The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  "Oh, look. Roses. Eric, they're beautiful. What's the occasion?"

  "I thought the flowers might make the house less empty."

  "Thank you. How did you get them here?"

  "Well, to be honest, I'm relieved to see them inside. I should've asked Carole or Phyllis to meet the driver. It looks like one of them must've been here when he arrived. Something smells great."

  Emma and Eric headed for the kitchen where they found a freshly baked loaf of pumpkin bread under a clean, white, flour sack towel.

  "It's still warm. I wonder who made this. Wow. I'm really overwhelmed. Roses and dessert for me? Why don't you stay, Eric? I don't mind your uniform. Do you know a good pizza place in Buffalo Jump? Does the town even have one?" Emma asked.

  "As a matter of fact, it does. I'll call while you get settled." Eric said. He'd memorized the number, which appeared in large digits on the front of the pizza parlor where he'd been staked out. Then he saw a note from Carole on the counter and called to Emma in the bedroom.

  "There's a note here from Carole. She hopes you'll enjoy the bread," Eric said.

  Emma walked into the kitchen and then turned on the light beside the door from the kitchen to the garden. "I wish it was still daylight. I've been dreaming of this garden for months. Guess it'll have to wait until tomorrow."

  "I'll be free tomorrow night, unless you have other plans," Eric said.

  "Phyllis said something about a Halloween party at the high school. She and Carole are on the committee, I think. I thought I'd drop by," Emma said.

  "Actually, it's a community party. The adults have as much fun as the kids. I worked security there last year. It was great. Everybody stayed sober and nobody caused any trouble," Eric said.

  "Fine with me. I wanted to spend some time here and at my father's office tomorrow. So going out tomorrow night will be perfect."

  Eric removed his duty belt and necktie and followed Emma to the front door to pay for the pizza. She was digging in her handbag and asked Eric what the pizza would cost.

  "This is on me," he said.

  "You're a guest in my house. I should get the pizza," Emma insisted.

  "I would've taken you out for a nice dinner if I didn't screw up and wear this uniform," he said.

  Emma opened the door and asked the delivery boy to come inside.

  "Hey, Deputy K, I didn't know you lived here." The boy gave Emma the pizza.

  "I'm visiting, Deet. How's business tonight?" Eric asked.

  "Slow, man. Thanks for the tip." Deet grinned as if he and Eric shared a secret.

  Emma set the pizza on the kitchen table and began opening drawers, looking for a pizza cutter. "This smells great. I haven't had pizza in a while," Emma said. She did not find a pizza cutter, so Emma sliced through the pie with a sharp knife from a rack on the counter. Then she looked in the refrigerator for a soda.

  "Would you rather have a beer? There's a couple in here," Emma said.

  "Soda's fine. I still need to drive home."

  "Do you have far to drive? The snow was sticking in the yard," Emma said.

  "Maybe it's a freak blizzard. I could be snowbound here for weeks." Eric laughed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Emma lay in bed Saturday morning and pretended to snuggle with Eric. With her eyes closed, she visualized his face and imagined her pillow was his shoulder. He'd forgotten his tie. She'd folded and placed it in the pocket of her nightgown. She held the tie to her face and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent she associated with him. She'd set the alarm for seven and reached over to shut it off a few minutes before so it would not destroy her mood. She got out of bed long enough to move the thermometer switch upward until the furnace kicked in and then propped the two pillows behind her head. While she waited for the house to get comfortable, Emma thought about the previous night.

  She'd lied to Eric, saying she did not see him in the airport. The truth was she'd seen him as she descended the stairs. He was talking to the man next to him and didn't see her duck behind an obese passenger and scoot to the restroom. After enjoying Thursday evening with Jack Hennessey, Emma was not looking forward to spending time with Eric. She was surprised at her reaction when she saw him. He was still attractive to her. She needed time to be alone. How could she be attracted to two men at the same time?

