by Diane Moody
“Take it, honey. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Now sit. I’ll have these eggs cooked in a jiffy. I put some cream cheese in them for you.”
“You remembered. You’re too good to me, Aunt Nita.” Keri took a seat at the counter, releasing a heavy sigh.
Nita turned, still stirring the gooey egg mixture with a wooden spoon. “Now, Keri, you’ve got to let this go. It’s all going to work out. We need to be thankful that no one was hurt tonight. And thank goodness the Blankenships hadn’t moved in yet. Think of what could have happened.”
Keri dropped her head in her hands with a moan. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“You didn’t? That was the first thought I had when I saw those flames. I thanked God no one was sleeping in that house yet.”
Keri looked up, shaking her head. “What kind of horrible person am I? That thought never crossed my mind. All I could think of was Dad, and how much this would upset him. And . . .”
“And?”
She took another sip of the steaming coffee and set the mug back on the counter. “And how it would affect me. If it would affect how much Dad could pay me this year.” She rubbed her face. “How’s that for compassion?”
Nita scraped the eggs out of the black iron skillet onto two separate plates, then pulled a tray of biscuits from the oven. She set them on the stove. “Grab some orange juice for us, will you?”
Keri knew her aunt too well. Nita avoided answering the question Keri put out there, but she knew an answer would come. And knowing Nita, she was praying for wisdom even as she dished up bacon to put on their plates.
When they finally sat down on the bar stools, Nita unfolded the cloth napkin and laid it across her lap. Keri followed suit, knowing the ritual. Her aunt reached for her hand and bowed her head.
“Father, we thank You for Your mercy and grace. We thank You for protecting everyone tonight during this horrible fire. Lord, we trust You with every smidgen of our lives, and we’re trusting You with this one as well. Bring Tyler home safely. Protect him as he travels. And prepare the Blankenships for this devastating news. May they feel Your presence even in their hour of sadness.”
She squeezed Keri’s hand. “And Father, please comfort my sweet Keri. Lord, cover her with Your peace and understanding. Help her to know that all things truly do work together for good for those who know and love You. Help her to trust You in the days ahead as she pursues her goals. But more than anything, Lord, help her to rest in Your open arms. Let her feel those arms around her even now.
“Thank You for Your blessings and the food for which we are about to partake. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
She squeezed Keri’s hand again, but Keri couldn’t speak.
“So eat, already! The girls tell me their food always gets cold when I pray, but I just can’t help it. Prayer diarrhea, what can I say? C’mon. Take a bite.”
Keri smiled as she picked up her fork. “Nita, Nita, Nita. What am I going to do with you?”
Nita shrugged with a chuckle as she buttered a fat biscuit.
“How are the girls these days? I haven’t seen them yet.”
“Oh my goodness, they’re ornery as ever. Which is why I love them so much. Peas in a pod and all that. Stop by Chandlers on your way to the office and say hello, okay? They’re all dying to hug your neck.”
Keri took a bite of the enormous fluffy biscuit. “Mmmm . . . oh Aunt Nita, this is so good. I didn’t know I was so hungry.”
“Of course you are. You eat like a bird if I’m not around. You’ve lost weight, missy, and I aim to fatten you up while you’re home. I’ll send you back to New York absolutely waddling.” Nita laughed in the warm, boisterous way Keri had always loved. How could the sound of someone’s laughter bring so much comfort?
“Like I’m going to let that happen?” But she knew it would be a battle. “Then again, these eggs are to die for. No one makes them better.”
They chatted over the rest of their meal and Keri even succumbed to Nita’s offer of a second biscuit. Dawn was just breaking, so there was no need to rush to the office yet. Dad wouldn’t be home for several more hours. After they cleaned the kitchen, they settled into the den over another cup of coffee. Muffy scampered into Nita’s lap and settled in for a nap as rumble of thunder gently shook the house.
“I was wondering when that storm would arrive,” Nita mused, sipping her coffee.
“Wouldn’t be Oregon if it didn’t storm everyday.” Keri lifted the framed picture from the table beside the sofa. “Oh Nita, I miss Uncle Rafe so much.”
