by Mary Brady
Fred sat at a table with several other smilers and greeters, whom she suspected might be the regular crowd, including one very elderly gentleman with a bright purple cast on one arm. Another breakfaster grinned, a middle-aged woman who could have been in a black-and-white western, inclusive of a checked apron, large girth and a pleasant, friendly face. The other three at the table were of varying age.
“Good morning, Al.” She sat down across the table from the contractor, feeling as though she had run the gauntlet, unsure how she felt about people she didn’t know calling her by name. Smiling was okay, but acting as if they knew her… A little creepy perhaps.
“Good to see you again this morning, KayLee.”
Or she was being impracticable. It was a small town, after all, and the grapevine in St. Adelbert must be a thriving one.
As soon as she sat down, a waitress with a name tag that read Vala swept up and handed her a menu. “Orange juice or milk, honey?”
KayLee smiled in spite of the waitress’s obvious familiarity with her condition. “Both, please.”
Vala nodded and flitted away.
The table was set for five and before she and Al were able to start a conversation, a man and a woman came around the table to the two empty seats near KayLee, smiling, of course.
“Hi, KayLee. I’m Rachel Taylor and this is my husband, Jim,” the dark-haired, middle-aged woman said and sat in the chair next to KayLee.
“I’m pleased to meet the two of you.” KayLee shook the woman’s hand and then the man’s. Rachel’s husband looked to be an amenable person. He was mildly paunchy and had barely any hair to speak of.
“We own Taylor’s drugstore, down the street. We’re all excited about the project at the Doyle ranch. Oh, and there’s John Miller.”
Rachel pointed at a tall, thin man—probably well into his seventh decade—approaching the table at a purposeful clip.
“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” KayLee said as the man with the near perfect eyebrows approached. A good barber or was he born with it?
He grinned at her and took a seat. “You catch on fast, but please call me John. I figure we’ll be meeting a lot in the next several months. Hardware emergencies seem to crop up all the time when there are buildings going up.”
“Or not going up,” Rachel said and everyone laughed as if there was history to the comment.
Al leaned toward KayLee. “A reference to the new community center we’ve been planning for how many years?”
“Four,” John said as he perused the menu.
When John was finished speaking with the oh-so-efficient Vala, the conversation ranged from the design dispute over the community center to the local sights, including a lovely and secluded waterfall, to people’s families. Somehow, thankfully, the table talk always managed to come back to the construction project at the ranch.
“Those Doyles are all such nice people. Why, Baylor used to be one of our volunteer firemen.” Rachel seemed like a healthy branch of the grape vine.
Jim leaned in toward Rachel and did a stage whisper. “Firefighter, Rache.”
“Anyway, we can hook you up with any safety equipment and supplies you might need.” Rachel added more sugar and stirred her coffee. “One of Jim’s hobbies, so to speak, is to find vendors who give the best bang for the dollar.”
Jim leaned toward his wife. “Buck.”
“What?”
“Bang for the buck, Rache.”
Rachel laughed with a touch of bawdiness. KayLee liked it.
Breakfast dishes had been cleared away, and KayLee was about to excuse herself to get started on some of the wants and needs on the Doyles’ list when a couple entered the diner. Soon elbows and whispers were engaged until everyone paid attention to the couple who walked in arm in arm.
Apparently, lots of interesting activity for the diner today.
“The Dawsons,” someone said with a touch of awe.
KayLee found her own jaw dropping. The woman was the epitome of statuesque with more than her fair share of glistening blond hair and a figure most women would like to have even for just one day. She was gorgeous, and the man, dressed all in black, was equally good looking, but seemed like a no-nonsense local rancher.
Her previous life was peppered with such women, but how did one end up here?
“That’s Cole Dawson and his fancy New York model wife,” Rachel Taylor said in a whisper louder than KayLee was comfortable with.
“I thought she left town,” Jim Taylor said in low tones.
“She’s come back to try to talk him into coming to live in New York. I heard he said New York was no place to raise their daughter, but I think she only asked so she wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving her kid behind.”
“Rache!”
“Oh, hush. It could be true,” Rachel said to her husband.
KayLee watched the couple as they made their way to the table and wondered if she and Chad had looked that mismatched.
Or if she would ever find anyone who matched her and if she did how long it would last. She and Chad had thought they’d last forever. The couple by the window, almost glaring at one another, probably thought they would last, too.
KayLee leaned toward the others at her table. “I do need to go. I have a lot of work to do.”
She told them all how pleased she was to meet them, and she was, and how very much she anticipated working with them, and she did. Then she rose from the chair and made her way to the cash register.
KayLee held cash and the breakfast check in her hand while Vala finished filling the large takeout cup for her.
“They aren’t who you think they are.” The voice came from one of the counter stools. “None of them are.”
KayLee realized the man was speaking to her.
“Excuse me?” The Dawsons? The townspeople?
“Yeah, I’m talking to you.”
KayLee recognized the smell of last night’s alcohol. He must have drunk so much he could not yet be considered sober.
