The Comforts of Home (20 page)

She went to the side door so he’d know it wasn’t a professional cal .

Martha Q knew Tyler lived alone above the business.

Kate had told her that his apartment was probably over two thousand square feet and furnished beautiful y. Martha Q

found that hard to believe. What wife in her right mind would want to live above the business? But then, there had been three generations of Wright women who had, and if Tyler ever married, his wife might do the same.

“If Tyler ever married?” She laughed as she climbed out of her car. Men like him rarely did unless they were lucky and married young. He wasn’t that bad looking or that overweight, but he had the curse. Tyler Wright was too nice.

Every woman in town saw him as a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a man to depend on, but Martha Q would bet her pantyhose that not one of them saw him as a lover.

She pushed the bel at the side door. She’d have to ask him to come to Dreaming and Scheming, but she wouldn’t push.

To her surprise a young woman wearing sweatpant bottoms and half of a T-shirt answered the kitchen door.

For a moment al Martha Q could do was stare at the bare skin showing from just below her breasts to her bel y button.

“May I help you?” the woman said, making little effort to appear friendly. “If you need Mr. Wright, you need to go to the front door.”

Martha puffed up. “I’m not here on business, but on a social cal . Would you tel him Martha Q Patterson has come for a visit?”

“Sure,” the girl said, leaving Martha Q standing in the doorway.

Martha Q watched the young woman closely. She wasn’t special, but more medium in every aspect except her hair. The girl seemed blessed with a double dose of hair that wasn’t light enough to be blond. As she talked into a phone by the kitchen counter, Martha Q noticed wonderful smel s floating her way. The girl was baking, not one, but several things.

Tyler swung through the door that must lead to the business office beyond. He held a stack of papers in one hand and his glasses in the other. When he saw Martha Q, he smiled. “Come in, please. This is a nice surprise. Have you news from Kate?”

Martha put al the pieces together and figured out what he hadn’t said. First, he obviously hadn’t heard from Kate.

Second, he’d been working, and third, the girl worked for him or he would have introduced her at once. Martha Q

organized his problems. She couldn’t hit him with al the truth at once. A young girl around would never do. Tyler needed an old housekeeper with maybe two or three unmarried daughters. Somebody needed to tel the man that he should forget about Kate. If she’d wanted him she would have let him know a year ago. And, of course, at some point Martha Q had to bring up the subject about him being so nice.

She decided to start out in neutral. “I thought I’d come by to ask your advice about my club if you’re not too busy.”

“Of course not.” He glanced back toward his office. “I’m afraid my office is a mess. I’m working on taxes. If Autumn doesn’t mind, we might have coffee in the kitchen.” He pointed with his glasses. “Mrs. Patterson, I’d like you to meet my new housekeeper, Autumn Smith.”

The cook nodded, a bowl tucked into the crook of her arm as she stirred.

“Nice to meet you, Autumn. Please, cal me Martha Q.” Autumn nodded once and turned to face Tyler, her words hesitant. “I could get you two coffee from the break room as soon as I take out the next batch of cookies.”

“Don’t bother, I’l do it, and I bet I can talk Martha Q into trying a few of your warm cookies.” He smiled at the girl in his kind way, then turned back to Martha Q. “Autumn agreed to fil in for my housekeeper starting Friday and I think she’s been cooking ever since. Last night she put four dozen cookies out for the family visiting, and not one was left. Today she says she’s getting prepared for Monday, when we’l have two funerals, and last night she made the best stew I’ve ever tasted.”

When the girl looked up, Tyler added, “My staff thinks we may have found a treasure.”

Martha Q took a better look at the girl as Tyler went to fil the coffee cups. “So you’re a cook, are you, girl?”

“I guess so. I can read a recipe and the staff around here isn’t too picky. Mr. Wright says it’s not usual y this busy on the weekends.”

“You interested in getting married?”

Autumn final y stopped stirring and looked up at her.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Tyler came back in talking when he hit the door. “So what’s this visit al about, Martha Q?”

Autumn turned away without answering the question, and Martha Q decided right then and there that she didn’t like this young woman. Too much past piled into too few years of living.

Martha Q asked what he thought about a few things as the girl listened and cooked. Tyler seemed distracted and was of little help, although he did suggest she contact the churches that had singles classes.

After downing a half dozen cookies, Martha Q decided to postpone her talk with Tyler. She waddled out of the kitchen and headed home. If she’d known starting a club was going to be so much trouble, she would have taken up quilting instead.

NOAH SPENT MOST OF THE DAY SATURDAY

SLEEPING IN the quiet old house. He remembered meeting the nurse who talked about starting therapy on Monday and his wife, Cindy, who told him several times that he needed to eat. Reagan was around, but she didn’t say much. He couldn’t tel if she was glad to have him back or not.

That first night Noah had a dream that she crawled in bed with him, but he knew it had only been a wish.

Sunday he spent the day dozing and eating a little more.

