“Because the town having an EMT is that important.”
“No, because you’re my friend.”
Will met Sam’s gaze, then averted his head. No way could he explain his PTSD without looking like a damn wimp. Even to a friend.
“How long will the tour last?” he asked. “I was planning on riding out to the Dividend Mine.”
“With this group, I’m thinking an hour should be enough. Two at the most. That’ll leave you enough time.”
“Getting dark early these days.” And the weather was unpredictable at best. “Any chance Luiz can handle the tour?”
At Will’s suggestion, Sam had recently added a stop at the Dividend Mine to their regular trail ride routes. Come spring, a morning of prospecting would be featured as the ranch’s newest excursion.
“You’re the man for this job,” Sam insisted. “These people are special needs. You have the training.”
“Right. Because I was once a hospital orderly.”
In Sam’s eyes, that made Will the resident medical expert. He saw the pieces falling into place. Sam wanted Will to conduct this tour in the hopes of convincing him to accept the town’s offer.
“Now that I think about it,” Sam continued, “I might have Luiz give you a hand. These folks are a lot to handle.”
Now Will’s curiosity was really roused. What locals were special needs? Unless...
Sam had been in discussions with the elementary school about hosting field trips for the students. Also with the high school regarding a work-for-class-credit program.
“Look,” Will said, “just because I did all right with Trevor and Demi doesn’t mean I’m ready to take on a bunch of schoolkids.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Will’s relief was cut short.
“Miranda Staley’s arriving with her residents. For an outing. They want to see all the changes.”
Great, just great.
“I’d prefer that you let me out of this one,” Will said.
“Not possible. I have a wedding to attend.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“What?” Sam feigned innocence.
“It’s not going to work, no matter how often you throw Miranda and me together.”
“We’ll see. This is Sweetheart after all.” Sam strode off, grinning.
Chapter Seven
Miranda unbuckled her seat belt and turned off the van’s engine in front of the bank. “Be right back.”
“I’m going to be late for work,” Mrs. Litey complained yet again. For the past hour, since she’d been informed they were visiting the Gold Nugget, she’d mentally returned in time to when she was the ranch’s curator. A very conscientious curator, who was rarely late for work.
“This won’t take but a minute.” In truth, Miranda’s tasks were going to require ten, if not fifteen, minutes. In her absence, Nell would keep a watchful eye on the four residents.
“No need to worry yourself.” Himey leaned forward from the rear seat and tapped Mrs. Litey’s shoulder. “You don’t work at the ranch anymore.”
Her features instantly collapsed. “I’ve been fired?”
“Leave her be,” Babs snapped, still unhappy that Arthur hadn’t been allowed to accompany them on their outing.
Miranda hopped out of the van and slid open the side door. Mrs. Litey sat on the middle bench, closest to the door. She patted the elderly woman’s arm reassuringly. “You didn’t lose your job. I called ahead and told them we had a stop to make first. Everything’s fine.”
Mrs. Litey broke into a weepy, grateful smile. “Thank you, Lois.”
Miranda had no idea who Lois was and assumed she’d been a friend or coworker of Mrs. Litey’s from years past. “You just sit tight, okay?”
“Where’s my purse?”
“On the floor beside you.” Miranda reached down, retrieved the heavy purse and placed it on Mrs. Litey’s lap. “Here you go.”
“Tell Mr. Carter I said hello,” Mr. Lexington said from his seat beside Himey. Though none of his companions seemed to care, he elaborated. “I coached his Little League team when he was just a tyke. Worst shortstop you ever saw.”
Miranda frowned as she closed the van door. How did Mr. Lexington know she was seeing the loan officer? Big ears, she supposed, and close quarters. Nothing stayed private long in Harmony House.
Clutching the envelope securely in her hand, she made her way inside and to the first available teller station. With more than a little satisfaction, she handed over enough money to cover the two payments due and late fees. Tips at the Paydirt had been good. That, and a small advance from the mayor, had made it possible for Miranda to bring her mortgage current.
For now. In two weeks, she would be scrambling for money again. She tried not to think about it and focus on the positive.
“Here’s your receipt.” The teller passed Miranda a slip of paper.
“Would you please let Mr. Carter know I’m here?”
“Certainly.” The teller buzzed him.
A moment later, he emerged from behind his cubicle wall and beckoned her to join him. Entering the small space, Miranda presented the receipt as if it were a first-place trophy she’d won.
“I’m all caught up with my payments.”
“Congratulations.” He reviewed the receipt and returned it to her, his demeanor more reserved than Miranda would have liked.
“Can we refinance my mortgage now?”
“It’s not quite that simple. You still have to qualify, and I’m not sure you will.”
The exchange of information took more than the ten minutes Miranda had expected, and the paperwork was certainly far from simple. Nell called Miranda’s cell phone, questioning how much longer she would be.
“We’re almost through.” Miranda smiled apologetically at Mr. Carter and disconnected. “The natives are getting restless.”
“Have you had any luck finding a fifth resident?”
