Christmas on My Mind (13 page)

Jess slipped off the black dress and hung it in the closet. Life was full of cruel surprises and disappointments, she reminded herself. Given her usual luck, the magic might not last long. But while it did, she meant to savor every minute.

* * *

When Jess arrived at the jail, Francine was waiting on a bench opposite the check-in counter. Her black stretch pants and sequin-trimmed sweater looked out of place with her straight, mousy hair and makeup-free face. But Jess had honored her mother's request. Francine had an appointment to go straight from the jail to the beauty parlor.

“Hello, sweetie!” Francine stood, dropped her overstuffed purse on the bench, and held out her arms. “Come give your mama a hug!”

Jess obliged with the hug, though it felt a little strange. She had a lot to learn about this mother she barely knew.

“Ready to go?” Jess glanced around, hoping to see Ben.

“If you're looking for that handsome honey of a sheriff, he got an emergency call and went chargin' out of here. But he asked me to tell you hi for him.” Francine raised an eyebrow. “Is there somethin' goin' on here that I should know about?”

“It's too soon to tell,” Jess said, dismissing the question. “Let's go. Your appointment's waiting.”

“Thanks again. Can't wait to get out of this hole and have you see me lookin' decent.” She grabbed her purse and followed Jess through the exit door, wobbling a little in her four-inch black stilettos, which she must've been wearing when she was arrested. “Somethin' I need to clear up now,” she said. “I know I haven't earned the right to have you call me mother. It's fine if you just call me Francine.”

“Thanks . . . Francine.” That did ease things a little, Jess thought. “Now let's go get you prettied up.”

Roxanne's Beauty Salon was located in the basement of one of the small, neat homes Jess had driven past. Jess had made the appointment with the owner, who knew Francine well. “I know just what she'll want,” the woman had said. “You can plan on her being here about two hours. If you'll give me your number, I'll call you when she's ready to go.”

Jess had paid in advance with her credit card. The price had been double what she'd planned on, but it would be worth the extra expense to make Francine happy and celebrate her homecoming. Meanwhile, she could use the time to get more work done. After dropping her mother off, she headed home.

Jess started her work by painting the edges of the door, leaving it partway open to dry. The living room would be next—a major project, to be done before tearing up the carpet and finishing the hardwood. Hank had already suggested she start with a coat of primer on the walls to cover the graffiti.

She was counting on Francine to help her with the color choice and the painting. While she waited, she could at least start masking around the windows and doors. First, however, she wanted a better look at the furniture in the backyard garage. If it wasn't usable, she would need to start shopping for bargains right away.

After checking the paint on the door, she went around the house to the back. A chilly wind had sprung up, blowing in a bank of clouds from the west. Was the first winter storm arriving at last? If so, maybe she should get the furniture into the house now and plan to work around it.

Clutching her jacket around her, she opened the garage. The furniture inside had been hastily piled any way the pieces would fit. The overstuffed sofa and armchairs were worn and likely mouse-infested. But the large dining room table would be perfect for the bed-and-breakfast. Jess counted at least six matching chairs, some of them missing rungs and braces but nothing that couldn't be fixed. The bed frame she'd seen earlier looked usable too, although she'd want to buy a new mattress for it. All in all, she felt encouraged by what she found.

Stepping outside again, she closed the door and studied the sky. This late in the year, storms could move in fast. If she wanted to get the furniture in the house, and didn't want to drag it through the snow, she would have to make some quick arrangements. Ben had offered earlier to recommend some husky boys she could hire. The sooner she got them here the better.

She didn't want to phone Ben's office, not even to leave a message. It wouldn't go over well with his staff if she kept calling him. But she knew he usually checked on his mother. Maybe she could leave a message with Clara. Back in the house, she made the call.

“Hello?” Clara's voice sounded strained. Jess was instantly concerned.

“Are you all right, Clara? Should I come over, or maybe call a doctor?”

“No, I'm fine, dear. I just had some upsetting news, that's all.”

