“Hey, stop that! Megan wants a gazillion cookies.” She swatted him again. “Be good, or I’ll put you outside like Carl. He got in my way and look where he is now.” Kelly pointed to Carl, staring mournfully through the patio door.
“I’m trickier than Carl. You can’t lure me outside with kibbles.” He snitched another finger full of dough, then neatly dodged Kelly’s swipe of the wooden spoon, laughing all the while.
“Go away, I’m almost finished.” She scanned the recipe again.
“Mmmm, I taste cinnamon and something else,” he said, leaning against the counter as he licked his finger.
“Ground ginger. Lots of ginger. Okay, I think that’s it. At last.” She plunked the heavy bowl on the counter. “Brother, I’ve been at this for over an hour. These cookies better taste good.”
“Got any plans for that spoon?”
Kelly handed it over. “Here. I’ve gotta wrap this big mound of dough into a huge ball and put it in the fridge.”
“How long before you can bake them?” he asked between licks.
She pulled out a sheet of plastic wrap, then plopped the dough in the middle. “After the dough chills, I can roll it into little balls and then in sugar, then bake them. If you promise not to eat all the dough, you can help me. In fact, I’m gonna need help. That’s a big hunk of dough.”
“Be glad to help, but no promises about the dough,” Steve said as he dropped the spoon into the soapy dishwater in the sink then sidled up behind Kelly and slipped his arms around her waist. “Mmmm, you smell like cinnamon, too.”
“Not surprised. I thumped the bowl of flour and spices and a huge cloud floated up.” She settled into Steve’s warm embrace.
Steve sniffed the bare skin of her neck. “Do you smell like this all over?”
Kelly just laughed as she finished wrapping the huge ball of dough.
“Uhhh, how long does that have to chill?” he asked as she opened the fridge.
“About fifteen minutes or so, the recipe says.”
“I have an idea. Why don’t we warm up while the dough is cooling off?”
“I take it we’re having cookies and milk for dinner.”
“Beats dry kibbles. Just ask Carl.”
Eight
Kelly leaned over the café counter and dangled her mug at the waitress. “Hey, Julie, could you fill ’er up, please? I’ve got to drive to Bellevue Canyon.”
“Sure thing,” Julie said as she poured a steaming dark ribbon of coffee into the mug. “You taking a break this morning?”
“Nope, I’m going up to see a client.” Kelly unzipped her ski jacket. The café’s warmth made it unnecessary.
She’d need the jacket’s warmth later in the canyon. Jayleen’s ranch was midway to the top, approximately seventy-five hundred feet high. Definitely colder than Fort Connor’s altitude of five thousand feet. Temperatures in town now floated between the fifties and sixties. Still warm for December. Add to that, no precipitation in any form. No rain, let alone snow. At this rate, Kelly figured Christmas dinner would be a barbeque in Curt Stackhouse’s backyard.
“What’s in the box?” Julie pointed.
Kelly patted the cardboard box on the counter. “Gingersnap cookies. I’d give you one, but they’re all wrapped in plastic and foil. I’m trying to keep them safe for the holiday bazaar this weekend. I swear, Steve and I must have eaten over two dozen last night.”
“They sound delicious. Maybe I’ll drop by the bazaar and buy some,” Julie said as she headed for the tables, coffeepot in hand.
Kelly screwed the top of her mug and took a deep drink. It tasted so good, she took another. Then another. Savoring Eduardo’s brew, she glanced toward the folded newspaper a customer had left on the counter. Her gaze skimmed the headlines quickly. She hadn’t taken the time to check the newspaper this morning. One headline caught her attention.
Woman Killed in Late-Night Hit and Run, it read. No name, no details. Body was found last night. No witnesses, police report. Kelly thought the area where the accident occurred was in one of the older sections of town, not far from the university.
“Hey, you coming in for a break?” Lisa’s voice sounded from behind her. “I’ve got a few minutes before my next physical therapy appointment, so I thought I’d drop by.”
“Can’t right now. I’ve gotta go up into the canyon to see Jayleen. We’re going over her financial statements.” Kelly dropped the newspaper and retrieved the giant cookie box with one hand. “Is Mimi here? I thought these cookies would be safe with her.”
