by Lori Wilde
And she’d barely reinstated her friendship with Jake. Missing his presence in Falling Star, yes, but lonely for him? Absurd.
She had no intention of enduring the feeling until late afternoon when she’d start her shift at the diner. Examining her options, she decided that a person she wanted to get to know was Lilah Forrest, and she really did have a number of questions about the benefit.
She looked in her contact list, found the number, and dialed.
“Lunch?” Lilah said, sounding rushed but delighted after Abbie had introduced herself. “I’d love it. I need a break, too. You have no idea what it’s like around here in the mornings.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” Abbie said. “I babysat Rafe’s foster kids once years ago. Just two days, but when it was over, I went home, put my feet up, and didn’t move for another two days.”
Lilah laughed. “I’m amazed you survived at all. But back to the subject, lunch would be great. Let’s see, where should we go?”
Abbie actually giggled. Maybe she’d survive this low point in her life, too. “I hear great things about Jake’s Place,” she said.
“No kidding. Okay, see you there—when? Straight-up noon?”
“Perfect.”
It was early September, but the first frost had already appeared on the pumpkins, so to speak, and the air was pleasantly crisp. Just as Abbie reached for the door of the diner, a sparklingly pretty woman slipped up behind her, dressed in a blue turtleneck that matched her eyes. Abbie held the door open, and the woman smiled. “Since I don’t recognize you, you have to be Abbie.”
“Our minds were certainly running along the same lines,” Abbie said, following her into the warmth of the diner. “You must be Lilah. This is some town, right? To be able to recognize people by the process of elimination?”
Colleen bustled up to them, bearing menus. ‘Table by the windows?”
“Great. Thanks,” Abbie said.
“What’s your favorite thing here?” Lilah studied the menu, although she, like Abbie, must have memorized it.
“The chocolate meringue pie,” Abbie confessed, “but I guess I have to address the major food groups first.”
“Not necessarily.” Lilah gave her a mischievous look. “I’m discreet.”
“Unfortunately,” Abbie said, “I’m hungry enough to have both.”
“Me, too,” Lilah said, settling back with a deep sigh. “It’s bad enough now. When school starts next week, by the time I’ve done the get-off-to-school-do-you-have-your-homework-lunch money routine, I’ll feel as if I’d built a barn with my own two hands.”
“Omigosh,” Abbie said, “that time I babysat, I didn’t ask about lunch money.”
“I strongly doubt anybody starved,” Lilah said, and then added, “although the population at our house shifts constantly, so for all I know, some poor, starved boy wandered the wilderness for years eating fruits and berries, a pathetic bag of bones before—”
“Before Rafe found him and gave him his lunch money,” Abbie said. She really liked Lilah.
“Exactly,” Lilah said, “so back to favorite things, I’m almost evangelistic about the grilled cheese with bacon and tomato, and my absolute favorite dessert is the coconut layer cake, so whatever you order, I’ll match you calorie for calorie.”
“I’ve been watching barbecued brisket sandwiches pass by me for days,” Abbie said. “I have to have one, for old times’ sake.”
“With beans and coleslaw,” Lilah said.
“Of course. What’s a brisket sandwich without beans and coleslaw.”
“And cornbread.”
“That too. What am I doing?” she wailed. “I can’t afford a new wardrobe two sizes larger than the one I have.”
“Don’t forget the chocolate meringue pie.”
“Stop!”
Colleen appeared, not looking at all harried in spite of the fact that customers waited at the door, others had a finger lifted for more coffee, dessert, their check. “What’ll we have here?”
They got serious and gave her their orders. “How’re things going?” Abbie whispered to Colleen, “without Jake.”
“We don’t even miss him,” Colleen said as if she were reading from cue cards, then dashed to the kitchen like a rabbit on wheels.
“She’s lying,” Abbie said. “They miss him.”
“I bet it killed him to leave,” Lilah said. “He was pretty sad last night. I could tell when he called.”
