by Diana Palmer
Ida drew in a breath. “Yes. I can’t prove it, but I know he was responsible. He even made threats. My poor horses. Poor Butler...” She hesitated. “Mrs. Barton, Jake says you like cats?” she added.
“Well, yes. I have several at home,” she said, puzzled by the question.
Ida grimaced. “Mr. McGuire wants us to get married...”
Maude actually smiled. “Hallelujah!” she said. “About time he stopped mooning around here miserable because Mina wouldn’t marry him.”
“It’s not going to be that sort of marriage,” Ida began. “We like each other, and we like the same things,” she added. “He said we had enough in common that we could make a good marriage without the drama.”
Maude chuckled. “The drama is what makes a marriage. My husband and I used to have little spats when we first got married. Oh, the making up! What fun!”
“I don’t really think Jake is going to want that.”
“Well, you never know, do you? Why do you want to know if I like cats?”
“Because if we live here, and I guess we will, Butler will come with me.”
“He won’t bother me,” Maude assured her. “I’ve had cats all my life. Three of them pile into the bed with my husband and me at night. They’ve all got Maine coon in their ancestry, so they’re huge. My male, Calipher, weighs almost twenty pounds, and he’s just a baby!”
“Maine coon?” Ida asked, curious.
“It’s an expensive breed of cat, if they’re purebred. They were named for Captain Coon, who sailed to New England in the early eighteen hundreds. Apparently, there were Persian cats on board his ship who got loose and, legend says, bred with lynxes in the wild.”
“What a fascinating story!”
“You might want to get one to keep your cat company,” Maude suggested. “If you ever do, I know a good breeder who lives right here in town.”
“Did you get yours from her?”
“Lord, no,” Maude laughed. “They’re horribly expensive. I got mine because one of Jessie’s tomcats got loose and had a bit of fun with a neighbor’s Persian female. Jessie sent me to the Persian cat lady.”
“She sounds very nice.”
“She is. Most of the people around Catelow are. You know that. You were born here, weren’t you?”
“Oh, yes. I was away for a long time. But it was nice to come home. Or it would have been, except for Bailey trying to force me to pay off his gambling debts.”
“You’ve had a hard time of it. But there are always rewards for living through hard times.”
Ida beamed. “I’ve noticed that.”
“You’ll be happy with Mr. McGuire,” Maude said. “He’s easygoing and he never fusses. Well, he can raise the roof when he loses his temper, and his language gets a bit rough around the men if they do things he doesn’t like. But he’s mostly pleasant.”
Ida, who’d never seen him in a temper, grew a little worried. Surely, he wouldn’t be like Bailey, who was dangerous when he blew up!
She had to stop worrying, she told herself. It wouldn’t change a thing. She could back out of the marriage, but she didn’t really want to. She was drawn to Jake, loved being with him. She didn’t have the strength to refuse. But she was wary of the future. If he’d never loved before Mina, then he might be a man who was only capable of loving once. The thought was so disheartening that she fought tears. She hid them in good humor and asked Maude about her cats. That was good for ten minutes.
* * *
JAKE CAME HOME SMILING. “All done,” he told her as she sat knitting in a chair in the living room. His eyebrows arched. “I didn’t know you could knit.”
She smiled. “It gives me something to do with my hands,” she said simply.
He sat down across from her, sailing his Stetson onto an end table with unnerving precision. “My mother used to make sweaters for my brother and me, when we were kids.” His face hardened, remembering his brother and how he’d died.
“You shouldn’t look back,” Ida said softly. “I know how you must feel. I don’t have any family left, either. But you have to go forward.”
He made a face at her. “Optimist.”
She laughed and bent her head back to her knitting.
“What are you making?”
“A baby blanket,” she said, and then flushed and met his arched eyebrows, and blushed even more. “For a woman who works at my doctor’s office, who’s having a baby,” she stammered.
Jake didn’t say anything. He just stared at her.
She jerked her eyes back down to her knitting. She was embarrassed, and she didn’t understand why. She thought about their upcoming marriage, one of friends, with no physical contact. Was he reminding her of that, with his shocked expression? Did he think she was making a statement about her needs by knitting something for a baby, when they’d almost certainly agreed that they would never have one?
Her mind went flying to the image of a baby in a crib, one with jet-black hair and silver eyes, and she cleared her throat and put aside her knitting.
“Did you put the announcement in the paper?” she asked a little too quickly.
“Yes. I talked to the minister. And the florist,” he added with a grin. “You’ll need a weed eater to get through the massive pots of flowers in the church,” he promised.
She laughed. “Okay. I won’t mind.”
“When do you want to fly up to Manhattan to get your wedding outfit?”
She flushed. “Well, can we go tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“All right, then.” She started making a mental list of things she’d need. In the middle of it, she remembered her cat. “I have to call the vet about Butler,” she burst out.
“That’s taken care of, too,” he said gently and smiled at her. “We’ll pick up Butler and Wolf this afternoon and bring them home so they can get acquainted.”
“I asked Maude if she’d mind Butler being here and she said not at all, she’s got some at home,” she said.