“Those are all cookies?” Lisa exclaimed. “Good Lord! How many did you make?”
“I doubled Aunt Helen’s recipe. There were supposed to be six dozen, but Steve and I gorged on them last night for dinner. So I think there’re only four dozen now.”
Lisa grinned. “So you really did make Helen’s gingersnaps. Good for you, Kelly. I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Kelly deflected the praise as they wound their way toward the knitting shop. “I was going to hand them over to Megan, but then I remembered Marty. Those cookies wouldn’t survive to the weekend if Marty was in the vicinity.”
“You got that right. Hey, there’s Burt. He’s trustworthy,” Lisa said, pointing across the adjacent yarn room.
“Who, me?” Burt teased as he approached, a plastic bag in his hand. A white wool fleece peeked from the top. “What’ve you got there, Kelly?”
“Cookies for the bazaar this weekend, and I need a safe place to hide them. They can’t stay at home, because Steve and I can’t be trusted. We went nuts last night.”
“She made Helen’s gingersnaps,” Lisa explained knowingly.
Burt’s eyebrows shot up. “You did! Wow, Kelly, I’m impressed. I thought you didn’t cook.”
“I don’t, so you can imagine what a sacrifice this effort entailed.” She handed the box to Burt. “I figured you and Mimi could be trusted better than Megan. Marty would sniff out anything she tried to hide.”
“It’ll be safe with us, Kelly,” Burt assured her. “We won’t even snitch. Until the bazaar, that is.” He winked.
“That’s okay. My job was to deliver them, and I’ve fulfilled my culinary obligation.” Kelly held her hand over the box. “May they rest in peace. Or pieces. Whatever. See you later, guys. I’ve gotta drive up into the canyon.”
“All hail, Cookie Chef,” Lisa called out as Kelly headed for the door.
Kelly stared at the snow-capped peaks in the distance. They were calling for more snow in the High Country this weekend. It would be great if she and Steve could take a weekday off and head for the ski slopes. Maybe Lisa and Greg could join them.
“Boy, it would be nice to escape one weekday and go skiing,” Kelly said as she and Jayleen walked down the wooden ranch house steps into the open barnyard. “But there’s no way I can swing it before the holiday. Too much work. And neither can Steve, not since he started another Old Town project. If we’re lucky, our schedules should both lighten around Christmas.”
Jayleen hooked her fingers through the belt loops of her jeans as they walked. “Funny, isn’t it? The more successful you get, the busier you get. You’d think you would have more time to enjoy it, but you don’t. You’re too busy working.”
“I know what you mean. Now that those Wyoming gas wells are producing, I’ve had to brush up on the rules and regulations of royalty accounting. That’s the problem with being your own CPA. You can’t hand the work over to someone else.” Kelly stopped and took in the stunning view of the Rockies. “I’ve always loved this view. It’s so gorgeous.”
“Yeah, it is,” Jayleen said with a sigh. “Every time I get a little anxious about the future, I come out here and stare at those mountains. They calm me down.”
“I still feel a little twinge, knowing I almost had a place up here.”
Jayleen glanced her way. “You’ll find a place someday, Kelly. That ranch wasn’t for you. Bad juju, remember?”
“I remember,�
� Kelly said with a chuckle as she and Jayleen strolled past the barn. “Listen, Jayleen, you have no reason to be anxious. Your accounts are in good order. Your alpaca business is growing, and I might add, prospering.” She gave her friend a pat on the back.
Jayleen scuffed her boots through the barnyard dirt. “You know, that still sounds so funny. The idea of my being prosperous. Lord a’mighty, I never envisioned it.”
“Well, you’ve worked hard, Jayleen, and you were willing to take some risks to succeed. Calculated risks. And they’re paying off.”
“Thank God,” Jayleen said as they approached the corral. Several alpaca milled about the corral, watching them. The brave ones came right up to the fence. A big smoke gray male pushed his face over the fence at Kelly.
“Hey, Zuni, how’re you doing, big boy?” Kelly said, stroking the alpaca’s neck and rubbing his nose at the same time. Zuni responded by pushing his face up closer.
“He wants a kiss,” Jayleen teased.
