by Janet Dailey
Gifts were stacked high next to the Christmas tree. The women who’d come today had been more than generous. With Christmas around the corner, most of them wouldn’t have had it easy coming up with money for a baby gift. Ellie couldn’t help feeling touched. Some of these ladies didn’t even know her. How could she thank them all?
The tables had been arranged in a circle with everyone facing the middle. Conversation buzzed, filling the room with a happy babble. Glancing around at the seated guests, Ellie recognized a few of them. Pretty, blond Kylie Taggart, married to Ben’s friend Shane, was there with her great-aunt Muriel, who had a farm on the edge of town. The two of them gave Ellie a smile and a friendly wave. Two white-haired ladies at a side table were old friends of Clara’s. The stern-looking woman next to them was Maybelle Ferguson, who’d been a substitute teacher at the high school. Krystle, the schoolmate she’d met days ago at Shop Mart, was there, too. She was dressed to the nines, her hair and nails salon fresh.
Ellie recognized Silas’s wife, Connie, and her daughter, Katy, coming in the door. They went everywhere together. Katy, who had Down syndrome, had been a sunny little girl when Ellie left town. Now she was a confident young woman. Ellie had seen them at the wedding and remembered them both.
Catching sight of Ellie, they crossed the room toward her. “I have some good news for you.” Connie had graying hair and a patient smile. “Silas got word your car parts are on the way. They should be here early next week.”
“That’s great!” Ellie said. “Does he have any idea when my car will be done?”
“He’ll know when he’s seen the parts. If everything he needs is there, in good condition, it shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
“Thanks for the good news. I won’t be sorry to see the last of that old purple car.”
Katy noticed Beau, who’d poked his head out of Ellie’s bag. Her eyes lit. “I love your little dog! Can I pet him?”
“Let him smell the back of your hand,” Ellie said. “If he acts friendly, it’s fine.”
Beau responded to Katy’s hand with licks and wags. Ellie lifted him out of her bag and placed him in Katy’s arms. Katy giggled when the little poodle licked her face.
“You can hold him for a while if you want,” Ellie said. “When you’ve had enough, just bring him back.”
Still cuddling the dog, Katy followed her mother to a seat at a nearby table.
Jess was talking to a woman who’d just walked in the door. Tall, fashionably thin, and dressed in a red designer pantsuit, she appeared to be in her mid- to late forties. Her sharp features were crowned by short, professionally streaked hair, which made her look like a younger Jane Fonda. She carried a small, wrapped gift, which she handed to Jess to put with the others.
Ellie nudged her mother. “Do you know that woman?” she asked in a whisper.
“She looks familiar,” Clara said. “I think her husband ran for mayor in the last election. But I don’t remember being introduced to her.”
Now Jess was ushering the woman over to their table. “I’d like you to meet Donetta Huish,” she said. “Her husband works at the bank. They’re the ones who sold me this old house for the B and B. It had belonged to Donetta’s grandfather.”
Clara smiled. “I feel as if I already know you, Donetta,” she said. “When I was a little girl, I had a friend who lived here. I used to play with her until the family broke up and her mother moved away with the girls. My friend’s name was Beatrice. By any chance, could she be your mother?”
Donetta shook her elegant head. “Beatrice was my aunt. Her sister Florence was my mother. Sadly, they’re both gone now.”
“So how long have you and your husband lived in Branding Iron?” Clara asked. “Forgive me, I don’t get out much anymore.”
“We came here six years ago to look after my grandfather. We’d tried to manage things long-distance—paying to keep the heat and water on and the house in decent repair. But Grandpa had become reclusive in his old age and we needed to keep an eye on him. Two years ago he passed away and left me this house.”
“I remember your grandfather quite well,” Clara said. “He was a nice man, but he became depressed, I think, after his family left. So sad the way he shut himself in. The kids used to call him the Vinegar Man, after the old poem they’d read in school. As time went by, I don’t think they even remembered his real name. Heavens, what was it?” Clara paused to think. “Now I remember. It was Shumway. Jacob Shumway.”
