Jesse's Hideout (Bluegrass Spirits 1)

by Kallypso Masters

  “Oh, I can’t really. There’s work to be done.”

  “You’re always working.”

  “I wasn’t last night.” Except working at getting my hopes up, maybe. “Besides, when you love what you do, it doesn’t feel like work.” The temptation to ditch her responsibilities and run off for a day at the zoo dragged heavily at her, but she drew a deep breath. “We’d better get this food in the dining room so you two can eat and be on your way to Louisville.”

  “We’ll be back late afternoon to finish trimming the tree, so stay off that ladder.”

  She didn’t like being told what to do when she’d managed the ladder perfectly fine all these years, but admitted it was much more fun with them helping. “Don’t worry. I have enough to keep me busy.”

  Besides, they still had the issue of his identity between them. Deciding not to allow herself in any deeper with him until he was honest with her, she handed him two potholders before picking up the other casserole.

  They placed the dishes on hot plates on the sideboard, and she prepared a plate for Derek, hoping he’d try the things she put on there. If not, she had some microwavable pancakes in a pinch, but the thought of serving him something she hadn’t made herself didn’t appeal to her.

  Greg prepared his own plate. “Everything smells delicious. Is this the way Kentuckians eat for Sunday breakfast?”

  “Not always, but it’s what I like serving guests on Sunday. All of your grandmother’s favorites.”

  “My grandmother?”

  Oh no!

  Her mind had been so focused on his true relationship with Mrs. Foster—and the lie—that she’d let it slip. Perhaps her lack of sleep was to blame, but she wasn’t sorry in the least. She wanted this out in the open, but hadn’t expected to be the one to bring it up.

  How would he respond to her knowing? Refusing to pussyfoot around it any longer, she was about to find out. Too bad her breakfast was about to become a casualty.

  “Greg, I know you’re Mrs. Foster’s grandson. I’ve known for a few days now.”

  He set the serving spoon back in the dish and sighed. “What tipped you off?”

  She didn’t want to admit she’d snooped at someone’s gravesite. No, not really. If the wind hadn’t blown the card out, she never would have peeked. “Does it matter? Why couldn’t you tell me the truth in the first place?”

  “My reasons were solid. At least I thought so at the time. I just didn’t know how to bring it up once I’d started down that path.”

  “And now?”

  “Not so much. Let’s sit down and eat first.”

  She added some fruit to Derek’s plate. Greg was right. This wasn’t the place for this discussion, not in front of Derek. She nodded and set the plate in front of the boy. “Here you go. Lots of good things you love here. Potatoes. Eggs. Fruit.”

  He stared at the plate, dubious at first, then picked up a piece of the banana and popped it in his mouth. Perhaps by not offering him anything else, she could succeed in getting him to eat it. Tillie returned to the sideboard to prepare a plate of her own, but wasn’t particularly hungry any longer.

  The three ate to the sounds of Derek running his cars around his placemat. She didn’t make eye contact with Greg, unsure what to say without further ruining their meal.

  “Tillie.” At his voice, she glanced across the table. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t going to talk about the elephant in the room. “Thank you.”

  He glanced at Derek, who seemed oblivious to them both, and lowered his voice. “Let’s talk after Derek goes to bed.”

  “But I’m not sleepy, Daddy! I want to go to the zoo!”

  Both adults smiled at him, and Tillie appreciated having the tension cut somewhat.

  “Tonight, not now. I’m sure you’ll be worn out by the time we finish at the zoo. Eat your breakfast so we can head out.”

  Derek nodded and took a tentative bite of the hash browns. Then a bigger bite. “I like these!”

  “I thought you might,” Tillie said. She wished she could be as enthusiastic as he was, but merely took small bites with the pretense of eating. Thoughts of the confrontation she expected later this evening spoiled her appetite altogether.

  Why had she ever opened her big mouth? She’d ruined any chance with him because she’d been as dishonest as he had been by not letting on she knew who he was all along.