Nita smiled, setting her mug on the coffee table. “I know, sweetie. I do too. Not a day goes by that I don’t talk to him, laugh with him. He’s still my best friend. After all these years.”
Keri caressed the pictured face of her uncle. It was Rafe Sanders who first sparked a love for journalism in Keri’s heart. A war correspondent for the Associated Press, Rave had traveled all over the world covering some of the biggest stories of his time. His lively tales of daring adventures in far-off lands like Vietnam, South Africa, Iraq, and Israel had planted a burning desire in her to follow in his footsteps. She was only thirteen when he was killed in a bombing in Bosnia. The pain of his loss still haunted her, but it was also the driving force in her quest to carry on the work he loved so much.
“And oh, how he loved you, Keri.” Nita’s smiling eyes misted. “You were the daughter he never had. He would have given you the moon had you asked.”
Keri smiled. “And didn’t I know it? He spoiled me rotten. Remember that Christmas when I asked for a Belle doll from Beauty & the Beast?”
“How could I forget? He was in Europe and once he heard his Keri wanted that doll, there was nothing doing, but he had to get you an authentic Belle from Paris. Nothing was too good for his Keri.”
“I was so proud of that doll! All my other friends got theirs from Wal-Mart, but not me. My Uncle Rafe made sure I had the real Belle. I was convinced he bought that doll in Belle’s little village, the same one in the movie.”
Keri fingered the tiny heart-shaped necklace against her skin. It was Rafe’s last gift to her, on her thirteenth birthday. You’re a teenager now, princess. And a princess must have diamonds! I didn’t think you’d wear a tiara to school, so I thought this would do instead.
She’d never taken it off.
With a deep breath, she stood up, carrying her mug to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get moving before I fall asleep. I need to meet Carson at the office in another hour and call the insurance company.”
Nita followed her, stifling a yawn. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a nap first? It’s going to be a long day, honey.”
Keri snuggled into the arms of her aunt. “Can’t. If I lie down, I’ll never get up.” She pecked her on the cheek, and headed for the laundry room.
Nita followed. “I’ll be at the Christmas tree lot this afternoon. The trees should arrive around three or four.”
Keri pulled the warm clothes from the dryer. “Is it that time already? I can’t believe it.”
“Good heavens, yes. In fact, we’re behind schedule. Our growers had a sudden death in the family. Normally we’re set up and selling the day after Thanksgiving, but what can you do? As long as we make enough to put in a new playground for the kids at church, I’m happy. Last year we had such good sales, we were able to put a new steeple on the sanctuary.”
Keri folded Nita’s flannel pajamas. “Still the Christmas Tree Queen of Waterford Bay, aren’t you? Gotta love it.” Keri disappeared into the guest room to change her clothes.
“Will we see you at Chandlers later this morning?” Nita chimed down the hall.
“Sure. I’ll try to stop by after I meet with Carson,” Keri answered, pulling on her jeans, still warm from the dryer. “I’m not sure what time but I’ll come by. Hopefully before Dad gets back.” She finished dressing and rounded the corner where her aunt leaned against the wall.
“What? Why are you looking at me like th
at?” she asked, pulling on her jacket.
The mischief had returned to Nita’s face. “Me? Mischievous? Not a chance. Just don’t forget to stop by.”
With that, her aunt sashayed down the hall humming an old Tony Bennett tune. Keri couldn’t place the song, but was more concerned by her aunt’s elusiveness. She knew Nita had something up her sleeve.
She hoped it had nothing to do with the new editor of the local paper.
Chapter 3
In any other part of the country, a cold and rainy morning would scare away the customers. Not so at Chandlers Restaurant in Waterford Bay, Oregon. These were the mornings that filled the blue checkered tables and sold out the morning’s triple batch of cinnamon rolls. The bell rang constantly as customers came and went, their chatter about the big fire buzzing from one table to the next.
