Morgan

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Morgan Page 3

by Chris Keniston


  Like recruits following orders, everyone nodded and disbursed. He’d only served a few years in the Corps, but long enough to know his aunt would have made one heck of a drill sergeant. He had no doubt she’d be the kind of leader whose troops would march into hell and back for her. And why not? Not a single member of the Farraday clan, himself included, wouldn’t do the same.

  At the other end of the café, Joanna was up on her feet, a toddling little boy gripping one finger of each of her hands waddled a slow step at a time in front of her. Judging by the huge grin on her face, she was enjoying the little stroll as much as the adventurous little boy.

  Not far behind her, the blonde stood watching the two. Her smile was wide and sparkling, and made her eyes twinkle with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but whatever it was, it made her seem much happier than she had in the hallway.

  Ryan’s voice rang clearly across the café. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Neither had Morgan. He assumed Neil would be going on the weekend trek with his other siblings. Rather than catch up to Joanna, he veered right toward his brothers.

  “I guess you’re not joining the guys this weekend?” Ryan already had one hand on the front door handle ready to make his escape.

  Hat in his hand, their brother Neil shook his head. “Heck no. With all of you armed and shooting, I figure I’d be safer in Texas.”

  “You can say that again.” Morgan slapped his youngest brother on the back. Ryan was actually an excellent shot, all the brothers were, but at a hormonal thirteen years of age, Ryan had suffered the misfortune of letting the sight of Mary Lou Keller in her new bikini distract him. Instead of emptying the chamber when putting away his gun, he’d put a hole in the water heater and flooded the ground floor. Of course Ryan would be old and toothless some day and his brothers would make sure he never forgot. “Besides, I wouldn’t object to an extra pair of hands.”

  Neil nodded. “I figured as much. As soon as I heard Ryan was coming home for the weekend, my coming to visit for a few days seemed like a pretty good idea.”

  “Neither one of us figured on Abbie’s kitchen shelves falling over and bringing most of the wall with it.”

  Eyes rounded, Neil’s chin lifted, pointing in the direction of the kitchen doors. “Anyone hurt?”

  “Nah.” Morgan shook his head. “Just a few dented pots.”

  Just then the kitchen door swung open wide and shoving her long sleeve up one forearm, and then crossing to do the same with the other, Aunt Eileen brushed dust from her hands before waving them at her nephews in a hurry up shooing motion, and then, without a word, turned and stomped back into the kitchen.

  “Looks like Aunt Eileen is in drill sergeant mode.” Neil hung his hat on the nearest hook.

  “Say hello to Uncle Morgan,” Joanna coaxed Brendan. Coming to a stop at Morgan’s feet, the little boy threw his arms up.

  “Nice to see you partner.” Morgan was all set to tickle the baby when Brendan spotted Neil and flung himself in his uncle’s direction so hard Morgan almost lost his grip. Toddlers sure came with an awful lot of momentum.

  “Whoa, partner,” Neil huffed as he caught the energetic little boy.

  Brendan put a flat palmed hand on both of Neil’s cheeks and began to pat and giggle. Another second and his uncle’s face forgotten, Brendan was equally absorbed in the striking blonde female face captivated by the interaction.

  Morgan had to hand the kid one thing, he certainly had good taste.

  Chapter Three

  Oh, how lucky could a girl get? Valerie nearly squealed with delight when the handsome cowboy who caught her eye turned out to be another Farraday. So all three brothers were hunks. That barometer in her gut that always came to life when a brilliant idea was taking form had gone from measuring keen possibilities to screaming blockbuster probability.

  The toddling nephew threw his arms at her, and so engrossed in the thoughts rattling around in her mind, she almost didn’t catch him. “Oh, you are a handful.”

  “Sorry about that.” Tilting Brendan upright and fully into his own grasp, the third brother flashed a mind-numbing smile. “I’m Neil Farraday. Excuse this fellow’s brazenness. He clearly has good taste.”

  “Valerie Moore. No apologies necessary. The attraction is mutual.” She held her arms out, and with a big grin connecting chubby cheeks, little Brendan flung himself once again in her direction.