  If only she’d confronted him sooner.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tillie waited as long as she could for Greg and Derek to return, but couldn’t put off finishing her tree another minute. It was growing dark already. She’d prepared everything she possibly could, and her nervous energy was through the roof.

  Climbing up the ladder with a handful of ornaments, she hung them among the beads at the edges of the branches. These were some of her favorites, many of them from the fifties.

  “Oh, Mrs. Foster, what a mess I’ve gotten myself into. I never should have let down my guard.”

  In her mind, she could almost hear the dear woman chastising her for the pity party. Whenever she’d moped around or felt sorry for herself, Mrs. Foster always pointed out all she had to be grateful for.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’m quite lucky to have what I have. Not every woman is destined to find an honorable and loving man to be a part of her life.”

  For the first time, she wasn’t seeing herself as being unworthy of something—someone—she wanted. Why, Greg could do far worse than Matilda Hamilton. She smiled, her spirits lifting at last.

  More than an hour passed. Still no Greg and Derek. She’d repositioned the ladder periodically as she added the remaining ornaments and saw no reason not to finish up without them. As she descended for the topper, she hoped they hadn’t run into any trouble.

  In the open storage bin, she removed the golden-skirted angel from its box. The auburn-haired angel had topped the tree for as long as Tillie remembered. She always reminded Tillie of her benefactor, who’d certainly been an angel to her—letting her own such a beautiful home and have a security blanket like none she’d ever imagined as a little girl. No doubt, the woman watched over her to this day, given the sudden appearance of recipes and a niggling feeling she had of being watched. She wouldn’t assign that to anyone but Mrs. Foster, or she might be too creeped out to stay here alone.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, she longed for a chance to sit and have a cup of tea with Mrs. Foster tonight so she could pour her heart out. The lovely woman always made everything better.

  Tillie sighed. Glancing out the window nearly every time she saw headlights coming up the road, her pulse raced hoping that perhaps Greg and Derek were back, but each vehicle passed by her drive and her heartbeat slowed again. She simultaneously wanted them home and dreaded being with Greg again.

  Home? It wasn’t their home.

  Needing to get started on their supper, assuming they’d intended to eat here and not on the road, she hurried to finish up. She’d hoped to be able to wait until Derek returned to let him watch her put the angel on top, but he’d probably have wanted to do the honors and it was far too dangerous to have two people on the ladder at the same time.

  After fluffing up the angel’s skirt, she climbed the ladder once more, holding onto the tree topper by its waist. Unable to reach from the height she’d been working at, she ascended an additional rung. The ladder still had several more, but she never went beyond this one.

  Reaching over the top of the tree, she placed the plastic cone under the angel’s skirt firmly on the treetop. Perfect. Just one more thing. She always left a gold-colored light untucked and waiting for this part, but it apparently wasn’t lined up properly. Stretching a bit, she snagged it and settled it into the folded hands of the angel, illuminating her porcelain face.

  As beautiful as ever, Mrs. Foster.

  With one hand on the ladder and another still on the light, she’d almost finished when the ladder gave a slight bobble. Fear of topplin
g into the tree, she overcorrected, throwing off her balance.

  Oh no!

  The base of the ladder became unstable. Too late to right herself, she braced herself for the fall. Tillie closed her eyes. Time stood still as she fell until her right foot took the brunt of her weight upon landing, sending a sharp pain from her ankle to her knee seconds before her head hit the coffee table. The sound of breaking glass broke her heart as the room went black. Which precious ornaments had she destroyed with her clumsiness?

  Minutes—or was it hours?—later, she blinked her eyes open. The room had been cast in a rosy glow from the Christmas tree lights, but it was dark outside the windows. How long had she lain here? God, her head hurt.

  She should have it examined for finishing the tree decorating without waiting for Greg. But why would she? She’d decorated this tree annually for more than a decade without any mishaps.