“I’m sure he was. The funeral of a parent is always difficult.”
“Not that Jake would come right out with his feelings. You know how he is. Plus, he and his dad never spoke.”
Abbie wasn’t at all sure she knew Jake. She’d always sensed something secretive about him. For some reason, she suspected there was more to Jake’s attending the funeral than met the eye, but she didn’t know Lilah well enough to say so.
Instead, she changed the subject. “I’m already having a good time working on the benefit,” she told Lilah. “Jake’s dreamed up a terrific menu, surprise, surprise, and I’m working on a color scheme.” She reached into her handbag and brought out a folder. “I want it to be just perfect. Here are some samples…”
Throughout the lunch, she and Lilah discussed details and specifics of the fundraiser, but they also had fun. Lilah was easy to talk to and had a wicked sense of humor.
When she said goodbye, Abbie felt happy. Her move back to the valley was shaping up nicely. She had a salary coming in, a place to stay, and a volunteer job for as worthwhile a cause as there could possibly be.
7
During the entire drive to Dallas, Jake brooded over the reasons his father might have had for writing this bizarre clause in his will, leaving his son in Jake’s care.
It didn’t make any sense.
He reached the outskirts of Dallas and fought his way through sardine-can traffic to the funeral home where his father would be honored. Remembered, anyway. Jake couldn’t wait to see if anyone honored the old man.
After he parked in an overpriced garage, he put on his suit jacket and, properly somber-looking, entered the Sisters of Light Chapel of Rest prepared for anything except the possibility of missing a good night’s sleep at the Cottonwood Inn, where he’d booked a room at a price that staggered him.
He resented every dollar he’d spent on this trip, obeying the last command of a father who’d disowned him.
His mother’s dollars had opened the diner. She, at least, had realized at last that he wasn’t a bad seed, just a kid too long neglected, a kid who’d been given his freedom too early, before he’d had time to sort out what that freedom could do for him in a positive way.
Freedom and reckless behavior had been one and the same to him until the night he stole his father’s car and crashed it through the plate-glass window of a local shop, and for the first time in his history of petty crimes, his father didn’t bail him out. That’s when he went to the correctional facility, which was the best thing that had ever happened to him because he’d met Clint and Rafe there.
He entered the chapel, then halted when he saw the two closed caskets. Thomas Galloway had lived a life Jake knew nothing about. Maybe he’d changed. Maybe this new wife had been a gracious, warm, and loving woman who’d convinced his father to forgive his prodigal son.
He’d never know.
He recognized no one at the funeral, but he hadn’t expected to. He sat down in an inconspicuous spot and waited for the mourners Thomas Galloway and his new wife had thought of as family to fill the front rows.
No one filed in those front rows. No family? No one else, no one who understood what a normal family was like, who would welcome Lucas into their happy home?
The chapel was full, though. Business associates, almost certainly. Friends, probably. Bouquets packed the dais, topping and surrounding the coffins. A group of young women sat together, some of them crying. Friends of Celine’s?
The service began. The minister pontificated for a while about what a wond
erful wife, mother, and daughter Celine had been…
So where were Celine’s parents? They ought to be fighting him for the guardianship of her child.
…and what a wonderful person Thomas Galloway had been. The minister actually said, “A fine man and a great humanitarian.”
One in the group of young women went to the podium to say what a wonderful friend Celine had been.
Two friends of Thomas’ rose to say what a wonderful member of the community he had been, probably disappointed that the minister had already said, “A fine man and a great humanitarian.”
Both Celine and Thomas had apparently been wonderful. During speeches from more business friends and golf buddies, Jake resisted the impulse to doze. At last it was over. Someone at the funeral had been Thomas’ lawyer, but Jake didn’t stick around to find out who. He needed some serious sleep.
Abbie was halfway down the block from the restaurant, still thinking what an open, friendly person Lilah was, when she realized she’d forgotten the folder containing the linen samples and her notes on the benefit dinner. She turned back and found herself wondering how Jake was doing. Losing a parent, even an estranged parent, could hurt, and funerals could also be stark reminders of one’s own short time on earth. When she reached the diner, she went directly to the table by the windows where she and Lilah had sat. The bright-red folder was gone.
