A Little Town in Texas

by Bethany Campbell

  “But, honey,” she said, “what about Jennifer? We’d have to take her out of school—”

  “Hell,” J.T. said, “she can do her lessons by correspondence. Cal’s kids do. And travel’s an education in itself. Let’s take her to see all this stuff while I’ve still got a hike or two left in me. How about it? Want to leave Crystal Creek for a while, and see the world?”

  “Oh, J.T.,” she said. Her voice was trembling with disbelieving happiness. “A whole year?”

  “A whole year,” he said. “Like a long second honeymoon. We need to be together more. We need—to talk more.”

  He kissed her. She pressed close to him, opening her lips. And with hunger and confidence, J.T. began to make love to his wife.

  EPILOGUE

  LETTIE MAE REESE’S retirement party at the Double C was going to be the social event of the year. Nora, arm in arm with Ken, couldn’t stop smiling. It was the biggest spread J.T. had ever thrown.

  He had flown in every member of Lettie Mae’s far-flung family—her cousins, her brother, her sister, her two half sisters, even an elderly aunt. Tyler and Ruth came back from California. Cal and Serena came back from Mexico, where Cal was arranging to sell his share of a brewery.

  Even Kitt and Mel made it back from New York.

  Kitt, still limping slightly, even wore a gray silk pantsuit and had her hair upswept. “Who are you?” Ken demanded with mock sternness when he saw her. “What have you done with Kitt Mitchell?”

  She only laughed and nestled closer to Mel. His bandages were off, but the cut across his lip was clearly going to leave a scar.

  “What’s Fabian got you working on now?” Nick asked his brother.

  “I’m supposed to be forming a charitable trust,” Mel said wryly. “The general consensus is that he needs to start paying more attention to PR. A helluva lot more.”

  “That’s been clear for years,” Nick said skeptically. “Who convinced him?”

  “Ma,” Mel said with a rueful laugh. “She didn’t like what people said about him after the flood fiasco. Before she ignored his reputation. Now she’s on his case.”

  “He’s going to pay a fortune in damages,” Nick observed.

  “But he’ll do it like a pussycat,” Mel said. “Or Ma will get him.”

  “And so will you,” Kitt said, hugging his arm. “I think your official position now is the corporation’s conscience.”

  Nick raised a dark brow satirically. “We’ll have to get you a nice Jiminy Cricket suit. Spats. Top hat. The umbrella. Whole shebang.”

  One guest who surprised Nora was J.T.’s cousin, Bret McKinney, from Idaho. Nora hadn’t seen him for so many years that she’d almost forgotten his existence.

  Serena took her aside and told her his story. For the past nineteen years, Bret McKinney had been foreman of a large ranch in Portola Valley, Idaho. Now the ranch’s owner was embroiled in a battle with the Bureau of Land Management. Bret was sick of being in the middle of the mess.

  Bret was a handsome man, tall with a burly chest and surprisingly slim hips. In his early fifties, he had thick dark hair without a trace of gray. His eyes were black, his nose was roman, but imperfectly so, his mouth was thin, and his jaw was stubborn.

  Serena said he was a widower with three grown sons. Several unmarried women, like Kasey and Sandra Thurman, were eyeing this new, single man with considerable interest. Nora didn’t blame them.

  And, Serena confided, J.T. had reached a decision and would be making an important public statement tonight.

  Nora’s throat tightened. She and Ken had made a choice themselves. But they would tell J.T. before anyone else. In private and after he announced his own news.

  And announce it he did. He asked for quiet and put his arm around Cynthia. He raised his wineglass and said, “Friends, neighbors, to my cousin Bret McKinney. Bret’s coming back to Texas in two weeks. He’s going to manage the Double C. While I take my beautiful wife and daughter on a long trip—to celebrate my retirement. We’ll be back. This will always be our home. But I’m turning the business end over to Bret.”

  Some people gasped, some smiled knowingly. Cal applauded and hooted. Tyler grinned and nodded with approval. Lynn blinked back sentimental tears and clapped as hard as she could.

  The crowd drank a toast to Bret, who looked uncomfortable at the attention. Then Cal toasted J.T. and Cynthia and their trip, and Tyler toasted Cal, and wished the Three Amigos success. The other two “Amigos” hadn’t been able to come, and Cal said it was just as well. It would have turned into a different sort of shindig. Those boys partied hard.

  Then there were countless toasts to Lettie Mae, until Nora’s head was starting to spin from so many salutations and sips of champagne. But then the toasts and well-wishing were over, and the party went back to normal. People gathered around Lettie Mae’s niece, LaTasha, who could play piano and sing the most soulful blues north of New Orleans.

  Ken seized Nora by the hand and led her through the crowd. Nora’s breath caught in her chest as Ken tapped J.T. on the shoulder. “We need to have a word with you in private,” Ken said.

