“I’ve heard that.” Abbie lifted her chin, pointing at the next carton. “What’s that?”
“These are the wines from Brady’s.” He set a bottle in front of her.
Her gaze followed his movements as he removed each bottle from the box. “Ooh, they do a Pinot Grigio. I like that.”
“They do a Pinot Noir too. And of course a Cabernet.” He lifted one of the bottles with the white label. “And recently they’ve won an award for this Chardonnay.”
“So four standards?” The bell over the front door announced a visitor. “You expecting anyone?”
At the same time Jamie shook his head, much to Abbie’s surprise, Mabel Berkner waltzed into the café. “Your aunt mentioned at church this morning that you two would be working here this afternoon.”
“I was just showing Abbie the wines from Brady’s.” Jamie set the bottle down and waved Mabel inside. “Take a seat.”
“Thank you.” Mable made herself comfortable on the stool in front of Jamie. “You’ll do well with Brady’s. They use French oak for their Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.”
One eyebrow cocked high with surprise, Jamie shot a sideways glance at Abbie. She hadn’t expected the woman to know anything about wines either.
“Less vanillin from the wood,” Mabel continued. “Makes a huge difference in the flavor over time.”
“Would you like a glass?” Jamie offered.
“No thanks, I have errands to run. Have a bunch of mason jars I want to give to Eileen. Canning is not for me.”
“I’d be happy to take them home tonight if you want to leave them here,” Jamie offered.
“Thanks, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s a lovely day for a ride out to the ranch. The reason I’m here is your aunt came to talk to me the other day. She and Sally. They made some good points. I’m getting on in years.”
“Like a good wine,” Jamie smiled.
Mabel laughed. “At least you didn’t compare me to cheese.”
The Farraday smile was in full force and judging by the way Mabel blushed, it still had an impact even among the senior citizens.
“As I was saying, I’ve put up a good long fight to keep this county dry but it’s time for you younger folks to decide what you want for this town. This county.”
“All we want,” Jamie said, “is what’s best for everybody.”
“And that brings me to the next point. Your aunt is right. The Farraday’s and the Berkner’s have cared about this town for long before any of us were born.” She waved her arm at the bottles on the counter. “Serve Brady’s wine, bring in the new beer maker to town with his family, and I’m guessing you’ll be sourcing local foods and vegetables.”
Jamie nodded. “That’s the plan. We even have a few surprises when it comes to baked goods.”
“Is that why your aunt Eileen wants a new kitchen?”
“She wants a new kitchen?” he asked.
“Eileen may have said something about that.”
“If she does want the new kitchen, it’s not for baking. That will be Toni’s domain.”
Mabel’s expression lifted. “Oh, she does bake a good cake.”
“Yes, that too.”
“Well that makes me feel even better about my decision.” Mabel glanced from Jamie to Abbie and back. “You have my full support on getting the liquor license for the pub. I see no reason to bring an out-of-state company into town and have them shipping all their profits away from Tuckers Bluff.”
Anyone would think the pub was hers the way Abbie’s heart did an Irish jig at Mabel’s endorsement.
“That’s great news.” Jamie flew around the counter and practically lifted Mabel out of her seat into a huge hug.
Flustered, when he let go of her the woman brushed away non-existent wrinkles. “Yes. Well. It’s the neighborly thing to do.”
“Yes,” Abbie agreed. “Very neighborly.
The over-door bell sounded again.
“Apparently we do better business when we’re closed than when we’re open,” Jamie teased.
“Seems so.” Abbie kept her eyes on the door, surprised to see Ian coming through.
“What brings you by, little brother? Aunt Eileen know you’ve gone AWOL?”
Mabel’s eyes rounded and Abbie almost spit with laughter. After all, Ian was as big as Jamison. Two men cut from the same cloth. Either would have been very intimidating in a dark alley, together they could scare off an entire enemy battalion.
“Just came from there. On my way out to the old Peterson Trail.” Ian took a seat beside Mabel.” Spotted the lights on in here and since I have a few minutes to spare thought I’d stop in a second.”
Jamie frowned. “Something wrong?”
“Actually, quite the opposite.” Ian waved a finger at the wine and the beer. “Seems the new referendum is working in the county much the way the end of prohibition worked against the bootleggers a century ago. Word is the main moonshiner who’s been evading the law since forever is retiring.”
Smiling broadly, Jamie lifted a high five to Abbie, Mabel and then his brother, “This calls for a celebratory drink.”
“I’m on the clock.” Ian waved away the proffered beer bottle. “Before you throw a party, rumor also has it that there’s going to be one last major delivery of white lightning today. State police and the Sherriff’s department have brought in all available manpower to cover every back road and trail possible.”
“Why such a big push if they’re retiring?” Abbie asked.
“From West Texas, maybe, but there’s always a chance someone in the chain will just move on to be someone else’s headache.”
“Unless you stop them.” Abbie should have realized that.
“Then go get ‘em, bro.” Jamie went for another round of high fives, stopping short at Mabel’s dour expression.
Mabel moved to stand. “I’ve said my piece, I’d better be moving on.” She straightened her back and faced Jamie. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do besides talk the ears off the town council.”