The man who sported untamed curly red hair and a well-worn suit coat continued. “You should leave while you still can. The rest of us are stuck here.”
“Hush, McCormack,” Vala said to the man, turned then to KayLee. “Pay him no mind.”
“Those Doyles think they’re better than the rest of us,” the man continued in spite of Vala’s admonishment.
When KayLee tried to ignore him, he tugged on her arm. “Especially that Baylor Doyle, he went and got himself educated and he can’t wait to leave.”
“Please, have some manners,” KayLee said as she removed his hand from her arm.
“All Baylor wants to do is get his family off his back and he’s leaving this place behind. We should all leave this piece of—”
“Michael McCormack, leave her alone.” A woman’s quiet authoritative tone from behind KayLee commanded the red-haired man into silence. He snapped to attention and then hunched over his breakfast without uttering another word.
KayLee faced the woman. She was tall, with shoulder-length brown hair, and a white lab coat sticking out the bottom of her heavy winter coat.
“We’re friendlier than that, really,” the woman said and thrust her hand out. “Hi. I’m Maude DeVane.”
“Good morning, Dr. DeVane.” Vala held a cup in each hand. “How’s that little one of yours?”
“She just started walking and she looks more and more like her cousin Lexie every day. All those red curls.”
Vala smiled at both of them and handed a cup to KayLee. “One decaf and one regular,” she said as she handed the other to the doctor.
KayLee held up her decaf in a salute. “I believe you are friendlier than that.”
Dr. DeVane smiled.
“Thought I’d get that up front,” KayLee continued. “Because I hope you’ll be my doctor while I’m here in the valley.”
“I’d like that, especially since you’re all my patients want to talk about today.”
“Oh, my gosh.”
“Not to worry. It’ll wear off soon. Don’t hesitate too long behind the green-bean display at the grocery store, though. You’ll hear more than you ever wanted to hear about yourself.”
“Green-bean display?”
“Kind of a local gossip hub. Call the clinic and set up an appointment. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you.” She handed Vala cash, smiled at KayLee, bade them goodbye and headed confidently out of the diner without giving Michael McCormack another look.
Rachel Taylor approached and explained. “That’s Dr. DeVane.”
“Yes, we introduced ourselves.”
“This one—” Rachel stopped and pointed at Mr. McCormack, who was still busy with his over-easy egg dripping yolk all over his fingers “—will do what she tells him. She stood up to him alone in her clinic late one night. Brave lady.”
“It was good to meet you, Rachel, and thanks for the info about the safety supplies.” KayLee smiled again.
She wasn’t all that comfortable with gossip. Yes, where she had come from people thrived on talking about people and especially loved being talked about. No matter how much they protested, their careers were made because they could generate buzz about themselves, but she always preferred to stay with Chad behind the cameras.
It definitely didn’t comfort her, though, to have her vague suspicions about the people around here revved up by a drunken man.
She hurried out into the street. Were these people what they seemed?
All Baylor wants to do is get his family off his back and he’s leaving this place behind.
Was anything the red-haired man said true, or even have a grain of truth to it?
KayLee started back down Main Street toward the Easy Breezy Inn. If the plans needed to be revised based on the new requests Baylor had given to her yesterday, she needed to get them completed before she ordered supplies.
She hadn’t gone another ten feet when a pair of women rounded the corner at the end of the block across the street. One of them pointed in her direction and then they crossed at the town’s one stoplight and made a beeline directly toward her.
Run away was her first thought.
Okay, KayLee realized she was being paranoid, as she had been in the diner when most of the people knew her name and a drunk tried to chase her out of town. Put like that it sounded as if she might have reason to be cautious.
The two women closing in on her could be on their way to breakfast, and instead of pointing at her, maybe the woman had pointed at something behind her.
Of course, that was it. She had to stop thinking she was the center of the world, and get over herself.
These were only people.
Nonetheless, as the women approached, she had to stop herself from fleeing in the other direction.
The two women weren’t smiling, but they weren’t exactly frowning, either. They seemed very determined and they were close enough now for her to see they had gray hair, but older didn’t mean harmless.
She squared her shoulders. Not to be more cynical than your average Californian—only they called it worldly—she might soon find out what this town’s über-friendliness was all about.
Maybe they were after her money.
Surprise! She didn’t have any.
When the determined looks on the women’s faces tipped decidedly to the friendly side, KayLee found herself expelling a breath of nervous anticipation. She wouldn’t exactly consider herself timid or easily frightened, at least not before she had become a mother-to-be, lost her husband and faced the prospect of a new job in a new state or starvation or living with her mother.
Okay, she could do this.
Bring it on, ladies, she thought and squared her shoulders as Dr. DeVane might do under the circumstances. If they were space aliens, she’d deal.
The determined pair stopped a few feet in front of her and grinned.
Sure they would. Didn’t all axe murderers smile at their victims.
“Hello.” KayLee smiled.
The two women in their late sixties appeared to be sisters.
“Good morning, Ms. Morgan,” said the one in the rose-colored hat.