Jess's heart slammed. “Is Ethan all right? Is Ben—?” She couldn't finish the question.

“Oh, yes, they're fine. It wasn't that kind of call.” Clara sighed. “So you won't wonder, the call was from Ellie. She found out her husband's been having an affair. She's just devastated.”

“Oh no. I'm so sorry.” Jess's sympathy was real. She knew how it felt to be betrayed by a man you loved and trusted.

“When I first met her husband, Brent, they'd just become engaged. Ellie was head over heels in love. But I didn't have a good feeling about him, and I made the mistake of telling her so. Things have been strained between us ever since. At least she called me. I should be grateful for that. But after all this time, I was hoping I was wrong.”

“What's she going to do?” Jess asked.

“For now, she's decided to try to get through it. Brent insists the affair's over, and he's agreed to counseling. All I can do is hope for the best. I had a wonderful marriage for the years my husband was with us. It makes me sad that my children weren't as lucky. But that's enough about my troubles. What was it you were calling about, dear?”

Jess relayed her need for help moving the furniture. “Ben said he might know some boys I could hire.”

“I'm sure he will,” Clara said. “He works part-time most days when Ethan is here, so he should be home around lunchtime. I'll have him call you.” She paused, as if weighing her words. “Ben seemed preoccupied when he left for work this morning. Did something go wrong last night?”

“No.” Jess's heart dropped. Was Ben already having second thoughts? “We had a lovely evening. As far as I know, everything was fine.”

“Well, maybe it was nothing,” Clara said. “I'll mention to Ben that you need help.”

“Thank you, Clara. And I'm so sorry about Ellie. I hope things work out for her. If you need to talk—”

“I'll be fine. Come by anytime, dear. You're always welcome.”

“Thank you.” Jess ended the call, battling a vague sense of foreboding. Things had seemed so good with Ben last night. But she'd told him some ugly things about her past. Maybe she'd revealed too much.

If their relationship couldn't stand up to the truth, maybe that was just as well, she told herself. For now, she had work to do.

Grabbing a roll of masking tape and a chair, she began prepping the living room for its new coat of paint.

* * *

Domestic calls were Ben's least favorite thing to deal with. This one had been bad—a man who'd broken his wife's cheekbone because she burned his breakfast. Now the man was in jail, his wife was at the clinic, and their two young children, who'd witnessed it all, were with the woman's sister.

As he drove back to his office, the happy sound of Christmas music drifted from the SUV's radio. Ben switched it off. He wasn't in a Christmas mood today.

This morning he'd phoned Cheryl about his keeping Ethan for the school year. Reasoning with her had been like talking to a brick wall. A vacancy had come up at the prestigious boarding school Nigel had attended. Weighted by Nigel's influence, the last-minute application for Ethan had been accepted. He'd be starting school right after Christmas vacation.

“Think about the advantages he'll have,” Cheryl had argued. “Ethan is a bright boy. Graduating from a prestigious boarding school will open the door to any Ivy League college he wants to attend. What you're asking is to raise him in Podunk, Texas, where he'll grow up chewing tobacco and using bad grammar. That's just plain selfish, Ben!”

At least he wouldn't grow up to be a self-important prig like Nigel
. Ben had known better than to voice that thought.

“Don't do this to him, Cheryl,” he'd pleaded. “I want Ethan to grow up happy, with people who love him. When the time comes, he can go to college anywhere he wants. For Pete's sake, he's only eight years old!”

“Forget it, Ben, it's a done deal. He'll be starting school the first Monday in January.”

“Aren't you rushing things? You're not even married to the guy yet.”

“I will be . . . and very soon.” She'd let the implication hang till it sank in.

“Oh, hell,” Ben had groaned. “Don't tell me you're pregnant!”

The connection had gone dead. She hadn't even said good-bye.