No, it wasn’t. Colleen stood at the pass-through into the kitchen waving it at her.
Abbie smiled and started toward her, but Colleen pointed to the counter and raced on to her duties.
She picked up the folder and stayed a second to say hello to Barney and Maury. “Whoo,” she heard Barney say. “Everybody’s eating lunch today. I’m wiped out. I feel like an elephant’s sitting on my chest.”
It was the word chest that galvanized her into action. She darted toward the swinging door to the kitchen. She found Maury, wide-eyed, still holding his chef’s knife, staring at Barney, an unfamiliar Barney, whose face was gray and pinched.
She rushed toward Barney, with Maury right behind her. “Are you all right, Barney?” she asked calmly. Instead of answering, he slumped to the floor.
“I’ll call 9-1-1,” Maury said in a scared, shaky voice, and Abbie knelt beside Barney, checking vital signs with no equipment except her fingertips.
Jake went straight to the hotel, checked in, lay down on the bed, and slept for two hours.
He woke up hungry, called room service—to heck with the cost—and ordered a bacon cheeseburger with all the trimmings—to heck with gourmet food. While he waited for it, he decided to call the restaurant, because even in his worst moments, he couldn’t say “to hell with the restaurant.”
“Jake’s Place,” said a lovely, familiar voice.
“Abbie?” His heart thudded.
“Oh, Jake, I’m so sorry you called.”
“Well, thanks. Give it to me straight. What’s happened?”
She sighed. “Nothing for you to worry about until you get back.”
Jake froze, worry creeping up his spine. “What don’t I have to worry about until I get back?”
“Well, Barney had a—a spell of some sort and had to go to the hospital.”
“He had a heart attack, didn’t he?” Jake rested his head on his hands. He’d known Barney had been working too hard and hadn’t done a thing to stop him. Barney meant so much more to him than great burgers. He’d been the father Jake had never had.
“He’ll be okay. Colleen’s holding down the fort at the hospital and calling in with the news; Becky’s taken over the grill and the griddle; Maury’s filling the other orders, and I’m waiting tables. We’ll have reinforcements by tomorrow morning.”
“I’m coming back. I’ll be there in—”
“No,” she said with a firmness that surprised him. “It looks as if you stayed up all night making things easy for Maury and Barney. Stay right there, and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He wanted to argue with her, but he did have the guardianship to deal with. He needed to get this bump in his life leveled as soon as possible. Reluctantly, he agreed to monitor the situation by phone. Room service arrived, and he ate the food with a glass of wine, then stretched out on the bed and was asleep within five minutes.
“Jake?” Earl Ritter stepped into the hallway, held out a hand, and gave Jake a solemn look that he probably meant to be comforting. When Jake nodded, Ritter said, “Before we go into my office, I wanted you to know that Celine’s parents would be here to meet you, but it seems tragedy begat tragedy. Her father had a cranial bleed soon after hearing the bad news, and even if he lives, her mother will have a full-time job taking care of him.”
So, no parents, no grandparents. This kid wouldn’t have anybody but Jake.
Feeling even more weighed down by responsibility, Jake followed Ritter into the conference room. A handful of people were already seated around an oval walnut table, and a few more drifted in. Representatives of charities Thomas had supported? Devoted household help?
A middle-aged woman, attractive but bitter-looking, joined the group. An ex-wife, maybe?
“We’re all here now,” Ritter said ponderously as he opened a document and began to read.
He read Celine’s will first. It was short and boilerplate, with no mention of her child. Next, Thomas’ will. Gifts to several charities, as Jake had surmised. There were gifts to the devoted household help, most of whom cried when they heard the news. The bitter-looking woman had inherited a sum of money that made Jake’s head reel, probably a condition of their divorce.