  Eric Knudsen could not have been more unlike Jack Hennessey. Jack had traveled the world. He was more sophisticated. Eric was the boy next door. His golden good looks were appealing in a wholesome way. Jack was less open. She was drawn to the mystery. Jack was beginning to show gray at the temples, but Emma found that attractive. Both men were handsome, smart, kind, and independent. Her experience with each man was the same. How would she ever choose between them?

  Emma pushed Eric's tie into her pocket and thought about Jack. She got out of bed, slipped into her robe and pretended she was with him again. She remembered how he'd opened her door and taken her hand when she emerged from the rental car. He made a point to introduce her to his friends at the party. She thought of him in the glow of moonlight as they danced outside the lavish home of his friends, who were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. That meant they were married, with Jack as best man, when she was five. She waltzed around the bedroom and into the kitchen singing I've Got a Crush on You. Jack requested the song and then asked her to dance. While they danced, she was reminded of the couple in Renoir's painting. It was as if her fantasy had become reality.

  Emma sighed and turned her attention to the pumpkin bread. It was even more delicious than falling in love and less complicated.

  While sitting in the sunny living room, Emma located Carole in her contacts.

  "Good morning, it's Emma. How are you?"

  "I hoped you'd call. Are you up for the Halloween party tonight?" Carole asked.

  "Eric's taking me. We'll probably see you there. Thank you for making the house so welcoming. The pumpkin bread smelled wonderful. It tastes so good I can't leave it alone," Emma laughed.

  "Phyllis did the grunge work, cleaning windows, and I got to do the fun stuff," Carole said.

  "Well, you both outdid yourselves. I'm having apple slices and peanut butter for lunch," Emma said.

  "Is the creamy all right?" Carole asked.

  "Emma thought for a second. "Oh, the peanut butter? Definitely. I like both, actually," she said.

  "You won't be bored all by yourself today?" Carole asked.

  "No. It's been a hellish week. I want to spend some time in the house and office this weekend. I've been wondering how I'd like it here in the winter. But I'm looking forward to seeing you tonight. I'll be ready for company by then," Emma said.

  Emma stopped at the Buffalo Jump Inn on her way to her father's office. The umbrellas were folded and stored, leaving the tables looking stark and cold. The building seemed dreary against the overcast sky. There were no baskets of flowers, but Phyllis decorated with orange and black Japanese lanterns on the deck. A cardboard cutout of a witch greeted Emma when she entered the lobby. Phyllis was behind the desk with her back to Emma.

  Emma tapped the bell on the counter. "I'd like to rent the Rankin Suite."

  Phyllis did a half turn, saw Emma, and left her printer to give Emma a hug.

  "Emma! It's so good to see you. Welcome back."

  "It's good to be back." Emma said.

  "Was the house okay?" Phyllis asked.

  "Yes. Thank you so much for your work over there. Carole said you cleaned the windows. Everything sparkles."

  "I enjoyed it. I'm still kind of raw about, you know, losing your father. Can I get you a soda or something?" Phyllis asked.

  "Thanks. I'm good. Trying to watch the calories on this trip. Eric and I ordered a pizza last night and listened to some record albums. My father had an amazing collection," Emma said.

  "I'm glad to hear you like the records. I was afraid you'd give them to a thrift shop," Phyllis said.

  "You and Carole will have first choice of anything I
don't keep, but I think you better plan on the three of us sharing stuff. He had such good taste. I'm not going to get rid of any of it," Emma said.

  "So what's on the agenda this weekend?" Phyllis asked.

  "I'm taking some time to be sure the house and office still feel right. I'd need to keep both places if I move here. And I need to spend some time with Eric. We're going to the Halloween party tonight."

  "Oh, that's great. You'll have fun. It's probably a little tame after living in Denver, but it pretty much brings out the whole town. I'm in charge of the apple bobbing. Be sure you don't leave without one of Minnie's candied apples. The sheriff's department was in charge of the haunted house this year. Should be great."

  "I'm really curious now. We'll look for you there. I better let you get back to your copies. Are you wearing a costume tonight?"