He chuckled. “She spoils her cats. She’ll spoil Butler, too.”
“He’ll need spoiling. Poor old cat,” she said sadly. “He’s never hurt anybody, but life has been hard to him.”
“It will get better very soon. What about your place? I know you don’t want to sell it. You grew up there. Suppose we put in a ranch manager, somebody married, with kids perhaps, and they can live in the house.”
She smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. It would be nice if we could find some people who really needed a job,” she added thoughtfully.
“We can, and I have. I’ll take you over and introduce you to them tomorrow.”
She relaxed. “Okay, then. If you like them, so will I.”
His eyebrows arched. She only laughed.
* * *
THEY WERE A youngish couple, Tanner and Grace Lowell, with three little kids, all under the age of ten.
“I just run all the time,” Grace laughed, running down her toddler whose diaper had come off. “We’ve had a hard time making ends meet since Tanner got thrown at the last rodeo.” She grimaced at her husband’s expression. “Well, it’s not like it’s a secret that you got hurt, honey,” she added softly.
He sighed. “No, I guess not.”
“You’ll be the foreman,” Jake pointed out with twinkling silver eyes. “That means you sit and give orders.”
“I won’t always have a bum leg,” Tanner promised. “I go to physical therapy three times a week.”
“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Ida asked gently. “I have a bad hip. They did a partial replacement and there’s a metal rod and screws where my femur was broken, so I still have trouble walking. But therapy is wonderful. I especially loved the heat lamp,” she added with a grin.
The Lowells, who’d heard bad things about Mrs. Merridan, were fascinated
at this look at the real woman. Gossip, apparently, was way off the mark here, as usual.
“That heat lamp’s not bad,” Tanner agreed and smiled at his wife.
“You can start Friday, if you like,” Jake told him. “House is rent free, utilities provided, and you get a salary. House comes with a kitchen garden that you can plant any way you like.”
“There’s a stable, too, for your horses,” Ida added. “Mine will come to Jake’s house with us when we’re married.” Her face tautened. “I’ve had two injured. They’re staying with Ren Colter for the time being.”
“Injured?” Tanner asked worriedly.
“My ex-husband wants money,” Ida said quietly. “He has ways of trying to extract it from me that will get him arrested if we can prove it. And don’t worry. I’ll make sure he knows that I’m not living at the ranch anymore. Your animals and your family will be safe. It’s only me that he’s after.”
The Lowells exchanged glances. They had a pretty good idea of how Ida’s hip had been injured, but they didn’t mention it.
“I’d love to start Friday,” Tanner said, “if you’ll bear with me while I get back on my feet.”
Jake grinned. “No problem there. You’ll want to take your furniture, so we’ll need to move Ida’s out.”
“We can put most of it in storage, but I want my piano,” she told Jake.
“You play?” Mrs. Lowell asked gently.
Ida smiled. “Oh, yes. My first husband had me taught. He played so beautifully. He was a kind man.” She glanced at Jake shyly. “He plays, too.”
His eyebrows arched. “And how do you know that?” he wanted to know.
“Maude.”
He made a face.
“Why don’t you have a piano?” she persisted.
“I did have one.” His face closed up, but he didn’t say another word, changing the subject to the issue of Tanner’s duties.
* * *
LATER, WHEN THEY were alone, she started to ask him about the piano.
“I was taking lessons, when I was fifteen,” he told her, his eyes glittery with memory. “My father said it was a sissy thing for a boy to do. I told him I was no sissy and that Mama said I could learn to play if I wanted to. So he went out to the barn, got his sledgehammer, came back inside and smashed the piano to bits. It had been my mother’s grandmother’s piano. She cried for days afterward, and I felt such guilt.”
“It was your father’s fault, not yours,” she said gently. “And I know your mother never blamed you.” She hesitated. “You don’t mind if I bring my piano with me?”
He was withdrawn for a few seconds. Then his face cleared. “Certainly not. You play beautifully. I’ll enjoy listening.”
She smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”
He sat down in the living room with her. “You do understand that I’m going to be on the road a lot?” he asked, because it needed to be made clear at the outset. “I do business all over the world, and I have holdings in Australia that I share with Rogan Michaels. I won’t expect you to travel with me.”
She would have volunteered to go, but something in his expression stopped the words in her mouth.
“I’ll have things to keep me busy here,” she replied and was rewarded by a quickly hidden relief in his hard features.
“Sculpting?” he asked after a minute and smiled.
She nodded. “Which reminds me, I have to have my clay and tools.” She sighed. “I have twenty-five-pound bags of special clay.” She put a hand on her hip. “And a ton of potted plants that have to come also, including a banana tree and a lemon tree and...”
“Well, well,” he drawled and chuckled. He got up. “Come here. I want to show you something.”
She followed him slowly down the long hall toward the back of the house. He opened the door, and there was a room, enclosed by glass, a huge room with lit trays that held scores of orchids of all different colors, along with dwarf fruit trees, flowering shrubs, hanging baskets of ferns and philodendrons, even a Norfolk Island pine and a huge bird-of-paradise plant.
