Tumbleweed Weddings

by Donna Robinson

  “I know. And don’t worry, I won’t be up late. Since it’s been snowing, I plan to get up a half hour earlier tomorrow morning and take my time driving to work. I sure don’t want Murray to give me a ticket.”

  “Good for you.” Mom walked to the door. “Good night.”

  “Night, Mom.” Tonya turned back to the computer, ready to pour out her heart to Poetry Lover Guy.

  Chapter 9

  On Friday morning, Tonya watched Crystal Larsen walk out of the Beauty Spot, sporting her new hair color. The blond highlights looked great on Crystal, and Tonya silently congratulated herself on her good fashion advice.

  “This morning’s been so busy.” With a broom, Aggie swept hair into a dustpan. “But I’m glad. Seems like we have more customers when the snow stops.” She leaned on the broom handle. “You sure have been quiet today, Tonya.”

  “I’ve been thinking about Poe.”

  “Who else?” Aggie laughed. “The whole town knows about that secret admirer of yours. So, what did he write last night?”

  “I feel so sorry for him. He’s lonely.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Aggie plopped down in the beautician chair, and her brown eyes turned serious. “You know who really helps curb my loneliness?” She glanced toward the door, as if checking to make sure no customers were entering.

  Aggie, lonely? Tonya raised her eyebrows. “Who?”

  “Bruce MacKinnon, that’s who.” With a sigh, Aggie brushed her fingers against her beehive hairdo, tinted purple this week. “I’ve been attracted to that man ever since his wife died, and we’re good friends. I call him a lot, and sometimes he calls me. He’s such a good listener. When we’re talking together, my loneliness just melts away like butter in the hot sun.” She paused. “But he never pays me no mind in a romantic way. I’m just his good friend—like a sister.” Another sigh escaped her tangerine-painted lips.

  Tonya already knew Aggie was smitten with Bruce. Last summer Callie had enlightened her about Aggie’s interest, and most of the town knew Aggie pestered the man.

  The bell jingled above the door, and they both turned as Murray Twichell walked in.

  Tonya frowned. What’s he doing here?

  Aggie rose from her chair. “Hey there, Murray. Did Clint close the barbershop today?”

  “Not that I know of.” Murray hung his coat on a hook by the door. “I’m a repeat customer. I liked the way Tonya cut my hair last month, so I thought I’d come back.”

  “Good thing you didn’t preface it with a speeding ticket.” Aggie cackled at her own joke. “But you’re right on, Murray. Tonya’s the best in the business.”

  Tonya didn’t know whether to thank Aggie for the compliment or yell at her for bringing up her shortcomings. She pulled the cape from her chair and waited as Murray took a seat. As she pumped up the chair with her foot, she noticed that he wasn’t wearing any aftershave. Instead he smelled clean, like soap.

  Her eyes met his in the mirror. “So you want the same cut I gave you last time?”

  Murray smiled. “That would be great, Tonya. You’re the best, just like Aggie said.”

  Why is he being so nice?

  As Tonya spritzed his hair with water, Aggie sat down on the other chair. “How’s your mother, sugar?” The older woman leaned toward him. “Is the Parkinson’s getting any worse?”

  Murray shrugged. “She’s about the same. She has that jumpy type of Parkinson’s, and sometimes she’s more nervous than at other times.”

  Picking up her shears, Tonya only half-listened as Aggie and Murray conversed about Priscilla Twichell’s medications, the nursing home in Douglas, and the snowy weather. Tonya’s thoughts kept drifting to Poe. What was he doing right now? What did he look like? She pictured him as a tall, handsome man—like Cary Grant. In her mind Tonya reviewed Poe’s e-mails, which she’d read so many times she had them memorized. What had he thought about her comments last night?

  Aggie sat back in her chair. “Thanks for updating me on your mother, Murray. Hope I’m not being too nosy. Sometimes Bruce says I’m just a mite too curious.”

  Tonya’s attention shot back to the conversation. “We have to get you and Bruce together, Aggie.”

  Frowning, Aggie folded her arms. “I told you about that in confidence, Tonya Brandt.”