  The sound of a definitely male voice clearing his throat drew her attention away from the baby boy.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Morgan Farraday.”

  The timbre of his voice sent tingles to her toes. She imagined if warm thick honey had a sound it would be this man’s voice. “Nice to meet you. Again.”

  A soft, lazy smile centered a dimple on each cheek. Grin firmly in place, Morgan turned to face Joanna. “Jamie was wondering if you would mind taking Brendan over to Meg’s to play so Jamie can help with the clean up.”

  Joanna pressed her lips tightly together and whispered, “I’m in the middle of—”

  The baby cooed merrily in Valerie’s arms and grinning, she turned to Joanna. “We can finish our conversation later on. I’d be happy to help entertain this fellow.”

  “We could go to the park,” Joanna suggested.

  Brendan turned and frowned at her as if he’d understood the conversation and objected to her plans.

  “Or not.” Joanna laughed.

  “Or not,” Valerie agreed. “I think he likes all the people here.”

  “If you’ve got this,” Morgan took a half step back, “I’ve got to run to the B&B and pick up some material.”

  Shucking out of his jacket, Neil rolled up his sleeves. “I’m ready to start pitching in.”

  “You’re in construction as well?” Valerie was counting her lucky stars until Neil shook his head.

  “Not exactly.”

  Morgan waved a thumb at his brother. “He’s the pencil pushing end of the business.”

  “Accountant?” Valerie wondered if there was any way to spin accounting into dreamy.

  “Architect. I do all the design work, but don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

  Already two steps closer to the front door, Morgan skewered his brother with an impatient glare. “Planning on handing out resumes?”

  “No.” Neil winked at Valerie and hurried off behind Morgan. “Talk to you later.”

  There was no denying those were two fine looking men. Especially her electrician. The pencil pusher had a killer smile that could make any woman lose her trend of thought, but something about the electrician drew her in and wouldn’t let go. Clearly all the brothers were cast from the same mold. Tall, dark and dreamy. All good things for reality television stars. And if the rest of the pieces to her idea fell into place easily, her career was about to get a whole lot better. Shifting the baby higher on her hip, she faced Joanna. “Tell me more about this ghost town.”

  “No one would ever know that just a few hours ago this kitchen looked like a war zone.” Hands on her hips, Abbie nodded her approval.

  “Paint is still damp, but we didn’t want to wait till morning to install the shelving.” Morgan wiped his hands on an old rag and shoved it in his back pocket. “Now all that’s left is to clear this stuff off the floor before someone trips over a stockpot and breaks their neck.”

  “We can handle that.” Frank the cook set a plate with his popular meatloaf dinner on the shelf for the waitress to pick up, and stepped away from the stove. “I’ve been meaning to rearrange that shelf ever since it was installed and there’s no time like the present to take care of it. I think Abbie would agree with me if I said you guys deserve a tall beer.”

  A nice cold beer after a hard days work was a definite perk to visiting with their Texas family. After all, no one in Oklahoma owned an Irish pub. “You sure?”

  “Positive.” Frank slapped Morgan on the back and waved an arm toward Neil cleaning up some tools by the slop si
nk. “You guys have done your part.”

  Standing with the stack of dinner plates in her arms, Abbie crossed the kitchen to set them on the shelf.

  “That goes for you too.” Frank moved the pile to a new spot on a different shelf. “It’s quitting time for all of you. Donna has been here for 20 minutes. All of you, get out of my kitchen.”

  Morgan had the unexpected impulse to salute the cook. Instead he settled for a simple “yes sir.”

  “What did I tell you about calling me sir? I ain’t no officer.”

  Abbie winced silently, and Neil shook his head. Morgan knew better, but some habits were hard to break.

  “Come on guys, he’s right. Finn probably has a couple of pub chairs with your names on it and I have a little boy waiting for his mama. Let’s get out of here.”