Now, as Ben pulled into his parking space at the jail, his thoughts were far from his work. It was time he gave serious thought to finding a good lawyer. Fighting for his rights as a father wouldn't be cheap, but he'd go bankrupt before he'd let Cheryl take their son across the country and send him to boarding school.

The worst of it was, what was he supposed to tell Ethan? Could he wait till after Christmas to break the bad news, or would Cheryl do that for him?

He would do everything in his power to give Ethan a happy Christmas, Ben resolved. But meanwhile, he would explore every possible means of keeping the boy here in Branding Iron. The game of life was unfair at best, and this time Cheryl was holding the high cards. But his son's happiness was at stake. As long as there was a chance, he couldn't give up.

Chapter Thirteen

J
ess had just finished masking the door frame when the phone rang. The caller was Roxanne from the beauty shop. Francine was ready and waiting to be picked up.

Driving across town, Jess felt a vague unease. She'd dealt with her mother in a controlled situation, but from here on out, it would just be her and Francine. She'd been warned again and again that her mother could be hard to handle. But she'd made a commitment. It was too late to walk away.

Be prepared for anything
, Jess told herself as she pulled up to the curb and climbed out of the car.
Take this one step at a time.

It was good advice. But the thought fled her mind when she saw the woman who'd just stepped out of the beauty salon. Jess's eyes took in the fluffy platinum curls, ruby lips, creamy skin and long false eyelashes. It was as if the winner of a Dolly Parton look-alike contest were walking toward her.

“Well, honey, what do you think of your old lady now?” Francine strutted down the sidewalk in her black stilettos. The hand she held out for Jess's admiration sported inch-long fake nails, painted flame red and decorated with bits of sparkle.

Those nails were going to be a problem.

“You like?” She made a teetering pirouette in front of Jess.

“Wow! You could walk onstage at the Grand Ole Opry!” It was the most sincere compliment Jess could come up with. Francine was an attractive woman. In an overblown way, she looked spectacular. But for a daughter who needed help refurbishing a run-down house, her new look was disastrous.

“Where to now, sweetie?” Francine traipsed around to the passenger side of the car and climbed in.

Jess slipped back behind the steering wheel. “Are you hungry? I thought we could celebrate your release at Buckaroo's.”

“Well, it isn't Vegas, but at least it's food. I'm so hungry I could eat a whole barbecued steer!”

“After that we'll be dropping by the hardware to pick up some paint for the living room. I've got paint samples in my purse. You can help me choose the color while we're waiting for our meals.”

Did Francine's interest sharpen when Jess mentioned the hardware store? Jess couldn't be sure. But maybe it was, at least, a move in the right direction.

They pulled into the parking lot at Buckaroo's and went inside. The regulars, including Smitty behind the counter, greeted Francine with a round of grins and howdys. Evidently, the way she looked was old news to them.

They took a booth and studied the menu. Jess was about to ask her mother what she wanted when a voice startled her.

“How would you pretty ladies like some company?”

Ben stood outside the booth with Ethan at his side. Francine gave them a welcoming grin. “Sure thing. Good food always tastes better with a couple of handsome men to share it.”

“How about pepperoni pizza all around? And a big pitcher of root beer? My treat.” Without waiting for a reply, Ben gave the order to the waitress.

“Sounds good to me, sheriff.” Francine gave him a playful wink as they sat down—Ben next to Francine, Ethan next to Jess.

“Thank you, Ben, that's awfully nice of you,” Jess murmured. After Clara's mention that Ben was preoccupied, she'd worried that he'd gotten cold feet about their relationship. That could still be true. With Francine and Ethan here, there was no way to tell how he was really feeling toward her.

“What are you two gents up to?” Francine asked.

“We were going to a movie,” Ethan said. “But I've already seen the one that's playing, so we're just hanging out. Somebody needs to build a megaplex here. I bet a lot of people would go.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Ben said, then turned to Francine and drew a folded paper out of his jacket. “I didn't get a chance to give you this before you left. It's the schedule for your AA meetings. Post it somewhere to remind yourself. I'm sure Jess will help too. Maybe she'll even go with you.” He gave Jess a meaningful glance.