  Murray grinned. “About you and Bruce? Come on, Aggie, the entire town knows you like him.” He glanced at Tonya in the mirror. “You’re right. It’s time those two got together.”

  “Well I never!” Aggie sputtered. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

  “But Aggie …” Tonya clipped the hair around Murray’s right ear. “Don’t you want to be more than good friends?”

  “Hey, I could talk to Bruce.” Murray raised his eyebrows. “Maybe he just needs a push in the right direction.”

  “Murray’s right, Aggie. Bruce is very laid-back. You two will be friends forever—and friends only—if someone doesn’t nudge him toward you.”

  Aggie’s chubby face flushed. “But, you see … it’s just that …” Her bracelets clinked together as she raised her hands, then dropped them. “I don’t want him to think I’m pushy or anything.”

  Murray grinned, and Tonya felt his shoulders shake in silent laughter. Biting her lower lip, Tonya tried to hide her own smile and concentrate on the haircut.

  Aggie, oblivious to their amusement, paced behind Tonya. “What if Bruce don’t want a closer friendship? And if I push him—why, he might never speak to me again!”

  Tonya shook her head. “He probably knows how you feel already. If he’s truly your friend, he’s not going to suddenly hate you if you want to get closer.”

  “I agree with Tonya.” Murray’s eyes followed the pacing Aggie in the mirror. “If you want me to, I’ll put a bug in his ear. I see him most mornings at the Trailblazer Café. On the other hand, if you’re dead set against it …” He shrugged.

  Twisting her hands, Aggie stopped and threw a desperate look at Tonya.

  “Go for it, Aggie!” Tonya grinned. “This might be the chance of a lifetime.”

  “Oh okay.” She pursed her orange lips. “Just promise me, Murray, that you’ll talk to him in private. I don’t want the whole place to know I’m pining after him.”

  “You have my word.”

  Tonya unfastened the cape and pulled it from Murray’s neck. “All finished.”

  “I’ll meet you up at the front, Murray.” Aggie waddled to the cash register. “Do you want to buy any other products? Shampoo? Conditioner?” She seemed ready to dismiss Bruce as a topic of conversation.

  He stood. “No thanks.” Smiling at Tonya, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Thanks for the great job, Tonya.”

  Grabbing a broom, she nodded. She had left the top a little longer, and it made him look good. Not handsome, of course—Murray would never be handsome.

  After he left the shop, Tonya gazed at Murray’s hair in the dustpan before she threw it in the trash. “You know, Aggie, I always thought Murray’s hair was red, but it’s really auburn. Almost brown.”

  “Growing darker with his age, I reckon. That kid used to be a carrottop, just like his mother. He’s the spitting image of Priscilla.” Aggie sighed as she took a seat in the other chair. “I feel so sorry for her with that Parkinson’s. When I moved to Fort Lob, she was the first person who befriended me in this town. She prayed with me and helped me through some hard trials.”

  Tonya opened the closet door to put the broom away. “Did you have problems when you lived in Texas, Aggie?”

  “Oh, hon, you don’t want to know. Suffice it to say, I was running from a bad situation.” She sighed. “But Priscilla—bless her heart. She soon had her own share of troubles, and I was comforting her.”

  “I remember when Murray’s dad died.”

  “That ain’t the half of it, sugar! So many people died in their family, one right after the other.” Aggie counted off on her fingers. “Her father, his mother, her sister, her mother,
his uncle—why, I believe we were going to a funeral for the Twichell family every month there for a while.”

  “How sad!” Tonya sank down on the other chair. “And then Murray’s dad died, too.”

  “Yeah, a few years after all them other relatives died. Anson was quite a bit older than Priscilla, you know.”

  “I always liked Mrs. Twichell.” Tonya reached back in her memory. “Sometimes Callie and I played at Murray’s house, and Mrs. Twichell always had cookies for us. She was so nice to me, especially when Murray and Callie ignored me. I was a little pest to them since I was three years younger.”

  Aggie smiled. “And now you kids are all grown-up.” She glanced out the big plate-glass windows. “It’s snowing again. Why don’t you hightail it home, Tonya? We probably won’t have much business between now and five.”