“I will.” Jamie nodded. “And thank you.”
Mabel hurried out the door, rummaging through her purse, producing both her keys and phone by the time she’d reached the door.
“Did I hear correctly?” Ian eyed his brother. “Have you converted the enemy?”
“Looks that way.”
Abbie reached for a rag and wiped the counter. “What surprises me almost as much, is her making an effort at being friends with your aunt. That I know of, that woman has never been friends with anyone.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Jamie shrugged. “But I think she’ll be surprised to find the last thing Aunt Eileen’s going to want is more mason jars.”
“Mason jars?” Ian asked.
“Yeah, Mabel doesn’t want to do canning anymore so she’s donating her leftover mason jars to Aunt Eileen. A peace offering, I suspect.”
“Peace offering,” Ian muttered, getting up and moving to the window. His gaze on Mabel as she turned the engine and raced away from the diner. He pivoted around to face his brother. "Doesn't she have a nephew?"
"Yeah," Abbie nodded, "But he and his mom moved away from town a long time ago. Every once in a while he'll visit though."
"Wonder what he drives?" Ian seemed to be more thinking aloud than asking questions.
"Don't know but it roars like a hungry lion when he starts the engine," Abbie laughed.
Ian returned his gaze to the window and shook his head. “Sometimes this business makes us too cynical. For a second there I actually considered that nice old lady could be our bootlegger."
Jamie barked with laughter. “Okay, that's a stretch. I mean...”
“Yeah.” Ian smiled. “I’ve got to get a move on. If all goes well you’ll be reading about this in the papers.”
“Good luck,” Abbie called after him. For as long as she’d lived in Tuckers Bluff she’d known about the local moonshine operation, but somehow she thought it rather unfair that right whe
n the bootlegger decides to retire the law would make such a big push to stop them. “I know I shouldn’t, but I feel kind of sorry for them.”
“What do you mean?” Jamie sidled next to her.
“I don’t know. I guess a law breaker is a law breaker. But wouldn’t it be something if Ian’s instincts were right and teetotaling Mabel is our mastermind bootlegger?” Not till she’d spun around in place and bumped into Jamie’s chest did she realize just how close he’d been standing to her.
“Yes,” he agreed softly, his gaze latching onto hers, his hands falling gently to her sides.
Her breath trapped under her beating heart, Abbie managed to nod and mumble, “Uh huh” seconds before Jamie’s mouth descended on hers. Soft, sweet, and gentle, it was the most tender kiss she’d ever received. Before she could move her arms or inch closer, he pulled away.
Letting his forehead lean lightly against hers, his warm breath blew against her face. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Why not, she wanted to say. But nothing came out.
“What are the chances of me being run out of town on a rail if I were to,” he sucked in a deep breath but didn’t move, “do that again?”
Did he really just ask if he could kiss her again? Because if she’d had any say in the matter they wouldn’t have stopped the first time.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, retracting a step.
She realized she hadn’t voiced her thoughts, pushing him away with her silence.
“If I promise,” he continued, “never to drink another Pink Squirrel can you forgive me?”
Was that it? Was it the drink that had driven him kiss her? Ludicrous, a man his size could handle mixing drinks.
Jamie inched further away, his expression shifting from playfully apologetic to dripping with concern. Rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, he sucked in a long breath and leveled his gaze with here. “Please tell me I haven’t totally botched our friendship.”
Friendship? She’d been kissed many times by many people. On the cheek, on the forehead, even a peck here or there on the lips and none had ever felt anything like the too brief feel of his mouth on hers. If that kiss was in the name of friendship, her name was Scarlett O’Hara.
“Abbie,” he said softly.
She might be shooting herself in the proverbial foot. Or perhaps hammering the final nail in the coffin of friendship, but if it meant moving onto better things, that was a chance she was willing to take.
“Sometimes,” she moved into his personal space, “words are highly over-rated.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
If Jamie had died and gone to heaven, that was perfectly all right with him. Abbie molded against him and every fiber of his being went on high alert. Had anyone ever felt so perfectly right in his arms before?
A soft cough rumbled in the distance, followed by a second louder cough, sending Abbie springing backward.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Frank stood leaning heavily to one side, a large black orthopedic boot on his bad leg, the intensity of his gaze belying his statement. “I’ve been sprung.”
“Frank,” Abbie squealed hurrying to his side. “Sprung or flew the coup?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Yes,” she deadpanned, both hands fisted on her hips. “If you thought it was for my own good.”
The stern expression on Frank’s face gave way to a smothered chuckle. “Touché, but in this case I have been promoted to this boot.” Frank pointed down to the bulky boot on his bad leg.
“And a lovely boot it is,” Abbie smiled
“No one could complain about the Farraday hospitality, but I am ready to sleep in my own bed again.”
Brooks popped inside. “No matter what he says, the boot is not a ticket to spend all day standing in the kitchen.”
Jamie was pretty sure he heard Frank snarl.
“Short spurts only,” Brooks admonished.
Abbie swiveled around to face Brooks. “What do you mean by spurts?”