Chapter 11
Ellie looked up at the woman she’d just met and arranged her face into a smile. “What a pleasure, Donetta. Thank you so much for coming to my baby shower.” She mouthed the polite words, her thoughts spinning like windmills in a Texas tornado.
Was Jacob Shumway the man who’d signed the loan contract with Jubal’s father?
But how could that be? The contract was only four years old. According to both Donetta and Clara, the man had been a bitter recluse for the latter part of his life, shutting himself in his house, refusing to let people through the door. Surely such a person wouldn’t have been in the business of lending money.
True, Jacob Shumway had been alive when the contract was executed. And the wavering signature suggested an infirm hand. But no theory Ellie could come up with made sense—especially now that all parties to the contract, including the notary, had passed away.
She had to talk to Jubal—as soon as she could get away from here.
Clara’s discreet nudge startled her back to the present. The buzz of conversation had ceased. Donetta Huish had taken her seat, and Jess, standing next to the table, was speaking to the guests.
“When I sent out the invitations, I asked each of you to bring a piece of advice for the new mother. To get the party started, we’ll go around the room. When your turn comes I want you to tell Ellie your name—even if she already knows it—and give her your advice. Katy, we’ll start with you.”
Katy was still snuggling Beau in her arms. She beamed. “Katy Parker. Give your baby lots of love.”
Her mother was next. “Connie Parker. While you’re taking care of the baby, don’t forget to take care of yourself.”
Sitting next to them, in a beautiful handmade sweater, was a tiny, alert woman who appeared to be in her eighties. “Merle Crandall. Find something to laugh about every day. It’ll keep you young—and sane.” Laughter rippled around the room. Only then did Ellie remember who the woman was. She ran Merle’s Craft and Yarn, around the corner from the B and B.
“Children are never too young to learn proper table manners.” That was typical advice from Maybelle Ferguson, who had no children of her own.
“Fix your hair and put on your makeup every day. It’ll do wonders for your mood.” That tip came from Ellie’s old schoolmate, Krystle.
There was more advice. Some of it was practical, such as never go anywhere without at least three diapers, a packet of wipes, and two clean outfits for the baby. Some was funny. Kylie Taggart advised her, “When you take your baby anywhere, wear colors that won’t show spit-up. Floral prints are best. Black is out.” Ellie, dressed head to toe in her customary black, joined in the laughter.
She found herself relaxing a little. These were nice women. They all seemed to wish her well. Most of them would become her friends if she reached out to them. She was even beginning to have a good time—except that her thoughts kept flying back to what she’d learned about Jacob Shumway and the need to contact Jubal. After their last parting, she’d sworn she was finished with the man and his problems. But this chance discovery could be the key to everything. It was too important to put aside.
The game that followed, “Pin the Diaper on the Baby,” was pure silliness, but Ellie did her best to be a good sport as she was blindfolded, spun, and given a paper diaper to pin on a poster of a bare-bottomed infant. To the accompaniment of hysterical giggles, she missed the target by a good eight inches.
When the time came for refreshments, Katy brought Beau back to Elli
e, who gave him a treat and tucked him into her bag. The little poodle settled down and went to sleep. By then Jess and her mother were bringing in the light luncheon they’d prepared.
Francine, a masterful cook, had outdone herself with fruit salad, stuffed croissants, and miniature apricot tarts, served on pink paper plates. Ellie made a mental note to thank Jess’s mother with something nice, like flowers or really good chocolates, if she could find anywhere to get such things in Branding Iron.
Now it was time for the gifts. Katy accepted the job of taking each wrapped package from beside the tree and bringing it to Ellie to be opened. Most of the baby clothes were practical—pajamas, nightgowns, and onesies. There were bath sets, disposable diapers by the case, a silver baby spoon from Donetta Huish, and from Jess, Ben, and Francine a car seat that attached to a folding stroller. Gazing at all the things she’d been given, Ellie felt overwhelmed—not only by the generosity of these women, but by the thought that one tiny baby would have so many needs.