  “Thanks, Aggie.” Tonya stood. “I want to see if Poe wrote to me, and the sooner the better.”

  Wow. Murray’s jaw dropped as he read the e-mail. It worked! He had written a few sentences about his loneliness, and Tonya peeled back her heart for three pages.

  He reread the lines that caught him off guard.

  My sisters, Melissa and Callie, are both married, and Molly is getting married in a few weeks. I’m the only single sister now, with no prospect for a husband on the horizon. Sometimes I worry that I’ll never get married. Sure, I can get a date in a heartbeat, but of all the guys I know, I can’t find a kindred spirit—someone who wants to know the real me, someone who will love me for who I am.

  Murray sat back. Strange she should mention the very thing he wanted to do—get to know the real Tonya underneath all that outward beauty.

  But Tonya never getting married? That was crazy.

  He highlighted that paragraph in his reply.

  Tonya, you’re so beautiful. Why do you think you’ll never marry? There are probably a thousand guys out there who would love to marry you.

  His fingers paused above the keys. Did that include him? Would he love to marry Tonya Brandt, the spoiled baby of the Brandt family?

  He deleted the word thousand and replaced it with dozen.

  There are probably a dozen guys out there who would love to marry you.

  He nodded. Now if she had money and fame, a thousand guys might be standing on her doorstep.

  With a grin, he finished the letter and shut down his computer. He had to get up early tomorrow. It was back to work for the weekend, and he had to be in Cheyenne at seven in the morning. At least he had Monday off.

  His twenty-seventh birthday.

  Chapter 10

  Murray sat at the kitchen table on Monday morning and finished his breakfast—a bowl of toasted oats with a few raspberries thrown in. As he ate, he perused The Scout, Fort Lob’s newspaper.

  It didn’t seem like his birthday, although on Friday he had received a card from his secret pal along with a devotional book. He wasn’t sure who his secret pal was, but the writing was definitely feminine.

  He wished his mom were here to pamper him and bake him a cake, but after lunch he planned to visit her at the Pine River Nursing Home in Douglas. Maybe the nurses would sing “Happy Birthday.” At least they did last year.

  The wall phone above the counter rang.

  He lifted his eyes from the paper. Who could that be? The landline rang so seldom. After the second ring, he stood and grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Twitch!” Derek Brandt’s voice sounded in his ear. “We missed you at church yesterday.”

  “I had to work all weekend, which really bummed me out. I hate missing church.”

  “I figured that must be the culprit. Just wanted to tell you about the Single Servings Valentine’s party. Originally we planned it for February fourteenth, but as you know, my sister’s getting married on that day.”

  Murray took a seat at the table. “Yeah, I have to go to Douglas and get fitted for my tux.”

  “Me, too—unfortunately.” Derek laughed. “Anyway, the class decided to move the party up to February seventh, and we’re going to reveal the secret pals then. I hope you can come.”

  Murray nodded. “I’ll see if I can get a couple hours off that day.”

  “Are you off today?”

  “Yeah.” Murray held in a sigh, thinking of the slow day ahead of him.

  “Mom wanted me to invite you over for supper tonight—for your birthday.” Derek chuckled. “Happy birthday, Twitch!”

  “Oh thanks! I’m surprised someone remembered.” His mood ratcheted up a notch.

  “Mom’s a walking calendar—she remembers every birthday and anniversary of everyone we know.” Derek paused. “After supper Dad and I are planning to watch the playoff game from last night. Since we were in church, Dad recorded it. You’re welcome to stay and watch it with us if you want.”

  “Sure, that would be great!” Murray glanced at the newspaper. “I already know who won, but I’ll watch it anyway.”

  “Hey, don’t give it away!” Derek laughed. “Dad and I refuse to look at a paper or turn on the radio until we see the game on the DVR tonight.”

  Murray chuckled. “Okay.” This would be a good birthday after all.

  Tonya entered the den holding a plate of brownies. She stopped in the doorway to survey the three men watching the football game. Dad sat in the recliner, his feet up. Derek and Murray sat on either end of the couch, each holding a can of soda. All three had their eyes glued to the action on the big-screen TV. Memories of Reed Dickens—sitting in the exact spot Murray now occupied—filled her mind, and she was glad she wasn’t trying to impress anyone tonight.

