by Loree Lough
The instant he was out of earshot, Gladys leaned across the counter. “My, my, my. Your boy has expensive taste,” she whispered, sliding the tag closer.
His boy. Reece would never get tired of hearing that. He picked it up and read the minuscule numerals. “$375.98? You’re kidding, right?”
“I’ll have you know that set is crafted from .925 silver and set with genuine turquoise stones. A local artisan makes one-of-a-kind sets, so your wife will never run into anyone wearing anything like it.”
His wife? Weird. He liked the sound of that almost as much as he’d liked hearing “his boy.” He could blame his peculiar reaction on that whack he’d taken to the side of his head, looking for the source of a leak under the kitchen sink that morning. But how was he to explain how addle-brained he’d felt, sitting at Taylor’s kitchen table yesterday?
She wore jewelry like this all the time. Surely it wouldn’t take long for her to figure out that Eli couldn’t possibly have paid for the set on his own.
He’d barely signed his name to the credit card receipt when Eli returned. “Didn’t see anything I liked,” he grumped.
“That’s okay. You can make her a card,” Reece said. “She’ll like that better anyway.”
That put the smile back onto his face. And when Gladys handed him the pretty package, the smile grew wider. “So how much is it?” he asked, tapping the coins he’d laid out earlier.
Gladys slid them into her upturned palm, leaving one nickel and a penny behind. “There we go,” she said, dropping them into the cash drawer. “Thank you so much for your patronage, sir. Have a nice day!” And with that, she turned to the next customer in line.
“What’s patronage?” Eli asked as they crossed the parking lot.
“It means she knows a good customer when she sees one.”
“Oh,” Eli said. Then “Women sure are expensive, aren’t they?”
“Don’t I know it,” Reece said, laughing. “Don’t I know it!”
7
All the way from Reece’s townhouse to the Misty Wolf, Eli held the paperback-sized pink box in his lap. The way he’s hanging on to it, you’d think he was carrying a couple ounces of nitroglycerine, Reece thought, grinning into the rearview mirror. Something told him the boy would have been just as protective if the windows had been up the whole way home.
The instant he parked in his usual spot under the big oak that shaded her circular driveway, Eli unfastened his booster seat and climbed out of the car. “Meet you inside!” he yelled, running toward the house.
Reece chuckled as he followed in tiny footsteps. Even from out here, he could hear Eli, racing from room to room, calling Taylor’s name. When he stepped into the foyer a minute later, the excited chant told him that Eli still hadn’t found her. It was the very first time she hadn’t greeted them at the door. If he was disappointed about that, how must Eli feel?
As he hung the boy’s backpack from the newel post, as Taylor always did, Reece blamed her absence on Jimmy Jacobs. Mr. I’m-A-Famous-Singing-Sensation must have made a special request, and Taylor was trying her best to meet it. He put the now-empty cooler beside the sewing basket, which looked just as full now as it had on Friday night. And no wonder, with a trip into town and a demanding guest to pamper.
“There you are,” he heard Eli say. “I’ve been looking and looking for you everywhere!”
Her merry laughter echoed in the kitchen. “Sorry. I was in the basement, fetching light bulbs.”
“I thought we kept those in the hall closet.”
“We do now. But when Gran and Gramps owned this place, they stored just about everything down there. And the ones I needed were for that big chandelier in the front hall.” She glanced at the clock above the sink. “You guys are right on time, as usual.”
Reece could see that it was all Eli could do to keep his eagerness in check. “And bearing gifts,” he said, pointing.
Taylor stood on her tiptoes to look over Eli’s head. “What’s that you’re hiding behind your back, young man?”
“It’s your birthday present,” he said, holding it out.
Her hands were trembling—and so was her lower lip—when she accepted it. “You little sweetheart, you!” she said, kissing his temple. “But my birthday isn’t until next week.”
“I know, but you don’t have to wait until next week. You can open it now if you want to. You want to, right?”
“Are you kidding! Of course I want to!” she said, mussing his hair. “But I’m so excited that my knees are shaking like crazy. How about if we all go into the parlor, so I can sit. I’d hate to fall down before I even untie that pretty bow.”