“Twenty minutes or so. Thirty tops. Then he needs to put it up for a bit.” Brooks stared pointedly at Frank giving Jamie the impression this was an old argument.
“I can help,” Frank insisted.
“Not in the kitchen,” Brooks countered. “Not yet.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Bossiness sure runs in the family.”
“Thank you.” Brooks tossed him a big grin and turned to Abbie. “I’m taking him home now. If he tries to come back as anything more than a customer for another week, you let me know.”
“You got it,” Abbie said.
“At least let me see what your kin has done to my kitchen.”
Brooks looked down at his watch. “Okay, but let’s make it quick. Toni and the baby are waiting for me in the car.”
“Why don’t you leave Frank here?” Jamie suggested. “I can give him a ride home later.”
Brooks studied his cousin then turned to Frank. The official café cook nodded and Brooks faced Jamie. “Guess he’s all yours. Good luck keeping him off his feet.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Abbie assured Brooks. “I may not be a Marine, but I’ve worked for one long enough to know how it’s done.”
Frank muffled a groan.
“We’ve got Irish Stew and corned beef and cabbage on the stove. Want me to warm up a taste before you make inspection?”
“Wouldn’t mind a taste. Or a look at this new menu.”
“It’s for the cook-off next week.” Jamie put a placemat in front of Frank.
“That’s what I heard.”
“Oh,” Abbie paused at the kitchen doors, “you should try the sauce for dipping French fries. Sounds disgusting when you hear it’s mayonnaise based, but it tastes really good.”
“Mayonnaise?” Frank’s lips curled downward.
“Like she said,” Jamie pointed over his shoulder at Abbie’s disappearing back, “tastes good.”
Frank nodded, watching the doors wobble closed. When they were firmly shut, he settled his gaze on Jamie. “How long has this been going on?”
“This?” Jamie hoped this was referring to something benign like the license competition.
“Don’t be obtuse. I don’t have long before she comes back. That was one hell of a liplock.”
Jamie couldn’t stop the corners of his lips from turning up at the memory. It really was. The kiss was also none of Frank’s business. “And your point?”
“That girl matters to me. A great deal.” Frank must have seen the questions in Jamie’s eyes because he quickly continued, “She may not be my daughter by bloodline, but she is in every other way that counts. We go back a long time. Been through more than most folks.”
“I know.”
His bushy brows shot up. “She told you?”
Jamie nodded.
“Everything?”
“About that lunatic and the knife? Yes.”
“I see.” Frank began twirling the spoon Jamie had set out for him.
Jamie resisted the urge to fidget, find something else to do. Frank was sizing him up and he knew it. For some inexplicable reason, Jamie really wanted to pass muster.
“You care for her.”
It wasn’t a question but Jamie nodded anyhow. “Yes, sir.”
“A lot.”
He didn’t have to think on that. He’d already figured that one out for himself. “Yes, sir.”
“Enough to risk your life for her?”
Without blinking, Jamie nodded. “I’d kill for her.”
“So would I.” Frank set the spoon down. “You’re in love with her?”
“Ye—” Jamie stopped mid-sentence. The words processing more clearly. Not the questions, but his reply. A knee jerk reaction to what had been all affirmative statements, he had to pause. Turning over the last few weeks in his mind, the way his heart rate changed when she was near, the way her smile made him want to smile, the way her laugh made him forget his troubles, the fierce urge to keep her safe that took
over at the slightest break in routine.
The doors swung open and Abbie carried in two dishes, barely breaking stride to pause and wink at him.
His stomach did a somersault and smiling wide enough to feel his face crack, he winked back at her, then caught a glimpse of the grumpy Marine nodding at him. Son of a…. How about that. He was most definitely head over boot heels in love with his temporary boss.
****
“Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out.” Frank climbed into the passenger seat of Jamie’s truck.
“Considering how fast this whole thing had to come together, I don’t think we’ve forgotten anything.” Since she would be the first to be dropped off tonight, Abbie opted for the back seat. Strapping herself in, she took in the way Frank and Jamie seemed to be sending coded messages with only a glance. At first she thought Frank was annoyed with Jamie. Despite the few good words, okay maybe not good, but if Frank didn’t criticize then that was the same as a compliment and he had not criticized a single thing Jamie had done in the kitchen. Yet, most of the time Frank seemed to be censuring Jamie. Maybe warning him off. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Only when she noticed Jamie occasionally dip his chin or suck in a deep breath did she realize the men were actually communicating. By the time she left the café she was waiting for one of them to pee along the walk and mark his territory.
“Mighty nice of Meg to step in and help, I mean seeing she has her own business to run,” Frank said.
“If Shannon, Donna and I can handle it on our own, then Meg can fill in somewhere else, but we all discussed it and felt that having four waitresses on board for the constant movement would be best.”
“You really think that many folks are going to be coming by?” Frank asked.
“Chase has had a notice up at the feed store and the other merchants have also. Lots of folks who only come into town once a month for shopping or services have promised to come by.”
“Lots is subjective.” Frank looked at Abbie over his shoulder. “I hadn’t expected you to be such a big part of this.”
“It’s been fun. More fun than I would have thought.”
“I see you’re not worried anymore?”
Farraday Country Page 40