  “Here are the brownies.” She set the plate on the coffee table.

  “Brownies?” Dad pulled a fake frown. “We just celebrated Murray’s birthday with cake and ice cream. How do you expect us to eat brownies?”

  Tonya shrugged. “It’s a tradition. I always make brownies when you guys watch football.”

  “I’ll eat one.” Derek snatched it off the plate. “I love these.”

  Murray leaned forward and picked up a brownie. “Are these the same kind you made for the Christmas party?”

  “Yep, my secret recipe with chocolate chunks and cream cheese.”

  “These are fantastic! I wanted to take the last one at the party, but Aggie beat me to it.” Murray took a bite and chewed a moment. “You should call them Tonya’s Terrific Brownies.”

  A warm feeling filled Tonya at his praise. “Well, you don’t have to worry about Aggie eating them up tonight.” She turned to the door. “Enjoy.”

  “Hey!” Dad called after her. “Aren’t you going to watch the game with us?”

  Tonya turned back. “I’m not really into football, Dad.” And I don’t want to sit beside Murray.

  “Come on.” Murray moved over and patted the sofa cushion between him and Derek.

  “Yeah, sis.” Derek motioned to her. “Come watch the game with us. The more the merrier.”

  Tonya raised her eyebrows, then shrugged. She had nothing else to do and was soon settled between her brother and Murray.

  This promised to be a boring evening.

  “Did you see that, Twitch?” Derek pointed to the screen. “We did that exact same play one time against Northern.”

  Murray laughed. “I was thinking the same thing. And remember that game we played against Pinedale? Fourteen to twenty with only a half minute left, and you threw me that Hail Mary right down the middle of the field.”

  “Oh, that was a great game.” Derek’s shoulder brushed Tonya’s as he leaned forward. “You made the touchdown with fifteen seconds to spare, and then we got the extra point and beat ’em by one point.”

  Tonya looked back and forth between the two men. “How do you guys remember all that? You played those games eight or nine years ago.”

  “You were there, Tonya.” Murray’s close-set blue eyes met hers. “Don’t you remember? That was one of our biggest wins.”

  She smirked. “I was a cheerleader, not a
statistician.”

  “I still remember the scores of all our games, especially during my senior year.” Murray raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you remember stuff from high school?”

  “Well, I remember what I wore to the prom my senior year.” She thought back to the dark-blue sequined dress she had made herself. “And I loved my shoes.” Whatever happened to those strappy blue shoes?

  Murray pointed to the screen. “Hey, watch that guy go. He’s fast!”

  Tonya studied Murray’s hand until he dropped it back to his leg. She had never noticed his hands before—strong, masculine hands with just a hint of dark-red hair across the back, thick fingers, and clean, square nails.

  The men discussed the game on TV before the talk turned once again to high school football.

  “You were good, Murray.” Dad reached over and grabbed a brownie. “In fact, you were probably the best wide receiver the school ever had.”

  “Well, I don’t know… .”

  “MVP your senior year.” Derek glanced at him. “Don’t be so humble, Twitch.”

  Humble? Tonya rolled her eyes. The words humble and Murray did not belong in the same sentence.

  “What about you?” Murray motioned toward Derek. “You were voted MVP the next year. That school never had such a good quarterback.”

  Tonya looked straight ahead. “Let’s just pat each other on the back.”

  “We are, Tonya.” Murray leaned into her shoulder and lowered his voice. “And we can’t forget the cheerleaders. Some of them were really pretty—especially that Brandt girl.”

  She tried not to smile, but didn’t quite succeed. “Thanks.”

  He grinned at her, flashing those straight white teeth. Then, leaning forward, he looked at the screen.

  She took a moment to study his profile. His eyelashes seemed darker than they used to be—the same dark auburn as his hair—and she had never noticed how long they were. His nose didn’t look so big in profile, and his hair, which she had cut, was growing out nicely. A hint of beard showed beneath his cheeks, ending in a strong chin. Maybe he wasn’t as homely as she had always thought.