Kelly nuzzled Zuni. “You saved my life, didn’t you, Zuni? If not for you, I wouldn’t be alive.” She patted him again. “He looks great, Jayleen. His coat is full already.”
“Just about. It’s been so warm lately, the animals don’t know what to make of it.”
“If it keeps up like this, we may be celebrating Christmas dinner outside with a barbeque at Curt’s ranch.”
Jayleen laughed, then gazed out at the mountains for a full minute before speaking. “He wants to give me a horse.”
Kelly stroked Zuni’s neck, not sure what Jayleen was talking about. “Who wants to give you a horse?”
“Curt.”
“Really? That’s cool. I’ll bet it’s Seeker. That’s your favorite, right? You were riding him the last time Steve and I came out to ride with you and Curt.”
Jayleen scuffed the dirt in the barnyard again, staring at her boots. “Yeah. Seeker’s a good horse. He’s a pleasure to ride. Curt says he wants to scale down his livestock. You know, cut back a little.”
Kelly did a mental check of Curt’s stables. “That makes sense. Curt will have six horses left. That’s plenty for his family and grandkids.”
“Yeah.” She scuffed the dirt again.
Kelly stared at her friend. Something was obviously bothering Jayleen. Normally the plain-talking, straight-shooting Jayleen had no trouble speaking her mind. But for some reason she was hesitating. What on earth . . . ?
Out of the corner of Kelly’s mind, a little idea wiggled. Well, well, well. It’s finally happened. Colorado Rancher Curt had started to court rough-around-the-edges Jayleen. At last.
Kelly decided to test the waters, but she also knew her friend. She’d have to circle around Jayleen and hope she’d start talking.
“It sounds like you don’t want to accept the gift, Jayleen. I know how you feel about paying your own way all the time, and that’s a great rule. For strangers. But it’s okay to accept gifts from friends.”
Jayleen glanced at Kelly then stared out at the mountains again. “You’re right, Kelly. It’s just that . . .”
“What?” Kelly gently prodded.
Jayleen expelled a huge breath. “It’s just that I know what it means. What it really means.”
“It means he’s giving you a horse. You’ll have to feed it, stable it.”
Jayleen shot her an impatient look. “You know what I mean, Kelly. When a man starts giving a woman gifts, well, then, it usually leads to something. And . . . and I don’t think I can go there.”
“Where?” Kelly tried to hold a straight face until Jayleen shot her another “look.” Then, Kelly broke into laughter. “Sorry, Jayleen. I couldn’t help it.”
Jayleen tossed her graying blonde curls over her shoulder. “You can laugh, but it’s not funny. When a man starts paying attention to a woman, that means he’s serious. And I cannot get serious about any man.”
“Why not?” Kelly figured the best thing she could do would be to keep playing devil’s advocate and provide a sounding board for Jayleen.
Jayleen rolled her eyes. “You know damn well why not! Face it, Kelly, I’m a two-time loser. And a drunk—”
“Alcoholic,” Kelly corrected. “You’ve been sober ten years, you said.”
“Eleven, actually. But this sort of thing could drive me to drink. I swear it could. I had to swear off men when I swore off booze.”
Kelly blinked. “Really?”
“Yep, men have always been my weakness. I get messed up with all that stuff, and then I’m a goner.”
“That was ten, uh, eleven years ago, Jayleen.”
“Men are addictive. Just like liquor.”
“I think you mean sex.”
“Same thing.” Jayleen shrugged. “Men and sex. That’s why I’m always keeping an eye out for Jennifer.” She shook her head. “That girl reminds me waaaay too much of me. I was out on the town all the time.”
Kelly pondered what Jayleen said. At least Jennifer didn’t drink that much. Well, too much. Usually. But the men . . . yeah . . . Jayleen had a point there. Jennifer was with a different guy every week.
“Jayleen, I worry about Jennifer, too. But we’re not talking about her. We’re talking about you and Curt here. If ever there was a man you could trust, it would be Curt.”
“You’re right,” Jayleen said with a sigh, staring off. “It’s just that I’m afraid to start down that path again.”