  Opening her eyes, she took stock of her situation. The ladder lay over the top of the brocade empire sofa, but she didn’t see any damage to the frame. A candle had shattered after having been knocked off by the ladder. Was that the breaking glass she’d heard before blacking out? Glancing behind her at the tree, she didn’t see a single ornament lying on the floor. At least none of them had broken. She could easily replace a candle.

  She needed to set the room back to rights. She started to sit up when pain radiated through her ankle and up her leg.

  Ow!

  Tillie came to an abrupt stop as the room began spinning. When her eyesight cleared, she glowered at the source of the worst pain she’d experienced in her life. Her ankle had swollen to twice its size. It didn’t appear twisted enough to be broken, but what would she know about broken bones? She’d never injured anything before.

  I don’t have time for this!

  Blinking away tears of frustration, she reached for her phone, but these pants had no pocket. She surveyed the room to see where she’d set it down. Clearly, she needed help and most likely a visit to the emergency room. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as it seemed, but her luck seemed to be nil today.

  Damn. The phone sat on the sofa cushion partially under the ladder. Using her arms and elbows, she tried dragging herself in that direction until her stomach roiled and the room spun.

  Tillie slumped against the rug, burying her face in her arms as she tried to slow her panicked breathing. Mind over matter. As soon as the room stopped spinning, she’d drag herself over to that phone and call 911.

  Could she stay here until Greg came home? Why didn’t you wait for him in the first place, and then you wouldn’t be in this predicament? Because nothing irked her more than having to rely on someone else. She helped others, not the reverse. Still, Tillie had never wanted to see Greg walk through that door more than she did right now.

  The pain dulled a bit as long as she didn’t move her lower body. Yeah, with thinking like that, she could lie here in pain for hours.

  Suck it up, buttercup.

  Using what upper-body strength she could muster, she scooted inch by agonizing inch toward the sofa, dragging her throbbing ankle behind her. Another few feet, and she’d be there.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Greg’s Rover crossed the railroad tracks and made a left onto Tillie’s road. Derek sat conked out in the back seat again, but he had every reason to be tired. The zoo had been as intense and awesome as Tillie had told them to expect, but Greg hadn’t realized how big it would be or how slowly a five-year-old would navigate its many paths.

  Greg oddly found himself anxious to return to the quietude of the countryside—although he’d been dreading facing Tillie again all day. He’d dragged his feet as much as Derek had, albeit for different reasons.

  Why hadn’t he confessed to her sooner? Because he hadn’t expected this preposterous attraction to grow as strong as it had in the past day or so.

  She’d kept him so sidetracked he hadn’t even thought about his mission in a couple of days—finding the truth about Jesse James. As often as he could, he’d searched for false walls and hidden passageways without any success.

  Tillie appeared not to have heard the stories Gram told in her journals about Jesse James’s later visits to this house. While she had followed him around a while that one day, she’d helped him with Derek and had been kept busy with her many innkeeper duties the others, so he’d had free rein most of the time. Still, nothing. Whoever broke into her house had to be zeroing in on the wrong area. Eventually, he’d find the evidence he sought—and then what? Anything in the house was Tillie’s property now, not his. He was no thief.

  He pulled into the circular driveway. The only lights on were those from the Christmas tree in the parlor. Had Tillie gone to bed already? With Derek sound asleep, he’d try to put him straight to bed. They’d grabbed some McDonald’s on the way home and had eaten lunch at the zoo, so he shouldn’t be hungry. Then it would leave the evening open to finish the tree and for him to explain exactly why he’d come here.

  He sighed as he opened the driver’s side door. Tillie seemed genuinely kind and hospitable. Not at all the moneygrubber he’d expected to find when he set off on this journey. Greg wished she’d shift the focus of her marketing efforts from his grandmother to Jesse James.

  Why couldn’t she simply shift her focus to Jesse? He chuckled. She’d succeeded in charming him for sure. Hell, he’d liked her almost from the start, despite trying to convince himself otherwise. There was something about her that was so…right.