A minute later, with Eli seated to her left and Reece on her right, Jimmy walked into the room, grinning like the Cheshire cat … until he saw Reece. “Hey,” he said, sitting in one of the wingbacks that flanked the fireplace.
“Hey, yourself.”
“Taylor is about to open the birthday present I got her,” Eli told Jimmy.
“But isn’t your birthday next week?”
It galled Reece that Jimmy knew the date, and he didn’t.
Taylor, thankfully, ignored the comment. “It’s almost too pretty to unwrap,” she said, carefully sliding the satiny ribbon aside. “Pink and green, two of my most favorite colors.” She handed the bow to Eli, gave the box top to Reece, and peeked under the cotton blanket that covered her present.
A tiny gasp escaped her lips as she held the necklace up to the light. Her voice—somewhere between a whisper and a sigh—wavered when she said, “Oh, Eli. It’s … it’s so beautiful!”
It was worth every penny he’d plunked down to see the look of stunned disbelief on Jimmy Jacobs’s face; clearly, the man understood that Eli hadn’t paid for the set all by himself. But it would have been worth five times what he’d paid to see Taylor’s reaction.
When she’d introduced him to the whole “visiting weekends” situation, he’d resented the intrusion into his “I’m in charge” world. Funny what an impact eleven short months could have on a guy’s outlook, because now, he planned his whole life around those weekends! Taylor had given him that gift, so if a box of overpriced trinkets could bring her this much joy … well, who could put a price on that?
Eli crawled over into Reece’s lap and put his arm around his neck, and from the corner of his mouth said, “I thought she liked it.”
He slid his arm around the boy. “She does,” he whispered back. “I’m sure of it.”
“Yeah? Then why is she cryin’?”
“Because,” Taylor answered, “girls are weird. We cry when we’re happy, and we cry when we’re sad.”
Jimmy added “And when they’re mad.”
“Or afraid,” Reece put in.
“Oh, brother.” Eli groaned and flopped off Reece’s lap against the sofa’s pillow-back cushions. “Guess that means when I grow up, I’m gonna be just like you, Jimmy.”
“Like me?” Jimmy chuckled. “What’s that mean?”
“A … um… .” He scratched his head. “What do you call it when a man never gets married?”
“A confirmed bachelor?” Taylor said.
Eli nodded. “Yeah. That’s it.” He shook his head. “ ’Cause I don’t think I’ll ever, ever understand girls.”
If that was the prerequisite, Reece thought, the human race would cease to exist. Fortunately, four-year-old boys don’t hold on to emotions—especially negative ones—for very long.
“So, are you gonna put it on or not?”
“Of course!” She made a few attempts at fastening the clasp, then groaned. “My hands are shaking too much to do it. But that’s okay. A T-shirt and jeans isn’t exactly the proper attire for—”
The look of disappointment on Eli’s face was enough to prompt Reece to get up. “Here,” he said, taking the necklace from her. “Let me help.”
Once she was on her feet, he stood behind her, praying as his thumbnail slid back the minuscule silver clasp that Jimmy wouldn’t se
e how badly his own hands were shaking. He dropped the pendant over her head. Over her gorgeous, shining, sweet-smelling blond curls. Snap out of it, you idiot, because you have an audience.
He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the tiny clasp grabbed the last tiny link. “There,” he said, exhaling a sigh of relief, “you are now properly necklaced.”
Taylor turned slowly, one hand covering the turquoise pendant, the other fluttering near her throat. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
Reece read the silent message transmitted straight to his heart by way of those enormous gray eyes: she was thanking him for helping Eli give her the gift, too. His ears felt hot and his palms went damp. If he didn’t get a grip, fast, that smirking cowboy would see him blush like a schoolgirl.
“I, ah, when we came in, I put your cooler beside your sewing basket. The Tay-ghetti was great, by the way. He talked me into warming it up for breakfast.”
“Breakfast! Oh, my goodness.” And laughing, she added, “I’m happy to hear you guys enjoyed it.”
“Speaking of the sewing basket, did you find any time for your project this weekend?”
