Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  “Sit.” Dorothy pointed to the chair in front of her with an empty coffee mug on the table and filled it, then filled her own and took a seat beside Eileen.

  With three pairs of eyes on her, Eileen almost wished she’d just stayed in bed.

  After a few long moments of silence Sally Mae put her cup on the table. “What’ll it take for you to loosen your tongue and tell us what couldn’t wait till the card game later today?”

  “Where to start?” She wasn’t really asking anyone else.

  “Do you want us to start playing cards here or is this so bad we need to switch to the hard stuff?”

  “This has something to do with the man staying at Meg’s B&B, doesn’t it?” Ruth Ann asked.

  Eileen raised a brow. She shouldn’t be surprised. Half the town saw her drinking with Meg and a stranger. Even though he’d left shortly after they’d agreed to meet this morning for coffee at the cafe—another stupid decision so that the whole town could watch them—all her nephews and a handful of friends had taken notice, though no one had had the nerve to come out and ask her about him.

  Now that she was here at her dearest friend’s house surrounded by the best friends a woman could ask for, she had no idea why she was behaving like a melodramatic teenager. So what if Glenn was here for a visit. Wanted to talk. Perhaps be friends again. Or maybe be more? More. That was what had her tossing and turning chasing sleep like the princess atop a mattress and one ridiculous pea.

  “That does it.” Sally Mae stood up. “Where are the cards? I’ll deal.”

  Maybe the woman was right. Having something to do with her hands would make this easier. Put things into perspective.

  Five minutes later three of them sat around a table, playing cards in hand. Dorothy stood holding out a bottle of Baileys. “A little Irish in anyone’s coffee?”

  All three held up their cups.

  Dorothy smiled. “Thought so.”

  Seated and rearranging her cards, Dorothy was the first to speak. “I’m in. I’ll take two and who is he?”

  “I’ll take one.” Ruth Ann tossed in a chip. “A guest at Meg’s B&B.”

  Sally Mae dealt Dorothy’s and Ruth Ann’s cards. “He’s more than that. I saw the look in his eyes when the lights came on after the music was done, but Roy shuffled me out of there before I could find out.”

  “You saw him?” Ruth Ann asked. “How did I miss it?”

  Dorothy shuffled her cards around in her hand. “Because you and Ralph never got off the dance floor long enough to notice anything.”

  “How would you know?” Sally Mae narrowed her eyes at her longtime friend. “You weren’t even there.”

  “I know. I hated to miss it, but when the Bradys asked me to babysit so they could go, well, I figured it was more for the young. They may have mentioned all the canoodling.” Dorothy laid her cards face down on the table. “So, I repeat, who is he?”

  “Glenn Baker.” Staring at her hand, Eileen tossed a chip in the pot. “I’ll have three cards and there was no canoodling.”

  Nothing happened. No cards were dealt. No chips hit the pot. No sounds.

  Eileen looked up from her cards. All three women stared at her, mouths hanging open.

  Snapping her mouth shut, Dorothy poured more Baileys into her coffee. “I might need something stronger.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Sally Mae asked. “I mean now. After all these years.”

  “Yeah.” Ruth Ann put her cards down. “Why now?”

  All the same questions that had crossed her mind. “Sally, his wife, died.”

  “So he comes running to you?” Dorothy picked her cards back up then slammed them down again. “Talk about too little too late.”

  “The gall.” Ruth Ann fanned her cards again. “Who does he think you are?”

  Her mouth pursed like she’d sucked on a lemon, Sally Mae shook her head, dealt herself a card, and mumbled, “Should be run out of town on a rail.”

  “Works for me,” Dorothy agreed and tossed a chip into the pot. “I’m in for five.”

  Ruth Ann tossed a chip in the pot with a little more force than was needed, setting the makeshift pot to teetering. “I’m in and willing to donate feathers.”

  “Ladies,” Eileen tossed in a chip, “don’t you think you’re getting a little carried away? It’s not like he compromised my virtue at the turn of the last century or shot my lover in cold blood.”

  “Might as well have,” Ruth Ann muttered.

