Not as a doctor, but as a man. Didn’t he? But old habits were hard to break, and he’d been alone for a very long time. Maybe he’d be better off by himself. That way, he couldn’t be hurt the way he’d been when Phoebe shunned him. His stomach knotted. He swallowed and shook his head. Was Connie worth the risk?
* * *
The party got into swing about five p.m. Nearly thirty guests crowded into the Maxwell yard and house, talking, laughing, and eyeing all the delicious food. Connie, overjoyed at seeing Claire’s friends surrounding the birthday girl, helped make everyone comfortable and welcome. The day cooperated with a brilliant blue sky and a gentle breeze. It was all the more special because exactly one year earlier, a blizzard had struck twenty-four hours after a sixty-degree day. Weather on the prairie could change in an instant.
Frontier life was rough, especially for women running households, raising children, and working in the fields. But today was a rare chance to relax, celebrate a birthday, and enjoy being with friends. The musicians played a lively rendition of Turkey in the Straw, and a few spirited couples danced in the yard.
Connie stood on the front porch, taking a breather, a mug of tea in her hand. Tom Maxwell had corralled fathers and sons for a three-legged race. Her heart dropped. Andy stood on the outer fringes of the crowd, shoulders drooping. Should she go over and stand with him? Propriety and her long skirts kept her from running with him. She stepped forward but paused. James Connor knelt next to Andy. Her breath caught in her throat.
* * *
James bent down and tied his right leg to the boy’s left. “Okay with you, Andy? I didn’t have a partner and thought maybe you’d run with me.” Truth be told, his heart cinched at Andy’s sad face.
The youngster nodded vigorously, brows pinched together. He glanced down at his bandaged arm. “But my wrist? Ma will get mad if I get hurt again.”
“We’re running with our legs,” James teased softly as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Besides, if you fall, I’ll fall too. I’ll be right there to help you up. You’ve got a doctor tied to you.”
Andy looked down at the rope binding them. “Yeah, I guess she can’t fuss about that.” He turned his face to James, and his wide grin tugged at the man’s heart again. This is a good boy. Connie’s doing a fine job raising him. He should have a father. James swallowed. Phoebe hadn’t wanted children. Said she was done cleaning up the messes that bodies made. He’d agreed, trying to keep her happy. Now it dawned on him—he wanted children. For a long time, he’d been mad at God for not allowing him to marry. Now, he was glad he hadn’t.
“Just in case, we’d better ask her, Dr. Connor.” Andy interrupted his thoughts.
“Why don’t you call me Doc? Or James? That’s what my friends call me.”
“Gosh, really? Okay, James.” And together, they hopped over to the porch and asked permission of the woman with the soft brown eyes and grateful smile.
* * *
Connie laughed at the comical sight of James and Andy tied together and had no choice but to agree. Andy didn’t smile much, and neither did James. Though they bore no physical resemblance, the two seemed to fit pretty well. Just like earlier when he took my hand. We fit together too. What would it be like to kiss him? To see the sadness leave his eyes? The mug slipped from her hands and crashed to the porch floor, jolting Connie from her musings. She bent down to clear the mess, casting a side glance. No one noticed.
Don’t be ridiculous, you just feel gratitude for him remembering your son. That’s all this is. Go make yourself useful in the kitchen. You’re too old for romantic nonsense. You had true love with Percy. You can’t expect to have it again.
The three-legged race was a success but not for James and Andy. They stumbled every few feet, grinning all the while at the spectators who howled and laughed and jumped up and down for their favorite twosomes.
When the games were over, people gathered to eat. The fresh air, cool breeze, and sunshine, whetted appetites. Claire slipped into the kitchen to begin serving, but Connie beat her to it.
She stood in the doorway brandishing a large wooden spoon. “Now I told you,” she said with a cheeky grin. “Go visit with your guests, birthday girl.”
“But you’re my guest too,” Claire protested, hands on hips. “I can do this.”
“I know, but I’m a restaurant owner. I know how to serve people and do it efficiently. See? I’ve already cornered Josie and Arianna into helping. Now scoot.”
Sure enough, the two sisters were dishing up plates of sliced beef, carrots, and potatoes and handing them to the guests lined up out the back kitchen door.