“Oh, my goodness,” she stammered, lost for words.
“I like plants,” he said, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the enormous room.
She laughed. “So do I. Mine are mostly flowering plants, but I love orchids and bonsai trees...” She broke off as she spotted a table behind some ferns. Her breath caught. Pots and pots of bonsai trees of all sorts, from jade plants to cypress to miniature weeping willow trees.
“This must have taken you years!” she exclaimed.
“It did. Maude keeps it when I’m out of town. The orchids need a lot of care. They’re misted every day and watered every other day. They don’t like wet feet, so you have to be careful how much water you give them. And they need fertilizer periodically.”
“I’ve always loved orchids. I’ve never been able to grow one, not even a phalaenopsis, and they’re supposed to be foolproof.”
“They need sun-spectrum light,” he said easily. “Thus, the vertical trays with light fixtures.”
She noted the chairs placed around the room. “This would be a lovely place to just come and sit and admire the plants.”
“Which is what I do, when I’m restless or worried,” he replied.
She turned and looked up at him. “You don’t seem to ever get that way.”
He sighed and smiled. “You don’t know me,” he replied. “Not yet.”
She just nodded.
“But you will,” he teased. “How about some more coffee? Then we’d better decide on how to store your furniture and see about getting your piano and your other possessions over here.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS A rushed thing, getting all Ida’s things together and moved, and bringing a happy Wolf and Butler home to roam the house, before the Lowells moved into her ranch house. But she and Jake between them managed to do it.
Her furniture had been placed in storage, all except the piano and her bed, which had a special mattress that helped her sleep. Jake had moved the bed and furniture in the biggest of the guest bedrooms into storage with Ida’s things, to make room for her bed and its matching suite of furniture. She also had a huge alpaca rug that went beside her bed on the carpet.
Jake gave it a curious appraisal.
“It’s a comfort thing,” she murmured. “I like the way it feels under my bare feet when I get up in the morning.”
“You’re not allergic to fur?”
She shook her head and smiled. “My mother bought the rug at a mall when I was a little girl. It’s sort of an heirloom. It reminds me of her.”
He understood. “It’s beautiful.”
“I keep it clean,” she said.
He looked around at the white French Provençal furniture that she’d had since her first marriage. The bed had a white plush duvet, and there was a canopy, white and ruffled, along with a skirt around the queen-size mattress. The curtains, Priscillas, matched the frilly bedspread and canopy.
“Very feminine,” he mused.
She laughed. “I suppose it is. We were so poor that I spent my young life coveting a set just like that. My girlfriend, whose parents were well-to-do, had a canopied bed and white furniture. I swore that one day, if I ever had enough money, I’d buy myself a set.”
“It does suit you.” He frowned slightly. “Do you have French ancestry?”
“I don’t really know,” she replied. “Mama said we had a relative who died in France two hundred years ago, but not who or how.”
“You need to do one of those ancestry searches,” he suggested.
She pursed her lips. “What a neat idea! There’s something to look forward to!”
He cocked his head. “What?”
“Well, it’s something I learned just after I was injured,” she replied. “The doctor said we all need goals, e
specially when we’re hurt and upset and afraid. We need little things to look forward to. A new piece of jewelry, a holiday, even just a special meal in a restaurant. He said that goals made the time go easier. And he was right. I’ve done that ever since. Little goals. Baby steps.”
He smiled. “Not a bad idea.” His pale eyes were thoughtful on her face. She was excited, and it brought an even greater beauty to her elven face. He felt a sudden wave of feeling for her and fought it. Theirs was going to be a marriage of friends. There would be no place in it for anything physical. It was a bad time to remember how sweet it had been to kiss her. He ached to repeat it but smothered the urge.
“I’d like you to come with me tomorrow to talk to the minister about details.”
She turned and looked at him, lost in the past so that she hadn’t quite heard him. “What?” she asked softly. “I’m so sorry. I was remembering when I was a child.”
He moved a step closer and looked down at her. “You were poor,” he recalled.
She nodded. “And now I could fund the treasury of a small country. So could you,” she added.
He sighed. “Yes. Too much money, too much time, too many days and nights spent alone.”
She flushed and averted her eyes.
He reached down and took her hand in his big one. He felt a jolt of delight. It was mirrored on her surprised face. “Listen,” he said gently, “we’re going to be married, but it’s not going to be conventional.” He hesitated, because she wasn’t getting it. He let out a rough breath. “We won’t share a bed, is what I’m trying to get across.”
“Oh.” She looked up at him with so many emotions clouding her mind that she could barely get a coherent thought. She flushed again. “It’s going to be hard for you,” she stammered.
“Why?”
“Well, you’re...you’re used to women, aren’t you? I mean, intimately used to them.”
His thumb rubbed against her wrist as he tightened his hand on hers. “I was,” he confessed. “But since Mina, I haven’t wanted that. I haven’t wanted anything intimate, with anyone.” He was surprised to recall how long he’d gone without a woman.