Katy brought the last gift and placed it in Ellie’s hands. The dress-sized box was wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with a pretty bow of pink yarn. Ellie tore off the paper, lifted the lid, and gasped.
Inside was a lacy white baby shawl, hand-crocheted from angora yarn so light and silky that when she unfolded it, the shawl almost seemed to float. The pattern of flowers and butterflies was exquisite.
“It’s a christening blanket,” Connie said. “Merle makes them and sells them in her shop.”
“It’s just lovely,” Ellie said. “Thank you, Merle. This is a treasure. I’ve never seen anything like it, not even in San Francisco.”
The petite, white-haired woman smiled. “My mother taught me how to do the pattern when I was a girl. The yarn comes from a friend in Lithuania. You can’t find it in this country.”
Ellie refolded the shawl with care and replaced it in the box. “Did you also make that beautiful sweater you’re wearing?” she asked Merle.
“I did. Come by my shop when you’re not busy. I’d be delighted to show you around.”
“Thank you so much,” Ellie said. “I’d love to—”
A bedlam of barks, hisses, and yowls drowned out the rest of her words. The uproar came from the back of the kitchen. Ellie didn’t need to check her bag to know that Beau had escaped and gone exploring.
Ellie jumped to her feet, but Francine, who was closer, made it into the kitchen ahead of her. “It’s all right, honey,” Francine called. “Beau and the sergeant are just having a little to-do through the door.”
Ellie burst into the kitchen to find Beau barking at a half-inch crack under the closed basement door. The threatening yowls and the dagger claws that stabbed through the crack left no doubt as to who was on the other side.
“Honestly, Beau, don’t you have any sense? That cat could have you for lunch!” Ellie scooped up the little poodle. From the safety of her arms, he yapped even louder, giving Sergeant Pepper a piece of his doggy mind.
Ellie carried him back into the dining room and put him in her bag while she thanked each of the guests. By then most of the women were getting ready to leave. They had families at home, errands to run, and no more time to spare. Once they were gone, Ellie helped clean up and load the gifts in the back of Jess’s SUV. Then she thanked Francine, and let Jess drive her and Clara home.
Twenty minutes later, with the gifts put away and Clara napping on the couch, Ellie finally found the time to try to reach Jubal. Sitting at the kitchen table, she called his cell phone. No answer.
What a time for him to be out of touch, when she was bursting to tell him what she’d learned. If he called her back, she could give him her news over the phone. But it would be better if they could talk it over and come up with a plan. That would mean meeting face to face. For now, all she could do was leave him a brief message.
“Jubal, I’ve learned something that could be important. I need to talk to you. Call me. Maybe we can meet.”
They hadn’t parted on the best of terms yesterday. What if he was ignoring her call, to show her he didn’t care? She’d known men who would do that. But Jubal wasn’t that kind of person. She’d never known him to play those games. If he knew she was calling him, he would answer.
Why hadn’t he answered his phone? Was he all right? Ellie’s worry instincts kicked in. She stood, her anxiety surging. She could call Gracie’s phone. But if Gracie wasn’t with him, the call could worry the girl. Besides, Ellie didn’t want to give the impression that she was stalking the man. Short of showing up at his house, she could only wait for Jubal to call her back.
Beau pawed her leg, begging to be picked up. Ellie reached down for him and gathered him into her arms. He wiggled with pleasure and licked her chin with his wet pink tongue. Ellie blinked back tears of exhaustion. Physically and emotionally, the afternoon had worn her out.
Slipping her phone into her pocket, she walked into the living room and curled into a cushiony armchair. Clara had switched on the Christmas tree lights before lying down for her nap. They glowed softly in the fading afternoon light. Beau snuggled against Ellie’s shoulder, a tiny bundle of warmth and comfort. Within minutes they’d both dozed off.
* * *
Jubal had resolved to put his worries aside for the day and spend time with his daughter. After he’d done the morning chores, braided her hair, and made her French toast for breakfast, they’d put on their coats, climbed into the truck, and headed for Cottonwood Springs to do some Christmas shopping.