  “He should have understood you were needed here. Been willing to give you time. At least talked it out. Something.”

  “That’s right,” Dorothy added. “It’s not like just anyone could step into a household of seven children and a grieving father and make it all better in a few weeks.”

  “It was months,” Eileen said softly.

  “So?” Sally Mae said.

  “Maybe,” Eileen put her cards down, “if I’d let him come.” When Helen had gotten so sick from the infection Eileen hadn’t been worried. Doctors and medicine cured infections all the time. Eileen hadn’t realized how many women still died in childbirth, even in this day and age. The shock and pain had been nearly unbearable, and yet, when Glenn had said he’d catch the next flight. Come. Be with her. Help. She’d said no. She’d reminded him that the band was just getting a name for themselves. People were starting to recognize them—him. The upcoming gigs were important. He had to do them. Couldn’t step away.

  “We went over this twenty something years ago,” Dorothy said. “It wasn’t your fault. Even if he didn’t come, he didn’t have to marry the other singer.”

  “No.” She picked up her cards. “He wanted to bring Gloria up to sing for me. Did I mention that?”

  “Probably,” Ruth Ann said.

  Eileen nodded. “He did. I told him Sally had the stronger voice. She was the better replacement for me.”

  “On stage, honey.” Sally Mae slammed the cards again. “Not in life.”

  “He apologized.”

  All eyes shifted toward her. Sally Mae was the one to fold her cards and face Eileen down. “Saying you’re sorry you left the barn door open isn’t going to get the horses back.”

  “What do barns and horses have to do with his walking out on her?” Ruth Ann asked.

  Sally Mae rolled her eyes. “It’s a metaphor. The horses or the barn aren’t important. The point is the apology is too late.”

  “I don’t know.” Eileen laid her cards face up on the table. “Two pair.”

  “It’s my turn to go first.” Dorothy laid her cards down. “Three of a kind and what do you mean you don’t know?”

  What did she mean? The words, even all these years later, had been good to hear. Had made her feel…not vindicated…not exactly better, after all it had been over twenty-five years since they’d broken up, but somehow she felt…lighter.

  “I don’t like that look.” Sally Mae laid her cards down, face up. “Full house.”

  “It’s my turn,” Ruth Ann grumbled. “Not that it matters, your full house beats my two pair aces high.” Her hands stilled and she turned to face Eileen. “Wait. What look?”

  Dorothy sighed. “The one that says she’s forgiven him.”

  “She has?” Ruth Ann asked. “Why?”

  “Forgive, shmorgive.” Sally Mae gathered the cards on the table into a pile. “He could have apologized over the phone. Like twenty years ago.”

  “I’ll give him this much,” Dorothy helped collect the cards, “it says something for him that he came in person, but I don’t know that I like that look in your eyes either.”

  “I don’t have a look. And now that we’ve talked it out, I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal of having a cup of coffee with him.”

  “You’re having coffee?” Ruth Ann asked.

  Eileen nodded. “Today at ten at the cafe. He wants to talk to me about something.”

  “He’d better not think you’ve just been sitting around waiting for him to waltz bac
k into your life and sweep you off your feet.” Sally Mae passed the deck to Dorothy to shuffle. “Your life is here. With your friends and your family.”

  Her life. Once upon a time, her life had been on a stage with the talented man of her dreams. Once upon a time.

  ****

  “Testing. One, two, three. Oh say can you see…” Fancy’s soft voice came through the speakers loud and clear. This would be Tow the Line’s first gig in the new country music hall and she was more than a little nervous.

  “Sounds good.” Their soundman removed the headsets and set them down. “Fans are going to love this place.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t agree more. The last year had been a whirlwind of mind boggling success. Two years ago, if anyone had asked her where she saw herself in the future, lead female singer for a chart-topping country music band would not have been her answer.

  “You okay?” Garrett, an original member of Tow the Line, asked.

  “Me? Sure.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about tonight? They’re going to love the new songs.”

  “I know that. No one writes songs like Gil. The man is a musical genius.”