  THEY WERE IN J.T.’s private study. J.T. stared at Nora with something akin to horror. “Sell the Longhorn?” he said in disbelief.

  Nora lifted her chin. “Yes. I got the offer almost two weeks ago. It hasn’t been an easy decision, but I’m going to take it. I—I have a teaching job lined up in Fredericksburg next spring.”

  Suddenly J.T. had a piercing headache. He wanted to put his hand to his forehead and groan, possibly even whine. But he loved Nora, and he knew he had to spare her his disappointment. It would be a selfish display.

  But good Lord, hadn’t he made enough concessions to change? Lettie Mae was leaving—that alone would alter his life profoundly.

  Brian Fabian hadn’t won the land war, but neither had J.T., not completely. Crystal Creek would change. Not as radically as Fabian had threatened. But change it would, and he could not stop it.

  The helicopter was gone, sold to a Dallas millionaire the first day J.T. put it up for sale. He was uprooting himself from his beloved ranch for a whole year. Face it, hell, he really was retiring.

  Couldn’t something stay the same? The Longhorn was the very heart of the town. He couldn’t count the breakfasts and lunches he’d eaten there with his cronies. He couldn’t number the cups of coffee he’d drunk there over years too many to count.

  Yet he could see from the protective look on Ken’s face and the almost pleading one on Nora’s: this was what she wanted.

  “J.T.,” she said, “the Longhorn won’t change. I get to pick the new manager. I’m asking Kasey to do it for me. It’ll stay just the way it is.”

  It won’t be the same without you, he wanted to say. He did not say it. Instead he put his hands on Nora’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “May all your dreams come true,” he said.

  “Thank you, J.T.,” she said. “We’ll tell other people later. This is Lettie Mae’s party. But we sign the papers tomorrow, and we wanted you to be the first to know.”

  J.T. gave Ken a look of mock sternness. “You’re not going to quit on me, are you?”

  “Nope,” Ken said. “I plan to stay on until I’m old as Grandpa Hank was.”

  “Good,” J.T. said gruffly. “Good to know. Now, get back to the party, you two.”

  They left. For a moment J.T. heard the sounds of the party, and LaTasha Reece belting out “Middle Aged Blues Boogie.” The door shut and he stood alone in relative silence for a moment.

  Then Cynthia came with a worried expression on her face. “J.T.,” she said, “why are you all by yourself in here? Is something wrong?”

  He sighed and told her about Nora selling the Longhorn.

  Cynthia’s eyes shone with sympathy. “Oh, you’ll miss her, won’t you, darling? But I’m so glad she’ll finally get to do what she really loves.”

  “I’m glad, too,” J.T. said, embracing his wife. “I’m glad for all of us. We’re lucky people, C
ynthia.”

  “Yes, we are,” she whispered.

  HAND IN HAND, Kitt and Mel had drifted to the patio. Only a few people had gathered there. Mel intended to get Kitt in a secluded corner of the garden and kiss her enough to show her he had fine plans for later in the evening.

  But Dr. Purdy detached himself from a small group and made his way toward them. He looked Kitt up and down. “How’s that ankle?”

  “It’s going to be fine,” she assured him. “A little tender still, that’s all.”

  “That’s normal,” muttered Nate, “normal.” Then he took a step closer to Mel and scrutinized his lip. “Humph,” he said. “That’s going to leave a scar, I’m afraid. Well, with what plastic surgery is today—”

  “No,” Mel said firmly. He shook his head. “I don’t want it removed.”

  “No?” Nate repeated in surprise. “Think about it, son. The operation wouldn’t be that serious. And once over, no scar at all.”

  Mel touched his upper lip. “No,” he said again. “I’ll keep it. It’s part of who I am.”

  He smiled and nodded goodbye to Nate. He led Kitt deeper into the shadows of the garden. He’d been rehearsing a speech all night. He had the ring in his pocket.

  But when they stopped beside the gate, the speech stuck in his throat. He, usually so glib, could not get out a word. He could only take the blue velvet box from his pocket, open it so she could see the glitter of the diamond, and hold it toward her. He could not put in words what he wanted to say. He could only look into her eyes.

  She seemed struck almost as mute as he was. “Oh,” she managed to whisper. “Yes. Yes.”

  She held out her hand. He slipped the ring on her finger. He put his arms around her, bent and kissed her in a way that told her much more than any speech, no matter how eloquent.

  From the house came LaTasha’s strong, young, beautiful voice. Overhead, stars sparkled in a cloudless sky.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-3639-4

  A LITTLE TOWN IN TEXAS

  Copyright © 2003 by Bethany Campbell.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  Visit us at www.eHarlequin.com