  "The Pillsbury Doughboy. That way I can eat all I want and no one will notice." Phyllis laughed.

  Emma turned up the thermostat in her father's office and then walked to the new coffee cart between the office and courthouse. It looked like an earthbound tree house and was called Crockett's Coffee Cabin. The young man at the window was wearing a coonskin cap and a leather jacket with fringe on the sleeves. Emma wondered if he was dressed for Halloween. She ordered a latte venti and asked the barista how long the business had been there, if he did a brisk business on court days, and how late he was open. She was surprised the cart was well-stocked, and the latte was perfect. "This is very good. I'm Emma. My father was the only lawyer in town until he passed away recently. I don't suppose your name is really Davy Crockett."

  "Yes, Ma'am. I plan to get even with my folks by never giving them grandkids." He laughed. "It's been a pain in the…it's been a pain my entire life, but doing this is more positive than complaining," he said.

  "Good attitude. Do you go by Davy or Dave?"

  "Most folks call me DW. My middle name is Winchester." He laughed.

  Emma returned to the office. She unwrapped a slice of the pumpkin bread. She broke off bite-sized pieces, alternating between the bread and the latte, while watching snowflakes float like goose down past the window. She'd been afraid her memories of Harold's office were fond deceptions in the midst of the Denver hustle. The easy summer days had turned cold and gray. It was comforting to know she felt the same about the place now.

  Still, she knew she would miss Denver. Not only was the area beautiful with the same kind of outdoor activities as Montana, but Denver also had museums and events supported by an affluent urban population. She lived there a long time without taking advantage of most of the activities. When she was in school, she didn't have the time or the cash required. Now she had the cash and could make the time, but her friends either were married and unavailable, or were single and broke. Emma was not fond of crowds, but she did enjoy knowing she lived in a place others found attractive. Her friends would never understand if she moved to Buffalo Jump, Montana.

  The post office forwarded Harold's mail to Emma in Denver. She brought a few of the letters with her so she could access the corresponding client files. Several of her father's clients whom she'd met at his funeral wrote to Emma in care of his office. They expressed the hope they would not need a lawyer but also encouraged her to take over Harold's practice.

  That was another complication. Emma was on the verge of accepting a position as a lecturer at the law school in Denver. She couldn't make up her mind whether to lecture on the law or enter a mediation practice. Those choices wouldn't be available in Buffalo Jump. She enjoyed the law in and of itself without any consideration of prestige or financial compensation. She did not enjoy the adversarial aspect of the law. While she enjoyed friendly competition, she did not believe in winning at all costs. She knew nasty arguments were counterproductive. Working in Buffalo Jump would keep her advocating for others, but it would probably be less combative. On the other hand, teaching would be her ticket out of the trenches altogether.

  Emma was faced with tough choices and no clear answers. Should she move to Buffalo Jump, forget Jack Hennessey, and practice law? Or should she return to Denver, forget Eric Knudsen, and teach? It was a dilemma. In each case, forgetting a man she found attractive made the choices impossible.

  Emma was looking through a cabinet Harold kept in the bathroom of his office. She found the key in his safe after taking another look inside to be sure she was not leaving something important undone. Her father was very organized, but it seemed he could not throw things away. He kept boxes of file cards with notes about his strategies in various cases over the years. Emma left the cabinet when she heard someone at the office door.

  An elderly man tapped on the door with his cane. Emma opened the door and invited him inside. The wind blew snow and cold through the door with him. He brushed the snow off his shoulders and removed his cap. Then he brushed it against his leg to remove the snow. The cold air had turned the man's pale cheeks red. He removed his glasses, which were foggy, and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief he'd fished from his pants pocket. The lower lids of his eyes sagged as if they'd stretched. The cold caused his eyes to water, and tears spilled over the sagging lids, coursed down his cheeks, and were trapped by his grizzled beard.

  "Please come in. I'm Emma Favager. My father was the only attorney in Buffalo Jump until he passed away last summer. Can I help you?"