He would bring that up, naturally. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” She didn’t dare tell him about the call from Mr. Lexington’s son and the possibility—she prayed a remote one—that his family was going to move him.
She left the building soon after with a stack of documents and a lengthy list of requirements. The next several evenings would be filled with information gathering and at least one trip to the general store for surplus toner. Mr. Carter had requested copies of everything.
On the steps outside, she nearly ran over Arthur’s daughter and son-in-law, who owned and operated Perfect Fit Tuxedo Rentals. As usual, they were dressed in matching outfits. Today they wore bright red parkas, knit scarves and fur earmuffs. “Mr. and Mrs. Eubanks. How are you?”
“Miranda. It’s good to see you.” Jody Eubanks enveloped her in a friendly hug. “How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Nice. The usual. Turkey dinner and phone calls to my family. What about you?”
“The kids and grandkids came over. It was simply wonderful.”
Miranda recalled Arthur saying his daughters had bickered all day and his grandchildren were spoiled beyond belief. Miranda chose not to contradict Jody. Tolerance for commotion did tend to decrease with age, while tendencies to complain increased.
“Dad’s a little put out with you.” Jody wagged a finger at Miranda.
“He is?” Her gazed wandered to the van parked a short distance away. She could see Nell through the windshield, attempting to quiet someone. Probably Mrs. Litey. “Why?”
“He wanted terribly to go with you and Babs to the Gold Nugget. Only you said no.” Jody’s mouth turned down in a pout. “Now he’s stuck sitting at home. Alone.”
“It’s a liability issue. He’s not covered under my insurance policy. If anything were to happen.
..”
Miranda was already taking enough of a risk by allowing Arthur to hang out as much as he did, often past visiting hours. Not to mention the added expense of constantly feeding him. Miranda was too softhearted for her own good.
“You could always drive him to the ranch and meet us there,” she said.
“We thought of that, but getting away isn’t easy. We’ve been ridiculously busy lately, what with the contest winners’ wedding and outfitting the groom and groomsmen.”
Miranda refrained from pointing out that they were away from their shop now. One of them could remain at the shop while the other drove Arthur to the ranch.
“Speaking of which, I should get going.”
Jody evidently wasn’t done with her. “Dad’s miserable when he doesn’t see Babs. I wish there was something more we could do.”
“Why don’t you bring her over to your house for a visit? There’s just a simple form you have to sign. I’m sure she’d love it. Arthur, too.”
“If we only could. But we have to work.”
“I thought you were closed on Wednesdays.”
“Everyone needs a day of rest.”
Miranda hadn’t had a day of rest since last Christmas.
“Caring for one senior citizen is hard enough.” Jody appealed to her husband for support. “Two would be, well, twice the work.”
Miranda forced a smile. She didn’t think she’d met a more self-absorbed woman. “Tell me about it. I have four senior citizens to care for. Five if I count your dad.”
“Yes, my dear, but you have help. We don’t.”
Part-time help. And Miranda was stuck waitressing at the Paydirt Saloon in order to pay for that help.
Resentment built inside her. Considering everything she did for Arthur, Jody didn’t act the least bit appreciative, much less offer to compensate Miranda. In fact, if anything, Jody was trying to finagle Miranda into doing more.
Suddenly inspiration struck. “I have a vacancy at the house, if you and Arthur would be interested.”
Jody and her husband shared jaw-dropping glances, which they then aimed at Miranda. “Are you suggesting we put Dad in your home? Permanently?”
Miranda kept her voice light. “I could offer adult day care, if you’d rather. Charge you an hourly or daily rate.” She was liking the idea more and more.
“We love my father. We wouldn’t do that to him,” Jody said.
“Do what?” All lightness left Miranda’s voice.
“You know. Subject him to that.”
Miranda stiffened. “Subject him to what?” A comfortable and safe place to stay? Healthy and delicious meals? Medical supervision? Companionship?
“He wouldn’t be happy there.” Again Jody turned to her husband.
He just shook his head.
“For someone who’s not happy there, he spends a considerable amount of time there.” Miranda pinned Jody with a stare. “You drop him off nearly every day so he can visit Babs.”
“That’s not the same thing as staying.”
Miranda didn’t see the difference.
Jody must have finally realized she was offending the sole person responsible for watching her father and making her life infinitely easier, all free of charge.
“I’m sure I’ve said it before, but thank you.” She grabbed her husband’s arm, holding it as if to shield herself. “We really do need to get going. Babs will tell Dad all about your trip when he sees her tomorrow.”
Miranda had half a mind to tell them no, that Arthur couldn’t come over tomorrow, but she didn’t. Still, if the refinancing of her mortgage didn’t go through, she might have to grow a spine and start standing up to the Eubankses.
* * *
WILL WASN’T SURE what was worse, teaching Trevor and Demi to rope or escorting Miranda’s residents on a tour of the ranch. Both were an undisciplined lot. And both had a female in charge who was determined to solicit his attention.
There was a difference between the two, however. The cousin/babysitter’s attempts had been awkward and painfully obvious. Miranda was considerably more skilled and the effects considerably more effective.