“What project?” Jimmy wanted to know.
Taylor’s mouth slanted in a wry grin. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, pointing at Eli. Facing Reece again, she continued with “No actual sewing, I’m afraid, but I did get a lot of the prep work out of the way, thanks to my shopping spree in town yesterday. And now that I have all the supplies I’ll need, things should pick up speed… .”
She let her voice trail off, and he got the message, loud and clear: the project was a surprise and a secret. Something for Eli … or for Jimmy, he wondered. The question kindled the same smoldering resentment he’d carried after Dixie walked out on him.
He told himself that jealousy shouldn’t play any role in his relationship with Taylor. For a while, he’d done a fair-to-middlin’ job of pretending her merry laughter and rosy outlook didn’t drive him crazy. But then Eliot was killed, and Margo died, and his parents continued to put church folk ahead of flesh-and-blood kin. What a sorry state of affairs for poor Eli, Reece used to tell himself, with only the likes of him to call family. And then Taylor reminded him by way of her every-other-weekend plan that Eli had more than that … and so did he. So if this long-haired, tattooed crooner thought he could muscle his way in where he didn’t belong, for no reason other than a so-called friendship with Eliot, well, he had another think coming!
When he’d walked into the house earlier, Reece had pretty much decided to put off their scheduling talk for one night this week. But now? After seeing that territorial look on Jimmy’s face, Reece wished there was a legitimate reason for him to rent a room at the Misty Wolf, too.
8
After Eli’s bath, Taylor dressed him in his favorite pajamas. While Taylor puttered in the kitchen, Eli peppered Jimmy with questions about his assortment of guitars. Reece plastered a smile on his face and did his best not to yawn as the guy explained the difference between nylon and steel strings.
“Will you sing me that song,” Eli said, “about the lost kids?”
“ ‘Poor Babes in the Woods’? You bet!”
He picked up his Ovation and rested it on one thigh, and Eli—God love him—huddled up beside Reece.
Jimmy tucked a triangular pick between the tuning strings. “See, this is one of those tunes that sounds better if I use my fingers,” he said, producing a soft, full-bodied chord.
Reece had heard him sing before—just about every time he flicked on the car stereo. Much as he hated to admit it, the guy was good. Up-tempo or ballad, poignant or droll, his albums consistently climbed to the top of the charts. It would have been easy, giving credit for his popularity to savvy PR agents, his gifted band, or the skilled engineers in the sound booth, but hearing him live made Reece admit that a blend of raw talent and charisma rather than producer-tweaked studio recordings, explained Jimmy’s success.
The irony wasn’t lost on Reece when Taylor returned to the living room just as he started an equally sad song, this time about disappointment. Funny how things turn out, Reece thought, because except for wishing he’d been a better son, a more loving brother while he’d had the chance, he had very few regrets. His life was full, his work rewarding, little Eli happy and well-adjusted.
But if that was true, what explained the disquieting awareness that had settled over him lately, hinting that something was missing, something that not even the most extravagant material possessions had the power to lift?
Then Taylor took Eli’s face in her hands and got him giggling with Eskimo kisses. Watching the two of them—Taylor, mostly—gave Reece his answer: he had everything a man could want, except for being on the receiving end of love like that.
Suddenly, Taylor stood. “Put that git-fiddle away, Jimmy,” she said. “You almost made me forget about the sorbet I dipped up before I came in here.” She clapped her hands. “Into the kitchen, boys, before it turns it a soupy, syrupy mess.”
If she realized how much control she had over two grown men and the impulsive boy who instantly followed her, like fuzzy ducklings behind their mama, it didn’t show. And there, Reece admitted, was the difference between Taylor and women like Dixie.
An easy ambiance filled the room, and even with Jimmy over there, laughing at his own jokes and talking way too loud, Reece felt very much at home.
Eli carried his bowl and spoon to the sink, then climbed into Taylor’s lap. Knuckling one eye, he yawned. “Is it okay if Reece tucks me into bed?”
If the request surprised her, that didn’t show either. “Of course, it’s okay,” she said matter-of-factly.