Sure they knew who she was.
“Good morning, ladies.”
“Holly Doyle called us and told us we should find you and meet you because you’re going to be our new tenant,” the other woman, the one in the turquoise-colored hat, said.
“Holly did? Hmmm.” The Doyle women probably already have a place in mind for you to live, Baylor had mentioned. This might have been really scary if she were still in California. Still, it was a teensy bit. “Well then, we’d better get acquainted.”
The two women’s grins seemed to spread completely across their faces, lighting them up from the inside out. “We’ll walk you back to the Breezy and talk on the way if that’s all right with you.”
“I’m Cora,” said the one on her right, a five-foot-four-ish woman with gray hair, gray eyes and a knit cap that matched her turquoise-colored coat.
“And I’m Ethel,” said the one on her left, a five-foot four-ish woman with gray hair, gray eyes and a knit cap that matched her rose-colored coat.
“You’re sisters?” A rhetorical question about the two peas in a pod.
The women looked at each other and then back at KayLee. “We’re friends,” Cora said.
Not sisters? Okay, KayLee thought. There’s a story there, but it might be too early to talk about such things.
“The Breezy is nice enough for a few nights, but there’s only that tiny table for you to do your work at,” Ethel said as she started the group moving toward the inn.
“Holly said we shouldn’t pressure you, but we wanted you to know you’d be comfortable living in the apartment on the second floor of our house,” Cora continued. “It’s the whole second floor with a separate entrance, so you’d have some privacy and it’s furnished, including linens and everything you’d need in the kitchen. Washer and drier in the basement, too.”
“And a clothesline out back if you like that kind of thing. Lots of nice neighbors, too, and we love babies.” Ethel bobbed her head as she spoke, as if to lend credence to her words. “Just ask Sally Sanderson—we’ve seen to each of hers from time to time.”
“All five.” Cora again from her right.
“Wow. That’s a lot of children.” KayLee thought people in California moved fast. These ladies had already gone from housing to childcare and they’d walked less than a block. For someone who liked to think she could figure things out for herself, this was a tiny bit disconcerting.
“She’s the best mother around,” Ethel said, interrupting her thoughts. “Sally Sanderson is. Almost lost one of her little ones a couple years ago. Never gave up hope, though, not for a minute. Best kind of mother a child could have.”
“I hope I can say the same about me someday.” What was it about these people? They scared her, but she could tell them anything. That kind of thinking did not help abate the uneasiness, the feeling that she was falling down the rabbit hole and there was no way to stop, only hints that she should not even try.
“Time will tell, dear.” Cora patted KayLee’s shoulder as she spoke. “Now, we know you will be very busy. If you take the apartment at our home, you’ll have an office and a nursery.”
“And we can provide some of your meals if you’d like.”
“That would be fantastic,” KayLee said. If Cora and Ethel cooked half as well as she’d imagined…she’d end up a blimp, that’s what. A happy blimp stuck at the bottom of a rabbit hole.
“Certainly, you’ll want to see the place first and there’s no pressure.” Ethel grinned. “Except what you put on yourself when you realize it’s the best place in town. Obviously, you won’t have to do any yard work or snow-shoveling or anything like what you’d have to do if you rented a house.”
When a nervous laugh caught in KayLee’s throat, she coughed to cover her unease. Even though they walked haltingly down the street, these ladies took her breath away. Caut
ion. Caution. This town could still have some big hairy secret that she should be running from.
“Oh, we’re rushing you, aren’t we, dear?”
“Well, to be honest, yes.” KayLee knew she was probably nuts and these women were as nice as they seemed.
“Take as long as you want.” Ethel touched her arm briefly. “The place is available anytime. We don’t usually rent it out except to people we know.”
“But you don’t know me.”
Cora laughed. “We know you well enough. The Doyles hired you, after all.”
“We make it our business to get to know people.” Ethel grinned.
Was that a maniacal grin? “Okay.” Now it was time to run. Tabloid reporters had hounded her after Chad’s accident and she didn’t like it at all.
“But we won’t bother you if you don’t want and if you ask us not to tell something,” Cora said hastily, “we won’t speak a peep.”
KayLee halted in front of the motel and thought about her lonely room. Do or die. Dive-in or run-away time. “When might I see the apartment?”
She could always flee later before they trapped her and locked her away in the basement. Great, now she was making up B-movie plots in her head.
The friends stopped. Each turned to face her.
“Now if you’d like,” Cora said.
“Or later today or even tomorrow, if that’s better,” her friend-but-not-sister offered.
“I do need to get out to the Doyle ranch. I told them I’d be there early this afternoon.” And it would give her time to think about the offer of a place to live.
The women nodded.
“Well, we’ll let you go. Here’s all the information you’ll need to contact us.” Cora handed her a sheet of paper with their names and contact info.
KayLee suppressed a smile when she realized the sheet was addressed to her personally and contained a list of references, including Sheriff Potts and the Doyles. The references usually went the other way around where she came from. Busy women, indeed.