  It hadn’t taken long to pack up the last of their tools and agree it made no sense at this hour to head over to the B&B, so a quick beer before heading out to the ranch it would be. And apparently they weren’t the only ones with that idea. In a back corner with barely enough light to see your own nose, Aunt Eileen and the ladies afternoon social club had set up another poker game.

  “There you are.” Aunt Eileen waved them over. “One last hand, then we’ll be on our way home. I’ve got a pot roast in the slow cooker.”

  Of its own rude volition, Morgan’s stomach rumbled. Not till the words pot roast were mentioned did he realize how hungry he was, nor did he remember that he had skipped lunch.

  As Morgan and his brother pulled out a couple of chairs at the table next to their aunt, Jamie set two beers down in front of them. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what y’all did today.”

  “You make it sound like we single-handedly built Rome in a day.” Neil snagged the longneck beer bottle and tipped it at his cousin. “Thanks.”

  “You might as well have. You don’t know what it was like rehabbing this place on something close to a schedule. If you two weren’t in town, we would have done it ourselves. It would have gotten done,” he stared at them pointedly, “but not as fast or as well as you guys did it.”

  “You’re welcome.” Morgan tipped his beer bottle at his cousin with the same gesture of thanks his brother had.

  From the opposite side of the pub, Joanna exited the hallway. A time or two this afternoon on his way to get something from his car, Morgan had noticed Joanna and her friend were still at the café. The last time he stepped outside to ask Abbie about the paint, he noticed they were gone and couldn’t help wishing it hadn’t been such a hectic day. When the blonde woman had bumped into his ladder he’d been slightly disgruntled at her not seeing him. After all, how does a person not notice a six foot ladder with a six foot man standing on it? By the time his gaze landed on her, disgruntled was the last thing he’d felt.

  “Who knew a ten month old could have so much energy?” Joanna collapsed in the seat beside him.

  His gaze drifted to the hall, anticipating another person following his cousin-in-law, and hoped the disappointment didn’t show when he gave up and turned back to Joanna.

  “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t spent time with all the little ones, but usually it’s just for a few minutes here and there. Half hour tops. I don’t know how people do this all day every day for…”

  “A couple of decades,” Neil filled in.

  “Well.” Joanna reached for a cola Jamie had dropped off. “I don’t think even the most devoted mother would be that attached to her child for that long.”

  “Not according to my mother.” Neil shrugged. “Small children little worries, big children big worries. She went from worrying if we’d fall down learning to walk, get hurt playing football, meet the wrong kind of girl in college, or find the right wife. She likes keeping tabs on her sons no matter how old, though by now she’s probably willing to marry us off to a Lucrezia Borgia wannabe if it meant she’d get grandchildren.”

  “Yep.” Morgan agreed. That pretty much summed his mother up in a nutshell. The woman was a perpetual worrier. She would miss the sweet scent of a rose worrying about a thorn. Roses brought his mind back to the blonde. His gaze drifted over to the hall and back.

  “Don’t you think?” Joanna stared at him, expecting a response to something, but what?

  Neil shook his head and chuckled. “Don’t mind him, he has the attention span of a gnat.”

  “I do not.”

  “Okay fine.” Neil sat his bottle down on the table. “What do you think then?”

  Morgan really hated when one of his kid brothers got the best of him. He turned to Joanna. “I’m sorry. What?”

  Lips pressed tightly together, she giggled momentarily. “Revitalizing Three Corners.”

  Oh, he really must have missed a good chunk of conversation because he had no idea, even with the hint, what she was talking about.

  A beacon of daylight shivered through the open pub door, and Joanna sat up straighter. “Here she is. She can tell you more about it.”

  Morgan and Neil both pushed to their feet.

  “Please,” Valerie smiled, “sit back down.”

  Both Neil and Morgan grabbed the back of the chair between them. Morgan tugged a fraction harder than his brother and gestured with his free hand for Valerie to take a seat between them.

  Chairs scraped against the hardwood floors as Aunt Eileen and her friends pushed away from the table. Collecting their plastic winnings, the women hugged and talked, and one by one waved goodbye and made their way out of the building. Aunt Eileen stopped at the table and dragged a nearby chair closer. “Nice to see you again. Valerie, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” The woman smiled.

