Baby Kisses (5 page)

Tooty smiled at him and, as if explaining to a child who couldn't quite understand, said, "I'll make it work. This is an answer to prayer. You just don't know how long I've been praying for my own place. It will work," she said with finality. With stars in her eyes, she checked out every room a second time.

On the drive home, she talked so fast Miles couldn't get a word in. Finally, he interrupted, "Tooty, listen to me a minute. I have a proposal."

She stopped midsentence in her description of all the flowers she was going to plant and looked questioningly at him.

He cleared his throat. "Jacob and Julie will be returning in a month or so and I'll have to leave their cottage. I still have a tremendous amount of writing to accomplish and I don't want to do it in New York. I'd like to stay in this area. My proposal is that you let me rent a room from you. However, instead of paying rent, I'll put money into making the house livable. How's that sound?"

She didn't say anything and he chanced a glance at her. She'd wrinkled her brow.

"What don't you like about the idea?"

"I think the money you would pay to fix the place up would be way more than what rent would cost. That's not fair to you."

Miles breathed a sigh of relief. If that was her only objection, and not that a man would be living in the house with her, he could handle that.

"That's probably true. But, I was thinking that you could quit your job at Boot Bustin' Barn and work for me full time. Instead of me paying you full salary, we could apply some of that money toward fixing the house up, too." He finished with, "I really need someone to proof read and give me input. Like you did with the scene I just rewrote."

"Really?
You want me to read what you've written?"

"I do." So he could seal the deal, he said quickly, "Let's plan on moving to the new place within a month. I'll get repairmen and carpenters lined up tomorrow."

"You'd do that for me! Somebody pinch me because I must be dreaming."

Tooty couldn't remember ever being so happy, excluding the birth of Harris, of course. Three or four times a week, Miles drove her to her inherited home. While she cleaned, he discussed repairs with the contractors, and even did minor repairs from his wheelchair. Seeing him weld a hammer in an old T-shirt that clearly defined how fit he kept himself, made Tooty's heart pound. He was gorgeous and she warned herself not to develop a crush on him.

Just as he'd promised, they moved into the house within a month of first seeing it. Of course, her parents raised hell about her being single and allowing a man to live in the same house, but she just watched their mouths move and didn't absorb their concerns. Nothing could distract her happiness.

Miles had the bedroom in the hallway with the bathroom and Tooty and Harris each had their own rooms in the opposite hallway. He had made the home wheelchair friendly and she knew he'd spent a lot of money. Whenever she attempted to broach the subject of paying him back, he'd brush her concerns away and say it was a non-issue because the improvements were for his convenience.

As for Harris, he was over the moon about his new racing car bed and bedspread with matching wallpaper that she'd bought with bonus money from Miles. He'd insisted it was deserved for inspiring him to rewrite the escape scene.

The first night in their new home, Tooty grabbed Harris' favorite storybook and lay beside him. Long into the night she stayed in his room. After years of not crying, she swiped away tears of joy. Her baby had a home. She had a home.

Finally, she returned to her own room and opened her nightstand drawer to remove the envelope the attorney had given her the day of their appointment. For at least the hundredth time she reread the letter from Beatrice Shipley.

My dear Tooty,

If you are reading this letter, then I have gone on to my maker. I believe you will love your new home as much as I have for over fifty years. The home also came to me by way of an inheritance. It's not much in the way of outward beauty, but it is a beautiful home. I know you will understand after a time of living there. My most precious gift to you, however, is not the home. There is a treasure within that I discovered, but too late to make reconciliation with the love of my life. Sadly, he died before I could make things right. If only I had found this treasure even two years sooner, it would have made a difference in my decisions. But it is what it is.

I will give you a clue as to its whereabouts because to tell you outright would not befit the treasure. I know you will find it. You're a special woman with depth of character that will keep you from making the same mistakes I have. Here is the clue: The circle surrounds Annabelle's
timeless
treasure.

—Beatrice Shipley

Tooty folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. Over and over she repeated the clue, like counting sheep, until she fell asleep.

* * *

Miles woke feeling like crap. He'd spent the past month working on Tooty's house when he should have been writing the final chapters of his novel. He had a headache, and Harris, running through the house yelling, didn't help matters. He covered his head with his pillow.
I must have been out of my mind. What the hell was I thinking to sink time and money into Tooty's house? Now I'm living with a four year old. I'll never get any work done.
Even as the thought passed through his mind, he knew he was being an asshole.

"Mister Brightperson, are you awake?"

There was a loud knocking on his door and then Harris repeated his question louder. "Mister Brightperson, are you awake!?" Miles pulled another pillow over his head. He heard Tooty's muffled voice. "Harris, stop that! Let Mr. Brightman sleep." Blessedly, the pounding on the door stopped. The pounding in his head did not.

Rolling over and pushing himself up against the headboard of his new bed, he reached into his nightstand for a pain pill and then tossed it back with a gulp of water. He rubbed his temples waiting for the pain to ebb and fought threatening depression. Glancing around the small room he'd made as workable as possible, he suddenly hated his life. He hated being in a wheelchair. He hated not being able to run, jog, walk, crawl; anything other than being stuck in that chair. Squeezing his eyes shut, he allowed himself to have his yearly pity party. Try as he might, he could not keep a couple of tears from escaping.