“Nita, when did you say Tyler is due back?” Theta Morris asked while putting her rain bonnet back on, tying it beneath her ample chin. Theta, Arlene and Marla—Nita’s “girls”—had discussed the fire for more than an hour at their usual booth, first on the right-hand side of the cozy restaurant.
“Any time now,” Nita answered. “I just wish he’d get here. I’ll feel better once I talk to him face to face. And I know Keri’s just worried sick for him. Lord, that poor child needs her daddy’s hug about now, I expect.”
Arlene rose first, Theta and Marla following suit, as they so often did. “Well, you tell him we’re mighty sorry and we’re all praying for him.”
“Let us know if there’s anything we can do, will you?” Marla asked, buttoning her slicker.
“I will, dear.”
Theta gave Nita a hug. “And you tell that niece of yours to stop by and see us later, okay? Goodness, hasn’t that child had enough heartache for one lifetime?”
“I know,” Nita sighed. “But we’ll get her through this. And Tyler too. See you girls later at the tree lot. If we don’t all float away first.”
The three ladies slowly made their way out the front door. Nita looked at her watch, disappointed that Keri hadn’t arrived in time to see her friends. Of course, Keri wasn’t the only one who hadn’t shown up yet . . . She’d put in a call to Grant shortly after Keri left her house, encouraging him to drop by the restaurant.
“What’s up, Nita?” he’d asked.
“Oh nothing. Just thought it’d be nice to sit and chat after such a difficult morning.”
He’d chuckled then promised he’d try to stop by.
She leaned over for a better look at the front door, disappointed her plans hadn’t come together. She dug into her purse, foraging for her lipstick when the bell over the door rang once more.
“One cinnamon roll. That’s it. And then we’ll go. I promise, Dad.”
A smile lifted the lips she’d just painted when she heard Grant’s voice. She looked up in time to see him ushering in his father as both men shed their raincoats. Another twinge of disappointment hit her, wishing Grant had just come alone. She hadn’t seen Shep in months. Rarely did. He’s such an odd duck, that one, always staying to himself. Never offering so much as a hello or how are you.
Years ago when his wife died, she and the girls had all taken meals to him. As members of The Circle at their church, it was routine—a simple act of benevolence in times of grief. But Shep had hardly said thanks when they arrived with their piping hot dishes, the old man mumbling about them not needing to do it. They didn’t get their Pyrex dishes back for over a year. One day Arlene found them stacked on the steps of the church with a short note. “Thanks. Shep.”
But Nita had never held it against him, knowing he was mostly just shy. Some people are just like that. Still, you’d think after all these years he would have been awfully lonely living out there on that boat all by himself. When Grant arrived in town, she was shocked to find out the handsome new newspaper editor was the old man’s son. Grant was outgoing, personable, and quite charming. Must have gotten that from his mother, she mused, watching them now.
“Good morning, Nita—again,” Grant greeted as they approached a nearby table.
“Hi Grant. Nice to see you, Shep.” She noticed the elder Dawson avoided eye-contact, merely nodding. “Why don’t you all join me here? My girls just left and I’m not ready to leave just yet. Thought I’d wait out the downpour.”
Shep shot a look of desperation at his son, one that Nita didn’t miss. She chuckled silently, not at all surprised.
Grant looked back and forth between them. “Dad, okay with you if we—”
“Oh, c’mon,” she said, scooting over in the booth. “I’d love the company. Besides, Clara just took a fresh pan of rolls out of the oven. Can’t you smell them?”
Grant smiled and clapped his dad on the back, directing him into the other side of Nita’s booth. “You drive a hard bargain. We’d love to join you, wouldn’t we, Dad?”
An uneasy smile spread beneath Shep’s heavy white mustache. “Well . . .”
Clara stopped by with fresh mugs of coffee before taking their order. The bell over the door rang yet again. Nita had to lean over to see around Clara, pleased to find Keri stomping her boots on the welcome mat.
“Keri, sweetie, over here,” she called.
Keri made her way to the booth, then stopped abruptly when she saw the two men seated across from her aunt. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were alone.”
Grant stood up. “Miss McMillan.”