Most of Gracie’s Christmas gifts would be clothes. Jubal knew she’d be happiest with the ones that she’d picked out herself and given him to wrap and put under the tree.
They parked at the mall and walked into a wonderland of glittering decorations, Christmas music, and mouthwatering aromas. Christmas trees stood at every corner, trimmed with dazzling lights and ornaments. Tinsel garlands hung overhead. Shoppers bustled in and out of stores filled with a myriad of things to buy. One look at Gracie’s sparkling eyes, and Jubal knew he’d done the right thing bringing her here.
In the center of the mall, a plump, bearded Santa sat in a big red chair, with parents and children lined up to perch on his knee and have their photos taken.
“Would you like to tell Santa your Christmas wishes?” Jubal asked his daughter.
Gracie wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m getting too old for that, Dad. Besides, you can tell his beard is fake.”
Jubal sighed. Where had his wide-eyed little girl gone?
He’d promised Gracie she could choose whatever she wanted in the way of clothes. He’d brought his credit card, free of debt, and had been prepared to splurge if it would please her. But he should have known she’d make sensible choices—she was Laura’s daughter, after all. Gracie came to the counter of the preteen shop with some nice basics for school—sweaters, a skirt, jeans, and two pairs of the patterned leggings Jubal had seen young girls wear. The one extravagance was a pair of smart little fleece-lined leather boots, which he was happy to buy her.
“You’ll need a new coat, too,” he said.
“It’s all right, Daddy,” she replied with a heart-melting smile. “The coats will go on sale after Christmas. We can buy a nice one then.”
Jubal swallowed the lump in his throat. His daughter hadn’t had an easy life, but that life had made her wise for her years.
He knew what she really wanted—a little dog like Ellie’s poodle. The fact that she didn’t press him for one was a reflection of her maturity. He’d never told her about the loss of the ranch. But she seemed to sense that something was wrong—something that made this a bad time to ask for a high-maintenance pet.
“I want to get a present for Ellie, too,” Gracie said. “She’s been really nice to me.”
Jubal sighed, remembering how Ellie had stormed out of the house yesterday. Even if he’d known what a sophisticated woman like Ellie might like, buying her a Christmas present would be an awkward gesture. In the end, because Gracie was so keen on
getting something, they settled on a half-pound, gold-wrapped box of gourmet chocolates and a packet of home-baked puppy treats for Beau.
After eating Chinese at the food court and wolfing down hot fudge sundaes, they spent time strolling around the mall, taking in the decorations and the stores. Jubal had turned his cell phone off that morning. He’d needed a day free from distractions and bad news, a day when the ringing phone wouldn’t interrupt his time with his daughter.
This good day was worth it.
But shutting off his thoughts wasn’t as simple as shutting off his phone. Ellie had been on his mind all day. He’d done his best to push her aside, but now, driving home in the truck with Gracie asleep beside him, he couldn’t fight her any longer.
Yesterday, when he’d refused to follow her advice, she’d been frustrated and hurt. Jubal knew her well enough to understand. Ellie was a passionately caring person. She’d wanted to help him, but he’d turned a deaf ear. He couldn’t blame her for walking out on him. But, damn it, he had to do this his way—and that included not asking for help until he could put together a solid case against the Shumways, whoever the hell they were.
Maybe his quarrel with Ellie was for the best—a clean break for both of them. These games they were playing—the phone calls, the intimate conversations, and that one sizzling kiss—were only leading them down the path to regret. Forget the past and move on. That was the sensible thing to do, for Ellie as well as for him. And for Gracie. For Gracie most of all.
By now it was getting dark. Jubal switched on his headlights. A glance at the gauge on the dashboard told him the truck was running low on gas. A mile ahead, at the next highway junction, was a gas station where he could fill up. With luck, he could do it without waking his daughter.
She was still asleep a few minutes later when he pulled up to the gas pump, climbed out of the truck, and closed the door softly behind him. The December wind was brisk and bitter. Jubal stood in the cold waiting for the slow pump to fill the tank. It seemed as good a time as any to take his cell phone out of his pocket, turn it on, and check for voice messages.