How was it possible for a woman to wear a bulky winter coat and still have curves? She did. At least, the hint of curves was there. Enough to fire Will’s imagination.
“Joseph!” Mrs. Litey was the first of Miranda’s residents to disembark from the van. Miranda and Nell each supported an arm, assisting the elderly woman to the ground. Her walker followed.
Will had hardly taken a step forward when she advanced, the wheels of her walker scraping over the rough ground.
“Mom.” He greeted her with a warm hug. It felt right. Much as holding Miranda felt right.
No, wrong. On both accounts.
His relationship with Mrs. Litey was based on a falsehood, and his one with Miranda was a mistake. He couldn’t be the man she wanted. The kind of man she needed. Emotionally whole. Able to love. Able to leave Sweetheart without becoming violently ill.
“What are you doing here at the ranch?” Mrs. Litey asked. “I wasn’t expecting you until tonight.”
“My flight landed early. Thought I’d surprise you.” He’d left Cruze in the barn, afraid Mrs. Litey would be confused by the dog’s presence. From what he’d gathered, Joseph hadn’t owned a dog.
“You should have called.” She brushed his hair from his face, the maternal gesture reminding him of his mother and grandmother.
He bent and kissed her cheek, looking over just in time to catch Miranda watching him as she unloaded Babs’s wheelchair. Her expression was unmistakable. He intrigued her.
Will couldn’t fathom why. What guy in his right mind kissed a beautiful woman and then left her standing in the cold? Miranda should know better.
“Mom—” he took Mrs. Litey’s arm and linked it through his “—mind if I join the tour?”
“Oh, you’ve seen this old ranch a hundred times.”
“Not recently.” He propelled her gently along. “Come on.”
Convincing her to lead the tour proved an inspiration. She pontificated to the group as if they were tourists rather than her housemates. The newly constructed horse corrals, expanded barn, rodeo arena and four guest cabins threw her, especially when Will took over explaining the additions.
“Why did The Forty-Niners cease production?” Miranda asked.
The question instantly grounded Mrs. Litey in her role as guide.
Will shot Miranda a grateful look.
“The studio cited low ratings,” Mrs. Litey elaborated. “But most people believe the low ratings resulted from disgruntled fans, most of them women. They didn’t like that the story line changed in the last season and that the handsome young son married a, shall we say, soiled dove. They preferred that he and his two equally handsome brothers remain bachelors. The studio was flooded with letters of complaint.”
Will was impressed and a little amazed at how vital Mrs. Litey had become. She must have been an excellent guide in her day. It was clear she’d loved her job and the ranch.
“Hard to believe the fans were that fickle,” Miranda said. She was in the lead, maneuvering Babs’s wheelchair up the walkway to the main house.
“What can you say? A man in a cowboy hat is hard to resist.” Mrs. Litey patted the front of Will’s jacket. “A man in uniform, too.”
“I agree.” Miranda glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes twinkling.
“Now, Lois,” Mrs. Litey admonished Miranda, calling her by the wrong name again. “Don’t you be entertaining any notions about my Joseph. He’s taken.”
Will faltered. How did she know about his ex-fiancée? It took him a second to realize that she didn’t. Her late son must have had a girlfriend or wife. But why hadn’t Mrs. Litey mentioned it before? Wi
ll shrugged off his disconcertion.
“All the good ones are,” Babs agreed as if she’d been part of the conversation all along. “I’m so lucky to have Arthur. Can’t imagine what I’d do without him. Wish he were here now.”
“Maybe next time,” Miranda said.
There was an odd note in her voice Will noticed immediately.
The remainder of the tour, lasting another hour, proceeded without a hitch. In the parlor the group went from photograph to photograph hanging on the wall, listening intently to Mrs. Litey recite trivia about the show. At the end she was given an enthusiastic round of applause.
“Thank you and be sure to come back again. Lois, would you see to it that our visitors receive a pamphlet on their way out? Inside is a map of the town and discount coupons for the I Do Café and ice-cream shop.”
“Absolutely.” Miranda beamed, all trace of whatever was bothering her earlier having vanished.
No one commented on the lack of pamphlets. On the front porch Miranda had trouble navigating Babs’s wheelchair down the steps. Nell was too occupied with running herd on the other residents to be of assistance.
“Hold on,” she warned as the wheels rocked down the first step.
Babs gasped.
Without thinking, Will stepped in. “Let me.”
“I can do it.”
He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, his hands resting behind hers. When she didn’t budge, he moved her aside with his body. She still held on.
“Miranda.”
She lifted her face to his. “Yes?”
It was then he knew he’d been set up again. This time by her. And he’d fallen for it.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered and inched closer.
He increased his hold on the wheelchair.
“Don’t be a stranger.”
To his embarrassment, he gulped.
“Hurry,” Babs squeaked.
Will got her down the steps in one piece.
They had barely begun loading up the van when Sam and his family pulled in, his wife behind the wheel. The wedding must be over, though the reception at the Paydirt was expected to last well into the evening.
His Christmas Sweetheart Page 9