A tight smile. “Mr. Dawson.”
Nita waved her niece over to sit beside her. “Oh, for the love of Pete, can we dispense with all the formality? Grant. Grant’s dad, Shep. Keri. Nita. There. We’re all on a first name basis now.”
Keri settled into the booth next to her aunt, wishing with all her heart she could run right back out into the rain. Like she needed another get acquainted chat with this ridiculous man and his father? She busied herself shedding her raincoat and hat, hanging them on the booth’s side hook behind her.
“Well, now, isn’t this nice?” Nita offered, her smile stretched wide.
Silence.
Grant cleared his throat. “Any news on the fire?”
Keri looked up at him, not wanting to discuss something so painful with this stranger. But his eyes stopped her cold. There was sincerity in those clear blue eyes. She started to answer, but nothing came out.
I really want to hate this guy. He threw away everything I’ve wanted my entire life. A perfect job with one of the top newspapers in the country. To come here? To this tiny excuse for a town with its pathetic little newspaper?
Instead pressed her lips together and toyed with the napkin. “No. Dad called a few minutes ago. He’s only about a half hour out.” She turned to her aunt. “That’s why I stopped by. I wanted you to come back to the site with me. I think we should both be there when he arrives.”
“Mind if I come along?” Grant asked, interrupting. “If there’s any news, I’d like to include it in my feature on the story.”
Keri took a deep breath, trying not to show her aggravation. She leveled a gaze at him, choosing her words carefully. “Our conversation will be private. But it’s a free country. Do what you have to do. Just stay out of the way.”
“Keri!” Nita laughed nervously. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Grant is only trying to do his job.”
Keri shrugged, digging her thumbnail into a blue line on the tablecloth. “It’s been a long day. What can I say?”
“Oh honey, don’t let it get to you. Once you see your father, I’m sure you’ll feel better.”
“My apologies,” Grant said quietly. “I realize this is hard on you. On all of you.”
Keri blew out a sigh. “No, I’m the one who needs to apologize.” She stole a brief look at him. “Sorry.”
He nodded, apparently accepting her apology. “I’m sure you’ll learn more once your dad gets here and has a chance to talk with the insurance folks. In cases of suspected arson, it usually—”
Keri felt her teeth grinding. “I
’m sure we’ll handle it, Mr. Dawson.”
“Grant.”
“Whatever. Dad is perfectly capable of dealing with the insurance people.” She took a sip of coffee hoping he’d get the hint. It’s none of your business.
“Honey, Grant is just trying to help,” Nita added quietly.
Keri ignored her. “Besides, don’t you have a paper to publish?”
She watched his eyebrows rise along with a shrug and upheld hands. “Message delivered. Loud and clear.”
Clara returned with a plate full of rolls and topped off their coffee. “Enjoy.”
Grant grabbed the ticket and stuffed it in his pocket. “Ladies? May I?” He lifted one of the hot confections onto a small serving plate and handed it to Nita.
As he started to dish a second one, Keri held up her hand. “Thanks, but I’ll take a pass. I’m still full from your breakfast, Nita.”
Her aunt took a bite and wiped her mouth. “What’s one got to do with the other?” She barked a laugh and cut another piece of the gooey roll.
Keri smiled, then caught Grant’s dad stealing a look at her aunt. She noticed the slightest upward twitch in that bushy mustache of his. When his eyes tracked to Keri’s, his weathered face reddened before he quickly busied himself with another sip of coffee. Keri remembered the scruffy whaleboat captain from her high school days. All the kids at school thought he was mute, as he never spoke a word on his rare visits to town. They conjured up all kinds of stories to explain his silence, including a crazy tale about a whale rising up out of the water and lunging at the captain as he stood on the deck of his boat. “Bit the tongue right off him,” the adolescent legend claimed. Then, just a couple of years ago she was shocked to hear him say hello one day as they passed on the street.
Grant interrupted her thoughts. “Look, I honestly meant no harm. And I certainly don’t want to intrude on your family at a time like this. Just do me one favor.”