  “Agreed. They’ll love his songs and they’ll love you.”

  Would they? Sometimes she felt like such an imposter. “Maybe.”

  “Hey,” that low dreamy voice that had wooed fans for years spoke softly, soothing her uneasy nerves. She would never have made it this far without his friendship. “Have you changed your mind?”

  “How do you do that? Sometimes I feel like you’re inside my brain.” Shaking her head, she flashed him her best effort at a smile. “It’s just... We’re getting closer.”

  “We are. Have you told your sister you’re coming yet?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Garrett’s brows lifted, making his already big blue eyes seem enormous. “Exactly what have you told her?”

  “I sent a birthday card to Brittany and mentioned I’d hoped to see her soon.”

  Those two brows inched slightly higher. “So your sister has no idea you’re on your way or what you want?”

  She shook her head. Some habits die hard. Talking to her sister hadn’t come easily since she was twelve, before her mother died.

  “Fancy,” he shifted around to face her, “you have been sending postcards for months but haven’t spoken to Allison once. Don’t you think she deserves to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

  This time hers were the brows to shoot up high. “This is all so…hard…” Her voice trailed off and crossing her arms, she roughly brushed away a nonexistent chill. Would she ever get things right from the start? Outside of singing, she didn’t seem to be able to do anything right. Well, maybe one thing. Brittany Farraday.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Now remember,” Dorothy rested her hand on Eileen’s arm, “if you need anything, if you don’t like where the conversation is going, you tug on your ear and we’ll come running.”

  “That’s right,” Sally Mae agreed.

  The Tuckers Bluff Afternoon Ladies Social Club gathered at their usual table in the Silver Spurs Café. Leaving Eileen out of this hand, the women played poker the same way they had week in and week out since before Eileen had come to live in Tuckers Bluff. Except now each of them kept one eye on the door and the other on the clock, waiting for Eileen’s ten o’clock coffee date to appear.

  Every time the old-fashioned over-the-door bell rang, the players would nonchalantly glance up. So far Ned the mechanic—who was older than dirt—had sauntered in and taken up his usual spot at the counter for his mid-morning libation. Polly from the Cut N Curl had run in as though her tail were on fire and picked up four cups of coffee to go. “You’re a life saver. I suppose every coffee pot has a life span but I wish ours hadn’t picked the busiest morning of the week to sputter and die.”

  “Next time just call and I can get someone to run it over,” Abbie called to the woman’s back as she practically sprinted out the door. But still no sign of Glenn.

  Eileen glanced at the clock. Still five minutes to go. Maybe she should have played this round. Give her something to do besides kibitz and wait.

  The bell sounded again and not until Dorothy muttered, “Oh my,” did Eileen turn around. “If you don’t want him, let me know. I’ll take him.”

  “Dorothy!” Ruth Ann spat out.

  “Hey, don’t Dorothy me. You and Sally Mae have someone to keep you warm at night.”

  “Really,” Sally Mae mumbled, shaking her head.

  Eileen didn’t say a word. She stood and sucking in a deep breath, propelled herself forward. She wasn’t walking the plank. This was a simple catch up conversation with an old friend. Nothing more.

  At first Glenn looked around, his stance stiff, his gaze searching. As soon as he spotted Eileen walking toward him, his shoulders eased and a lazy smile she still remembered spread from cheek to cheek.

  Abbie came rushing over to the new customer, a menu in hand, and nearly tipped forward screeching to a halt when Eileen stepped up beside him.

  “Morning,” Eileen said softly.

  “Morning, Leeni.” Glenn met Abbie’s confused gaze. “Table for two, please.”

  “Someplace quiet. Maybe a booth,” Eileen added.

  Abbie’s gaze bounced from Glenn to Eileen to the row of empty booths and seemed to work extra hard to make her mouth move. “Follow me.”

  Eileen did her best to pretend every eye in the place wasn’t watching her.