So Reece got to his feet, scooped Eli into his arms, and headed for the back stairs.
“He’s really sleepy,” she said, fingers around an imaginary toothbrush, “so don’t let him forget.”
Nodding, he carried Eli to the second floor. It wasn’t until he reached the landing that he realized he’d never been up here before. “Where’s your room?” he asked.
And Eli showed him. “Taylor and I share this bathroom. It’s called a Jack and Jill,” he said, pointing, “because this door leads to her room, and that one leads to mine.” Giggling behind one hand, he added, “I wonder what goofy guy named it that.”
Reece glanced around the room. She’d done a bang-up job of keeping the place ruffles-and-lace free. The thick, fuzzy rugs scattered across tiny hexagonal black and white tiles matched the pale blue walls, and somehow, she’d found a shade of white that exactly matched the porcelain fixtures. Two toothbrushes hung in the ceramic rack beneath the mirrored medicine cabinet. “Is this one is yours?” he asked, pointing at the pink one.
“No way! Pink is for girls!” He stepped up onto a stool that said NOW ELI IS BIG ENOUGH! and grabbed the one with the Spiderman handle, and squeezed a dollop of blue gel onto its bristles. He spent all of a minute, scrubbing his teeth before rinsing the brush.
“Whoa there,” Reece said, turning off the water. “We’ve got to do a better job than that, or—”
“I know, I know,” Eli moaned, “or I’ll end up looking like that.”
He tapped the tennis ball, stuffed into the mouth of a red Solo cup. Taylor, Reece guessed, had drawn eyes and a nose, and made the two-inch slit that served as its mouth.
Eli plucked it from the cup, and squeezing it, made the mouth open and close. “If you don’t brush and floss,” he said in a falsetto voice, “you’ll end up toothless and mis’rable, just like me.” He put the ball back where he’d found it and snickered. “Don’t look at me … that was Taylor’s idea.”
“Well, she’s right, you know,” he said, trying not to chuckle. Leave it to her to come up with a nonbossy way to teach the boy about proper oral hygiene.
“I know,” Eli droned. Then he reloaded the brush, and this time, did the job properly. “After I say my prayers, will you read me Alexander?” he asked, voice muffled by the hand towel.
“Sure.” One of t
hese days, he’d get the hang of this bedtime prayers thing. Until then, he did his best to mask resentment against the parents who’d always been more interested in teaching village children to pray than their own. If that was an example of Christian love, they could—
“Dear God,” Eli began, “it’s me again, Eli Reece Bradley. From Blacksburg, Virginia, remember? I know it’s a little later than usual, but Jimmy was singing and Taylor made pineapple sorbet, and nobody can pass up a bowl of that stuff. So anyway, if my mom and dad are close by, please tell them I miss them very, very much. Especially Mom. But only ’cause I knew her longer. And better. On accounta Dad was away a lot, being a soldier.”
He opened one eye and whispered to Reece “Wouldn’t want to hurt Dad’s feelings, y’know?”
“No, you wouldn’t want to do that.” Mentally, he added another item to his “Reasons to Dislike Eliot” list: if the fool hadn’t always put his precious Marines ahead of everything and everyone else… .
“Thank you for my house and my toys and always having plenty of food to eat. God bless my horses—Millie and Alvin and Bert and Elsie. Bless Isaac and Tootie, and my teacher, Mrs. Cunningham, and my best-best friend Randy.” He paused. “If you get a minute, maybe you could maybe fix Randy’s legs, ’cause he’d really, really like to play Little League with the rest of us.” He gave a little nod, as if to confirm the request, before continuing. “God bless Jimmy and Taylor and my second-best friend, Uncle Reece. Amen.”
He scrambled into bed, then tossed back the covers and hung his legs over the side. “All set,” he said, handing Reece the storybook.
Laughing to himself, Reece turned to the first page and read, “ ‘It was bedtime. Chris and his father sat side by side on Chris’s bed—’ ”
“Just like we’re doing!”
“Yep.”
He looked into Reece’s face. “Do you think if my dad wasn’t in heaven, he’d read me stories, like you and Taylor do?”