After his headache lightened, he dressed and hauled himself into his wheelchair. Later, he rolled to the living room window and watched Tooty playing with Harris. She was holding his hands and swinging him round and round. Her wavy, shoulder length hair wasn't in its usual ponytail and it danced freely about her face and shoulders. She was wearing shorts that revealed shapely legs and her blouse had fallen off one shoulder in an innocent seductiveness that she was unaware of. She looked radiant and alluring.

Miles cursed and rolled away from the window and back to his room. Pulling to his desk, he opened his laptop and tried to concentrate on writing, without success. Tooty's sensual innocence plagued him. He wanted to…no, he wouldn't allow his thoughts to travel there. She was barely out of her teens and he was thirty-eight, for God's sake.

Shortly before noon, he heard a light rap on his door and Tooty's voice. "Miles, are you okay? I haven't seen you all morning. Are you hungry?"

He groaned and rolled to open the door. "I'm fine; been getting some writing done. I need to catch up on the past month."

"Can I bring you some lunch? I made bologna sandwiches."

He hated bologna. "Ah no, I'm not hungry. Do you have an apple or orange?"

"Oh, yeah. Let me grab some for you." She ran to the kitchen and returned in a flash, handing him a bowl of apples and oranges. "I got all the emails and correspondence caught up. Harris is taking a nap, so I'm going to proofread your latest chapter."

Miles noticed her blouse had slipped again. She had a lovely neck and shoulder. His body reacted and he quickly backed into the room, reaching to shut the door. "I've got a lot of work to catch up on. I'll talk to you later." He practically slammed the door in her face.

* * *

If it hadn't been for Miles being so cranky, Tooty would have been the happiest person on earth. She loved her home and her property, but most of all she loved the way Harris had taken to the change in their lives. She'd created a special play area for him where she could watch him from the front window. He had a little patch of grass and nearby dirt to make roads for all his toy cars and trucks. Together they'd created a town from cardboard boxes. Tooty smiled at the businesses they'd painted with watercolors: Hank's Feed and Seed, Shop til you Drop Truck Stop, Dixie's Cuppa Joe, Boot Bustin' Barn, Big Bertha's Steak House, Sizzling Sicily, Ace Hardware, Beautyluscious Beauty Shop, Cowgirl Creations, the post office, and various other local establishments. They were only limited by the number of boxes they could scrounge up.

While Harris napped, Tooty sat on the couch and started reading Miles' latest rough draft. With a red pencil, she made notations and grammar corrections. This was the part of her job she loved. There weren't many pages and it didn't take long to finish. Leaning back, she gazed lovingly around her new home. She adored the mismatched antique furniture creating such a homey atmosphere. Instead of stripping all the old wallpaper and painting the walls, she'd left just enough to maintain the character of the home.

Her eyes rested on the old clock hanging over a buffet in the dining room where wallpaper remained. The hands never moved past eleven thirty-five and she wondered what it would cost to have the lovely time piece repaired.

Suddenly, Beatrice's clue echoed in her mind.
The circle surrounds Annabelle's
timeless
treasure.
Two words in the clue stood out: circle and timeless. The clock face was a circle and the clock was broken or
timeless.
Is that why the word is underlined?

Tooty's heart raced and she jumped up and rushed to the claw foot buffet, pulling a dining chair next to it to stand on. She lifted the heavy ornate piece from the wall and set it on the dining table, running her fingers over the intricate carvings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when she prodded and poked. No hidden boxes jumped out.
Rats!
She turned it over and poked at the backing. It looked solid. She tapped a little harder and the wood shifted. Blood rushed to her head in a wave of excitement. Running to the kitchen, she came back with a steak knife and poked at a corner. After a few jiggles the backing fell off and a small book tumbled out.

Tooty gasped and held her heart. Was this the treasure? Gently, she lifted the book and read the neatly printed, but faded inked words on the cover,
Annabelle's Diary Beginning in The Year of Our Lord, 1865.

Her hands shook as she carried the diary to her room. Sitting on the side of her bed, she gently laid it in the center and then reached into her nightstand for Beatrice's letter. She reread it, especially the mysterious part about reconciliation.

There is a treasure within that I discovered, but too late to make reconciliation with the love of my life. Sadly, he died before I could make things right. If only I had found this treasure even two years sooner, it would have made a difference in my decisions. But it is what it is.

Gently lifting the book, she kicked back on her bed and opened it. Inside the cover was a folded paper. She slipped it out and read:

Tooty,

I hope it is you reading this note. If not, then so be it. To whomever is reading this, I caution you not to read the entire diary in one sitting. It is best savored over time so that the trueness of it can settle into the mind and heart of the reader to be pondered, savored, and enjoyed. May Annabelle's words fill your heart with both sadness and joy, emotions contrary to one another, but so necessary for the human heart to find fulfillment.