Kelly had to smile. Colorado Cowgirl Jayleen was skittish. Kelly could understand that. She’d been skittish herself about getting into a serious relationship with Steve. Her friends had teased her mercilessly for months about moving so slowly. But old baggage from Kelly’s past kept getting in the way. She’d found the “right guy” once before, years ago. Or so she thought. Turned out, she was wrong. All Kelly knew for sure was that relationships were risky, and they often ended in loss.
But last winter, all of Kelly’s hesitation was swept away one snowy February afternoon. Nearly losing her life in a car crash had brought everything into clear focus. Steve had won her heart and her trust months ago. They belonged together.
“Why don’t you just take it one step at a time, Jayleen? Curt’s giving you a horse, not a diamond, for Pete’s sake.”
Jayleen snickered.
Emboldened, Kelly reverted once again to humor. “I mean, this is Curt we’re talking about. Upstanding Colorado Rancher, stalwart, still good-looking—”
“A fine figger of a man,” Jayleen joined in with a laugh.
“Face it, Jayleen, the most Curt might do is invite you to his place for a bowl of chili.”
Jayleen hooted with laughter. “Don’t be too sure of that, Kelly girl. Curt’s got that look. I can always tell.”
“Okay, okay.” Kelly went along. “I’ll make you a promise. If Curt invites you over for dinner some evening, give me a call, and Steve and I will come along.”
Jayleen snickered again. “As chaperones? Damn, girl, Curt and I are too old for that.”
She caught Jayleen’s eye. “In that case, just give me a sign, and we’ll be out the door in a flash.”
The sound of both women’s laughter rang throughout the barnyard, startling the alpaca away from the fence and two ravens from a cottonwood tree. The large birds squawked as they flew off, their ebony wings flashing in the Colorado sunshine.
Kelly leaned over her computer keyboard and grabbed her ringing cell phone.
Mimi’s voice came, breathless. “Kelly, where have you been? I couldn’t get through to you on your phone earlier.”
“I was up in the canyon with Jayleen, then my cell phone ran out of juice. Why, what’s up?”
“Did you read the paper this morning? Did you see the article about the hit-and-run last night?” Mimi’s voice went up higher.
“Yes, I did. What’s the matter, Mimi? Was it someone you knew?”
“Yes, yes, it was. It was someone we both knew. It was Juliet Renfrow. You and Jennifer helped her at the church knitting class, remember? Juliet bri
ngs those beautiful capes every holiday. She . . . she was run over by a car and killed last night.”
“What! Are you sure it was Juliet?”
“Yes, it was her. I had a call from a friend who worked with Juliet at the library. Police found her last night lying there on the pavement . . . dead. That’s so awful I can’t bear to think about it.” Mimi started sniffling.
“My God . . .” was all Kelly could think of to say. She sat and stared at the computer screen but saw nothing. All she could see was Juliet—the little brown wren—standing proudly in the middle of the knitting shop in her beautiful Christmas cape.
Nine
Kelly looked up from her knitting. Steve’s alpaca wool scarf was heading into the home stretch. “Have the cops learned anything new?” she asked as Burt pulled out a chair beside Mimi at the knitting table.
“No, not yet. They’ve interviewed the nearby neighbors, but no one reported hearing any disturbance outside. They were probably asleep or watching television. Plus, the houses are set back farther from the street in that older section of town. And most residents have tall shrubbery and hedges designed to keep out noise. Lots of college students live in those old sections now, so there’s always a problem with loud parties and noise.”
“Tragic, simply tragic,” Hilda said in a mournful tone as a bright blue hat came to life on her needles. “Our little brown wren cut down after the happiest day of her life.”
“Please, Hilda, no more,” Lizzie begged softly as her fingers worked the green mittens. “I cannot bear to think about it. It’s too awful.”
Kelly kept silent, unwilling to add any more sad comments this morning. She and Mimi, Hilda, and Lizzie had spent the last hour sharing their shock at Juliet’s sudden death and their sorrow for her loss. Kelly hadn’t known Juliet very long, but she’d liked the dedicated librarian and talented fiber artist. Juliet clearly loved creating gorgeous fiber art and sharing it with children. It was such a shame that she had fallen victim to a senseless, tragic accident.
“Any hope the cops will catch the driver?”
Knitting 06 - Fleece Navidad Page 9