  “Frank’s lunch special is ready early today. Chicken Cacciatore and the pie is Boston Cream.” Her gaze darting over to Eileen and back, Abbie handed a menu to Glenn. She took his drink order and snuck a sideways glance at Eileen. Pulling a couple of napkins from her apron, setting them on the table and casting one more inquisitive look in Eileen’s direction, she announced, “I’ll be back in a jiff with your drinks and to take your orders.”

  “Thank you, Abbie.” Eileen did her best to offer Jamison’s—as of last night—fiancée a casual, all-is-well-with-the-world smile and prayed it didn’t look like she was about to heave her breakfast.

  “Meg’s been telling me all about the Farradays,” Glenn started.

  “She has?”

  “I’ve been in town for a couple of days.” A hint of pink tinged his cheeks. “I was working up my nerve. Anyhow, at breakfast at least one of your nephews, or their wives, came up in conversation. By last night I pretty much realized what all the boys and Grace have grown up to be and I discovered there are three more cousins.”

  “Actually there are another six, but we don’t get to see them very often. Hannah, Ian and Jamison are Sean’s cousin Brian’s brood. They were raised here in Texas. Not far from Austin. Brian’s brother Patrick did a bit of wandering before he finally settled down in Wyoming.”

  “And you’re Aunt Eileen to all of them?”

  She nodded. Even though Brian and Patrick’s clans had no true relation to Eileen, she’d been their aunt as much as she’d been one to her sister’s children.

  “Hey.” Jamison, Brian’s eldest son, strolled up to the table and leaned over to give his aunt a kiss on the cheek. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine.” Eileen smiled, she knew what her nephew was up to. No doubt Abbie had texted him about Eileen’s coffee companion the second Abbie had crossed through the kitchen double doors. “What brings you about at this hour?”

  “Oh.” Jamie’s gaze lifted to the view of his cousin’s clinic across the street, clearly surprised at his aunt’s intentional failure to introduce him. “Heard Boston Cream was on the menu today. Thought I’d come get me a mid-morning pick me up.”

  “Uh, huh.” Eileen nodded.

  “Anyway,” Jamie’s gaze danced from his aunt to her companion and back, “I’d better get going before the pie’s all gone.”

  “You do that.” Eileen smiled, watching her nephew walk backwards a few steps before turning around and greeting his fiancée at the
counter with a big fat kiss. Not a surprise considering young love and all.

  “He was working the bar last night, right?”

  “Yes, O’Fearadaigh’s was Jamie’s brain child.” Shaking off her thoughts of Jamie and Abbie, and his sudden appearance this morning, Eileen smiled at Glenn. “Tell me about your girls. Two, you said?”

  “That’s right. They’re the reason I began looking up old friends. They insisted—”

  “Hello.” Declan came to a halt in full uniform at his aunt’s side. “Thought you’d be playing cards this morning.”

  Eileen glanced around her police chief nephew to look for a guilty expression on Abbie’s face. Was the woman planning on alerting every one of the nephews about her companion this morning? “I was taking a coffee break.”

  “I see.” DJ turned to face the man sitting across from her.

  “I’m Glenn Baker.” His hand shot out. “Nice to meet you.”

  DJ nodded. “Chief Farraday.”

  Oh, the communications this morning from Abbie must have been a doozie for DJ to introduce himself with his official moniker. What did he think, that Glenn was here to shanghai her into a sex slave ring?

  “I hear the Boston Cream is pretty good. Why don’t you get a slice to take back to Esther? That woman works too hard.” The suggestion was about as subtle as Eileen could manage at this point.

  DJ’s one brow lifted higher than the other.

  “As a matter of fact,” Eileen waved a finger in Abbie’s direction, “you should take a piece to Reed at the station. Isn’t he on duty this morning?” Of course Eileen already knew that because not an hour ago the other officer had come in for a cup of coffee before heading out to patrol the outskirts of the town. Since her nephew didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move, she smiled up at him. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Yes. Guess I’ll get some of that pie you suggested.”

  Waiting a few beats, she kept an eye on DJ until he was at least out of earshot. If the man moved any slower he wouldn’t make it back to the police station before next spring. Facing Glenn again, she blew out a breath. “You were saying?”