  What would he do if she did express a serious interest in having a long-distance relationship with him? Reciprocate? Reject her? Would he be willing to change to make a relationship work? What would he be willing to compromise?

  Everything but Derek.

  Sheesh! When had he become such a hopeless romantic?

  When you met Tillie, that’s when.

  The voice reverberating in his head sounded a lot like his grandmother.

  Tillie did have a special magic about her. Even the pancakes she made Derek, for Pete’s sake. He looked down at his sleeping son. Yeah, especially those damned pancakes. They’d charmed them both.

  Derek wouldn’t have any complaints if he decided to pursue something with Tillie. The two had hit it off from the first moment they’d met.

  He lifted Derek out of the car seat and carried him around the house to the front door. A quick peek through the window showed the tree topper was already in place. Damn it, why hadn’t she waited for him?

  Maybe she had. Hadn’t he promised to be back here hours ago?

  Tillie was as focused and driven as he, not one to rely on others for help.

  To imagine someone eighteen years old taking on the challenge of owning this monstrous old house and then to turn it into a profitmaking inn barely out of college was a testament to her intelligence and business acumen. But that she’d remained true to the character of the house had won him over more than anything else perhaps.

  Reaching into his pants pocket, he retrieved the key and opened the door while trying not to awaken Derek.

  Greg started toward the stairs.

  “Greg, come quick! I need you!” Tillie’s distraught voice sent him running, his heart hammering as he raced to the parlor where her voice seemed to originate. He entered the room and quickly surveyed the scene before him. Tillie lay on the floor near the couch, a fallen ladder nearby.

  Going over to the wing chair, he set down the still-sleeping Derek and hurried to Tillie’s side. One glance at her swollen ankle told him all he needed to know. Near the coffee table was a shattered candle jar. “Derek, be careful of the glass.” To her, he asked, “What happened?”

  “Fell. Stupid. Ladder.” She spoke each word with great effort.

  “How long have you been lying here?”

  She checked the fob watch pinned to her blouse. “About forty-five minutes to an hour ago as best I remember.”

  “You lost consciousness?”

  She nodded then grimaced. “Not for long.” Her words came
out in barely a whisper. She must be in a lot of pain.

  “Any concussion is serious, even if only a few minutes.”

  He couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke her forehead. Clammy. From pain or shock? Hell, what did he know? He wasn’t a medical person. “We need to get you to the ER.”

  He grabbed an afghan and throw pillow off the nearby rocking chair and placed the pillow under her head before covering her up.

  “Why didn’t you call me or someone else?”

  Why didn’t you get back here when you said you would?

  Guilt gut-punched him.

  Tillie pointed to the couch. “Phone’s up there. I tried to drag myself over to it. Nearly made it. So glad you’re here.” Her eyes glistened, and he knew that had taken a lot for her to admit.

  “What’s wrong with Miss Tillie, Daddy?” Derek approached, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “She fell and injured her foot,” he answered. “We’re going to take her to the hospital.”

  “Oh, Derek should be in bed, not spending the night in a crowded emergency department.”

  She must be delusional if she thought Derek’s having to sleep at the hospital was worse than them abandoning her there alone. “Is there anyone you’d like me to call to stay with you instead?”

  She glanced away. “No, not really.”

  How could someone whose middle name was hospitality be so alone? Had she isolated herself at the inn all these years?

  “Then you’ll have to put up with us. Let me go to the car and move Derek’s booster seat to the front so you can stretch out.” To Derek, he said, “Son, I want you to stay here next to Tillie and watch over her until I come back.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” The boy knelt beside her and patted her hand. Greg smiled at the maturity his son exhibited.

  He ran out of the house and moved the car to the end of the sidewalk before adjusting the seating arrangements, leaving the rear door open. Anxious to return to Tillie, he was in the parlor again in a few minutes, but it seemed like ninety.