“Why don't you give me that?” Jess said. “I'll see that it gets put up in the right place.” She took the paper and slipped it into her purse. “Did your mother tell you I called?”

“She did,” Ben said. “I recruited a neighbor boy to come later today and move the furniture—I'll come with him to lend a hand. He says he can come back later, when you're ready, to drag the carpet out and haul it off.”

“Thanks for finding him,” Jess said. “But if there's only one boy, I can help him balance things. You've got better ways to spend your time than hauling my furniture.”

“Dad said I could help too.” Ethan piped up. “I can carry some of the chairs and easy stuff.”

The boy looked so eager that Jess was sorry she'd spoken so hastily. “That would be great, Ethan,” she said. “And you can catch any spiders we find.”

They finished their meal, spent a few minutes looking at paint chips, and set a time for Ben and the neighbor boy to help haul furniture before going their separate ways.

Back in the car, Francine couldn't stop talking about Ben. “I can tell he really likes you,” she gushed. “A man doesn't bring his kid around to see a woman unless he's got plans for her. You should latch onto him while you can, honey. That handsome sheriff is the best catch in town! If I was a few years younger, I'd go after him myself!”

Jess shook her head. “I don't think Ben plans to get caught anytime soon. He's got too much on his plate for that.”

“Maybe, but I know a lot about men, and that one's got a spark in his eye. Want to bet he'll propose by the end of the year? Come on—a trip to Vegas if I'm right.”

“And what if you're wrong?”

“Name it, girl. It's yours.”

Jess chuckled. “Sorry. I'm not a betting woman.”

“Suit yourself. But I know what I see.”

They pulled up to the hardware store and went inside. Hank was up front when they walked in. His face lit in a smile when he saw Francine.

“Hi, Hank.” Her greeting to him was subdued, almost ladylike.

“Hello, ladies,” he said. “How's the house coming along?”

“I haven't seen it yet,” Francine said. “But I'm excited about it. With my girl here to give me a new start, I just might make it this time—AA meetings and all.”

Jess listened in surprise. She was accustomed to having Francine make a joke of everything. To hear her express what sounded like hope and gratitude was oddly touching. Maybe coming to Branding Iron and buying the house would turn out to be worth it after all.

They'd agreed on a warm, creamy beige color for the living and dining areas. Jess picked out more supplies while Francine chatted with Hank. They left with three gallons of paint, a gallon of primer, fresh brushes, rollers and drop cloths, and more newspapers. Jess had resigned herself to painting the whole large room. With those long, expensive fake nails, there was no way Francine could do the job. She couldn't even wear gloves.

“I know I can't paint or scrub with these beauties,” Francine said when Jess broached the subject. “But I can still help. I can do laundry. And I'm a pretty good hand in the kitchen. I'll pull my weight. You'll see.”

“I hope so,” Jess said. “I'm going to need you. I can't do this job alone.”

“You won't have to, dear,” Francine said.

A few minutes later they arrived home. Grabbing what she could carry of the paint supplies, Jess ushered her mother inside. She'd left the basement door open so Sergeant Pepper could come upstairs. The scruffy ginger cat came running to meet Francine, purring and rubbing against her legs.

“Well, how about that!” Francine reached down and scratched his head with her long fingernails. “This place feels like home already. Where do I bunk?”

When Jess opened the door to her newly decorated bedroom, Francine gasped. “Oh! You did all this for me? I haven't had a room this nice since I was a girl! C'mere, honey, let me give you a hug!”

When her mother squeezed her tight, Jess felt the wetness of tears on one rouged cheek. There would no doubt be some bumps in the road ahead, but so far she had no regrets.

After seeing the rest of the house, Francine declared that she was tired and needed to lie down. She kicked off her stilettos and stretched out on her bed, with the Sergeant curled next to her. Jess closed the door so she wouldn't be disturbed, then changed back into her paint clothes, hauled the rest of the supplies out of her car and went to work.