  The old man dropped into one of the chairs in front of the desk.

  "Are you all right?" Emma asked.

  The man nodded and struggled to get the words out. "Can't…get…my…breath."

  "Would you like some hot coffee? I could be back in a flash," Emma offered.

  The man moved his head slowly from side to side. "No…thank…you," he said.

  "You shouldn't be out by yourself on a day like this. Did you walk very far?" Emma asked.

  The man again moved his head slowly from side to side. Emma knew it would not be possible to have a conversation with him very soon, so she sat down behind the desk.

  "Take your time. I'm not doing anything important today. I enjoy spending time in my father's office. He was a wonderful man. Did you know him?" Emma asked.

  The man nodded. "Good…man…Harold," he said.

  "Is your family in town?" Emma asked.

  The man shook his head slowly from side to side.

  "Do you live alone, then?" she asked.

  "The man nodded."

  "I'll work on my computer here while you catch your breath. Let me know when you feel like talking," Emma said.

  Emma found her father's desktop folder with the forms he used most often and browsed through it while stopping from time to time to glance at the man in front of her. Then she saw the man's head had dropped to his chest. He appeared to be breathing, but his breathing was shallow. She was debating whether to call 9-1-1. She thought the man might have fallen asleep. Feeling indecisive and helpless, Emma was relieved to see Deputy Knudsen at the office door. She waved him inside.

  "I'm so glad you're here. This gentleman came through the door, short of breath, and now he's sleeping. It seems he has no family and lives alone," Emma said.

  Eric laughed. "This is old Mr. Kearney. He lives with his son and daughter-in-law over by the high school. They called our office to look for him. He's been wandering a lot lately," Eric said.

  "How'd you happen to look for him here?" Emma asked.

  "Welfare check," Eric said.

  "You were worried about my welfare?" Emma asked.

  "No. Mine. I couldn't wait to see you." Eric laughed. "I better get him home. They're pretty worried." He gently shook Mr. Kearney and said his name. The old man looked vacantly around the office, at Emma, and at Eric. "What the hell am I doing here?" he asked.

  "You went out for a walk, Mr. Kearney. Your son is worried about you. I'll drive you home, sir," Eric said.

  Emma held the door open for them. Eric helped Mr. Kearney to his feet, put one arm around him, and helped him down the walk outside the office. Eric maneuvered the o
ld man into the cruiser and gave Emma a thumbs-up.

  The experience touched her deeply. She realized Harold might have been like Mr. Kearney if he'd lived a little longer. She was glad she was at the office that day. If she hadn't come back to Buffalo Jump, the old man would have continued to wander and might have succumbed to the cold. If she was not there, Eric would not have come by for his "wellness check" or found Mr. Kearney. Emma believed all our lives are connected, and we touch each other in many ways we'll never know. Her pragmatic side told her it was a happy accident. The small voice that sometimes spoke to her at times like this told her it was more significant.

  Jack Hennessey kissed the young woman goodbye. "I'll see you when I'm back in the states," he assured her.

  The woman was a few years younger than Emma, wore a formfitting black top with scooped neck, several colorful, beaded necklaces and black leggings under a multicolored skirt. "How long will you be gone this time? Will you be in New York for Christmas?" she asked.

  "You should be used to this by now. I probably won't know until the last minute," he said. He bent to kiss the child with her.

  "Bye-bye, Papa," the little girl said.

  "I'll bring you something nice from London," Jack promised.

  Jack began walking toward the concourse for the London flight, ducked around the corner of a Cinnabon, and waited until the woman and her child disappeared into the crowd. Then he walked in the opposite direction, boarded a Lufthansa flight, and made a quick phone call.

  Emma was shutting down her laptop when her cell phone rang.

  "Hi, Jack. This is a pleasant surprise. Are you still in Denver?"

  Jack's voice was breathy and seductive. "I'm on my way to Paris. The seat next to me is vacant. I wish you were in it."