  “Joanna was telling us you have a new idea?”

  “I do.” Valerie leaned forward in her chair and faced Morgan and his brother. “And it involves both of you.”

  Back in her room she’d done a little research on the former town of Three Corners. The only current record of ownership was one property to a limited liability corporation, Sisters’ Parlor, and as far as Val could tell, the rest of the town belonged to no one.

  “Ever watch any of the fixer upper shows on television?”

  Joanna groaned. Somewhere between babysitting and French fries, Joanna had mentioned her maiden name was the same as the popular home remodel television show host and the occasional challenges it had brought her.

  “Sorry.” Val flashed an apologetic smile.

  “Mom loves those shows,” Neil offered, but neither of the brothers seemed to react much beyond that. “But what does this have to do with us?”

  “Well.” She debated laying all her cards on the line now or perhaps the drip method of information might be more successful. “They’re very popular. I’m a television producer of reality shows and I have networks wanting me to do a new home reno show.”

  All pairs of eyes remained fixed expectantly on her.

  “I want to rebuild Three Corners.” She leaned back in her chair and waited for the response.

  The only person to perk up was Eileen. “Really? Rebuild as in restoration or a new Vegas strip?”

  “While a new Las Vegas has some great potential, I only produce rehab shows.”

  “Ooh!” Eileen slapped her hands together. “This could be fun.”

  “And that,” Valerie pointed at Joanna’s aunt, “is the reaction I’m hoping to get. But before I pitch it, I could really use a bit of professional input. After all, many an old structure—and the money invested—could come tumbling down with a strong wind.”

  “Not Sadieville.” Referring to the town’s once popular nickname, Jamie stopped at the table to check for empties. “That place is solid. I helped the sisters do some sprucing up at the Parlor and it surprised the heck out of me that termites hadn’t taken up residence and turned the place to dust.”

  Morgan’s head turned ever so slightly. The wary look in his eyes was not a good sign. Obviously the drip was going to have to come very slowly.

  “I’ll have t
o come up with some catchy title for the show, but the gist of it is, bringing a ghost town back to life.” She’d mention the sexy cousin contractors later. “I want to talk to the sisters that own the Parlor House.”

  “That will be easy. Not only is the boutique just down Main Street, Sister and Sissy love chatting up new people.” Eileen nodded.

  “Sister and Sissy?” This town was the gift that didn’t stop giving. She really did need to meet these two women and see if they were as intriguing as their names. After all, quirky characters made TV shows hits. “But going to see the ghost town is my first step. Are you free to play tour guide tomorrow?” She looked at Joanna.

  The woman shook her head. “Not tomorrow. I have back to back video conferences scheduled starting at noon.”

  Val swiveled around to the two contractors who didn’t know yet that they were about to become television stars. “That’s okay. What I absolutely have to have, though, is a professional assessment. From licensed contractors.”

  Neil was the first to shake his head. Lips drawn in a thin line, Morgan slowly shook his head. “I have to get Meg and Adam’s place done. Sorry.”

  A phone rang and Eileen turned away from the table. “Hello. Oh hi.” Her forehead wrinkled and she looked to Morgan. “It’s Meg. She said you’re not answering your phone.”

  Morgan pulled his phone out of his pocket and shook his head. “Two missed calls but I never heard the phone ring.”

  “Is anything wrong?” Eileen asked into the phone. “Oh dear. I’ll make some of my grandmother’s chicken soup. That’ll make the little things feel better.” She nodded once, and then again, and one last time. “Okay I’ll tell him. Keep us posted and let us know if you need any help.”

  “Is something wrong?” Valerie asked.

  Eileen shook her head. “Not really, just a bit inconvenient. Seems Fiona is running a little fever. Looks like the guys are going to get the weekend off. She doesn’t want to give anyone whatever Fiona has.” The woman slid her phone into her pocket and turned to Val, a very slow sly smile creeping across her face. “Looks like you boys are free to assess a ghost town.”

 

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