Then Ritter cleared his throat. “‘In the event that a minor child or children of whom I am the father should survive both my death and their mother’s, I appoint Jake Galloway, currently residing at’”—and his address and phone number followed—“‘as the guardian of that child or children and also appoint said Jake Galloway as trustee of any trust funds of said child or children, to be used at said Jake Galloway’s discretion.’”
So that was it.
Without falling in love, without a mutual agreement with a wife to have a child, Jake had one, a child with trust funds.
The rest of the morning went by in a blur of signing papers and at last, the trip with Ritter to the Galloway house to pick up Lucas Galloway and take him home to Falling Star.
The “minor child” wasn’t a sad young boy. He was an eight-month-old baby.
Already panicked, Jake couldn’t breathe. He wouldn’t be like a big brother to this infant; he’d be like a father! What did he know about being a father?
Lucas was half asleep when the nanny—of course his father and Celine would have had a nanny—handed him over. Terrified, Jake peered down at the baby’s peaceful face, and Lucas opened his eyes to gaze up at him.
They were green. Carroty-red hair like Jake had when he was a child. Pale skin, the kind that freckled.
He looked just like Jake.
8
Jake pulled into the driveway at Jake’s Place and sighed. His nerves were shot. For what seemed like the thousandth time, he took a look at Lucas.
His brother.
His baby.
Throughout the trip home, Jake had been afraid the baby would start crying, missing his parents, his nanny. Then, inexplicably, he’d find himself worrying when Lucas was quiet for too long. Should he wake him up and check on him?
It had been a harrowing experience.
In the end, the kid had slept most of the trip, safe and sound in his car seat, which Jake thought could easily protect an astronaut during a launch. He woke up once on the highway, making noises that did sound like the prelude to an all-out crying jag.
In a panic, Jake pulled over to the shoulder and gave him a bottle. Then, gritting his teeth, he changed his diaper. Lucas wore cloth diapers. Biodegradable. Had to be disposable. First trash can he saw, he’d throw the diaper away.
But now that they were standing in front of the restaurant, Lucas was showing signs of waking up again. Wh
at a terrifying thought.
Jake should have gone to Rafe’s house and asked—no, begged—Rafe and Lilah to rescue him. Pride had stopped him. Stupid, useless pride. He hadn’t wanted to look weak, look like this was something he couldn’t handle. He’d been handling his own life since he’d been a teenager. A baby wasn’t going to throw him for a loop. At least, he hoped not.
Rafe and Lilah would be thrilled about Lucas. Clint would give him that dark, brooding look that said, “How in the world are you going to do this?”
Maury didn’t know Jake was bringing home a baby. He was already worried about the changes franchising would bring about. How would he feel about Lucas? Talk about a major change.
Jake went around to the side door. When he opened it, Lucas opened his eyes and took a look at his surroundings. Then he took a good look at Jake.
His eyes were big and round, but he didn’t look scared. Not knowing what else to do, Jake waved at him. Lucas started waving his arms, too, and making burbling noises. Jake figured he’d better take him inside. Sooner or later, he had to face the music. The whole town was going to go crazy when they learned what had happened—a highly abridged version of what had happened.
He undid the many straps that held Lucas in his car seat and picked him up. Lucas settled immediately on Jake’s left hip.
“Okay, Lucas,” he said on the way to the door, “I don’t know how many times you’ve been out in public, but we have to talk about certain matters of etiquette. Smile at everybody. It’s good business. No crying. No, um, bodily fluids on anybody’s clothes. Got it?”
Lucas smiled at him. Even though he knew the baby didn’t understand what he was saying, it looked as if he intended to cooperate.
When he reached the back door of the diner, he pulled a deep breath into his lungs for fortification, and then went inside. His heart sank when he saw a thin older man standing at the grill and realized it wasn’t Barney, but a stranger. Two more strangers were roaming around, too. But Maury was at the stove, and Abbie stood at the counter assembling salads. Looking at her, Jake’s knees seemed to melt.