“I’ve got more hot coffee going, and I poured fresh milk for the children. Your two little ones woke up a bit ago. Ginny was wet, so I changed her and handed her off to Billy’s wife. Richard is tagging along after Emily. That boy is crazy about his big sister. Your daughter is like a little mother.”
Claire lifted her arms and dropped them. “I give up. If this makes you happy, so be it.” She wagged a finger at her friend. “Just remember, when it’s your birthday, I’ll be the one running things.”
Connie smiled back. “Oh, that makes me nervous.” She waved the spoon. “Go on now.”
When the last person was served, Connie filled her own plate. The kitchen was warm, so she stepped out on the back porch to find a cool spot and keep an eye on the mob of children.
“May I join you?” James stepped up to her, holding his plate of food. “It feels a bit awkward that you and I are the only unattached adults here this evening. Perhaps we could share this meal.” His sky blue eyes were soft and yearning, his voice husky with uncertainty.
Connie nodded. “Yes, that would be nice. Shall we grab these chairs?” She lifted her chin in the direction of two rockers on the end of the porch.
”You know, I’ve been guarding these rockers for the last thirty minutes, hoping you’d come out. I felt like I was saving a favorite pew at church.”
She eased down into a rocker and balanced the plate on her knees. “Why is it that people always have to sit in the same pew every Sunday? It’s not as if God’s Word is different two rows back.”
“I’ve wondered that myself.” James smiled and took a bite of mashed potatoes. “Say, these are delicious. Just the way I like them—plenty of cream and butter.”
“Thanks, but it’s pretty simple, fresh ingredients right from this ranch. The carrots were grown here too. My mouth’s been watering from the aroma of this beef Tom’s been roasting all day.”
James cut into the slice on his plate. He lifted a bite to his mouth and chewed. A smile spread across his face. “You should try this. I have had steak in some fancy restaurants, but it didn’t compare to this.”
Connie cut a small piece and chewed it. She closed her eyes in ecstasy at the taste of the tender meat. “You’re right. This is delicious.”
A throat cleared nearby. The photographer stood beside his tripod at the foot of the porch stairs. “May I take your image sir, ma’am?”
They looked at each other. James nodded. “Please.”
The man took a few moments to position them in their chairs. Finally, he ducked under his covering. After what seemed hours of them sitting perfectly still, he backed out. “Thank you, folks. That will make a real nice image.”
Darkness had fallen over the ranch by the time the dishes were washed, the chairs put away, and Claire’s c
hildren tucked into bed. She and Tom were saying goodbye to the last of the guests as Connie wiped the counter in the tidy kitchen. She hung up the towel and turned to the back door. “Andy, let’s go. Andy, where are you?”
James hurried up the steps. “He’s asleep in your buggy. He and I were watching the stars from the porch, and he fell asleep leaning against me.”
“Thanks, James. He wore himself out today.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Truth is, I’m tuckered out too. I don’t know how I’ll get him up the stairs to our rooms.”
“Why don’t you let me follow you home, and I can carry him up for you. I’d hate for him to wake. At least his wrist doesn’t seem to be bothering him.”
She angled her face toward him. “It would be a lot easier. Are you sure you don’t mind?” She yawned and clasped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my, excuse me. I’ll say good night to the Maxwells, and we’ll be on our way.”
James rode his horse alongside Connie’s buggy on the short trip back to Omaha. Both were quiet, and Andy was sound asleep, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it felt companionable. She glanced over at the doctor who sat astride his horse as if it were a part of him. He was handsome without seeming to be aware of it, his lean frame so unlike Percy’s. Her husband had been short, stocky, and blond, with eyes that twinkled like stars. James’s eyes were a darker blue—the blue of a Nebraska autumn afternoon. She looked down at the reins in her hands.
Quit acting like a silly girl on her first buggy ride with a beau. He’s merely escorting me home to help with Andy. He’s looking out for the boy’s arm.
Back at the café, James eased Andy from the buggy and carried him up the staircase as though he weighed no more than a pillow. Connie followed behind, marveling at the strength in his arms. She was seeing him again as a man, not just the town physician. She liked what she saw.
Chapter Four
Christmas Bells (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Page 3