Late in the afternoon he thought he heard someone knock, but he couldn’t tel if it came from the front of the house or the back. His room, the former dining room, was halfway between them and had no view of either.

A few minutes later he heard Rea whispering to someone in the hal way just beyond a door.

“Thanks for coming by to check on Uncle Jeremiah,” Rea said.

“I figured he’d be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” The voice was low and rough. Noah knew he’d heard it before, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I’m always worried about you, Rea. You’re doing too much trying to run this place, taking care of the old man and going to school ful time.”

“I’m fine, Brandon. I just need a little rest.”

“How about I take you to the show Wednesday night?

We could eat Mexican food first.” He laughed. “If anyone sees us together you can always claim you were kidnapped.”

She must have shaken her head because Noah thought he heard Brandon swear, then add, “By the way, where were you last week? I came by twice and both times Foster, the palace guard, told me you’d gone to the hospital to pick up something.”

“I had,” she said.

“Wel , how am I going to date you, Rea, if we never go out and I only see you five minutes every weekend?”

“I told you, we’re not dating, Bran. I don’t have time right now.”

“I know. I know. Jeremiah’s sick. You have to study. The orchard needs work. I’ve heard it al . Just promise me one thing. When your world does settle down, you’l go out with me on a real date. Assuming I’m not married with five children by then.”

Noah heard Rea laugh and say, “You got a deal.” Then he heard shuffling in the hal way and a door open and close. Then nothing.

Noah leaned back, staring at the ceiling. In the two years he’d been on the road chasing rodeos, he’d never thought that Rea might be dating. He had no claim on her.

In fact, he had more in common with Brandon. She didn’t want to date him either.

Only she hadn’t mentioned to Bran that she’d brought a broken-down cowboy home from the hospital. He knew she wouldn’t, but he wasn’t sure she would have lied if Bran had asked her directly.

He closed his eyes when Rea came into the room. He didn’t want her to know he’d overheard her conversation with Bran.

She moved around his bed, straightening his covers, picking up the tray from supper. When she turned down the light, he slowly opened his eyes. She was standing by the window staring out into the side yard, where she had hung a dozen wind chimes. Direct wind couldn’t reach the area, but the chimes stil tingled softly. They reminded him of her, never al owing life to touch her directly, always living in the shelter she’d found here on the Truman farm.

Noah remembered a poem once about a desert flower blooming so far away that no one would ever see its beauty or smel its perfume. Reagan was like that. He’d just never noticed until now.

Hel , he didn’t care if she was friends with Brandon Biggs. The big guy had always seen the worth of her. Bran was probably a better friend than Noah would ever be. Only problem Noah saw was that he didn’t want Brandon being more than just a friend.

Late in the night he woke as she climbed into bed beside him. He didn’t move until he thought she was asleep, and then he circled her with his arm and pul ed her close. Part of him wanted to protect her from Brandon—

obviously the big guy was attracted to her—but another part of Noah wanted to cal Bran and ask the man to protect her from him. Noah knew he wasn’t near ready to settle down, and staying in Harmony for more than a visit would be torture. He would break her heart if he let it go beyond friends because he knew she’d never leave this farm.

DENVER MADE SURE HE RAN INTO LIZ AND GABE

ON SATURDAY, and as always, they invited him to Sunday dinner at the Matheson ranch. He’d been there for dinner so many times he probably could have just gone. Except for Claire, the whole family made him feel like he was one of them. Aunt Pat even made him help with the salad and Saralynn always acted like he’d come to see her, but Denver ached just to see Claire. He needed her more than air.

As usual, al the Mathesons were there: Claire; her brother, Hank, and his wife, Alex; her sister, Liz, and Liz’s husband, Gabe; Claire’s mother; and the two great-aunts, of course. To round the number out to a dozen Saralynn had invited her friend from school, a cute, chubby eight-year-old named Violet, who constantly giggled. The girl’s mother came along. No one real y knew why. Violet and Saralynn were having a sleepover, so the mom could have simply dropped the girl off, but she’d settled in.

Before the dinner bel rang, Denver figured it out when Violet’s mother told Gabe that she wanted to be a writer.

Gabe flashed his best friend a look that said
Save me
, but Denver had no intention of giving up a chance to talk to Claire. He knew al he’d have to say to the writer-to-be was
What do you want to write?
and she’d be talking for at least an hour.

When they al went in to dinner, Violet’s mother took Denver’s usual chair next to Gabe. Denver hesitated, feeling like the last one standing in musical chairs. Then he spotted an opening. The chair next to Claire. As casual y as he could, he slipped into the seat.

She didn’t even look at him.

As the meal progressed, with two or three people always talking at once, Denver slid his hand along the side of Claire’s leg. She jerked a little and pul ed her leg away.

When he didn’t advance, she moved her knee against his, silently asking for more.

Denver grinned, thinking that maybe if he quit advancing, she’d come to him.

Above the table they nodded and laughed as everyone else talked. Most of the time they weren’t even looking in the direction of the other. But under the table he was memorizing the feel of her long, perfect leg.