It felt good to roll the primer over the ugly spray-painted graffiti on the walls. The room looked better already. She could hardly wait to see it all painted, with the filthy carpet gone, the hardwood floor polished, and the furniture in place. She would throw out the old overstuffed pieces in the garage and splurge on a new sofa and armchairs for guests. Some colorful curtains and framed prints for the walls would complete the homey look.

But it was already December and she was weeks away, if not longer, from having the house ready for paying guests. Time was running out, and so was her money. True, she'd likely get the line of credit from the bank. But using that fund would only put her in debt. Somehow she had to get this place to make a profit.

She'd finished with the primer and was about to start on the ceiling when the front door opened and Ben walked in, followed by Ethan and a teenage boy who looked like a natural for the local football team.

“Wow, it looks better already,” Ben said. “If you're ready for a break, we'll need you to come outside and show us what to haul in.”

Jess put a finger to her lips and pointed toward the closed bedroom door. “Francine's resting,” she said softly.

Ben didn't speak again, but the look on his face said enough. Clearly he thought she was letting Francine take advantage of her. Well, right now that couldn't be helped. Jess pulled on her old jacket and followed her helpers outside.

The dining room table came inside first. Jess was delighted to discover extra leaves to make it even larger. Ethan helped carry in the leaves and the chairs, which they piled in the middle of the living room. The chest of drawers, bed frame and spring went into Jess's room, the mattress being too far gone to use. There were boxes filled with mismatched dishes and cutlery. Jess had them carried into the kitchen for sorting—something Francine should be able to do. Aside from some boxed books and odds-and-ends of shelving, most of what remained was junk. She could have it hauled away later.

The job had taken about half an hour. She took the boy's phone number and gave him the $10 bill in her purse, which seemed to please him. She might have paid Ethan as well, but Ben caught her eye and gave a subtle shake of his head. “I want Ethan to experience the satisfaction of helping people,” he said quietly.

After the three had left, Jess checked on Francine and found her fast asleep. She couldn't have rested well on that jail bunk, she told herself. The poor woman was probably exhausted.

Closing the door again, Jess covered the piled furniture with the drop cloth, mounted the roller on the long pole she'd bought, covered her hair with a bandanna and began rolling paint on the ceiling. It was hard work, and messy, but she loved seeing how every stroke of fresh paint brightened the dingy surface.

She'd been painting for an hour and was about half done with the ceiling when Ben and Ethan walked in again, wearing grubby old clothes. Ethan was grinning. Ben was carrying a pan of something that smelled like fresh cinnamon rolls, covered with a towel.

“We thought you could use some help,” Ben said. “And my mother sent these. Nice color on you, by the way, especially on your nose.”

Jess's knees went wobbly with gratitude. “You can put those yummy rolls in the kitchen,” she said. “And thank you. I would have been painting all night.”

Ben took charge at once. “I'll take over the ceiling for now,” he said. “Jess, the walls might be easier for you. Ethan, you can take a brush and go around the bottom. Paint those baseboards and a few inches above them. If you get paint on the carpet, that's fine. Okay?”

“Okay!” Ethan took the brush and the partly filled paint can and went to work. Ben took the long-poled roller Jess had been using and began painting the ceiling in long strokes. His added height and strength made the work go twice as fast as it had for her.

Jess dipped a fresh roller in the spare pan and started covering up the primed walls, which by now had dried. Until she'd bought the house, she'd never painted anything. She hadn't expected to enjoy it so much. It was like having a magic wand that made everything look bright and new. But it was hard work. After an hour, with two walls left to do, she was starting to flag.

That was when Francine woke up and came tottering out of her room. When she saw the paint crew, her face broke into a grin. “Hey!” she exclaimed. “Why didn't somebody tell me there was a party goin' on? We need music!”

She hurried back into her room. A moment later the country version of “Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree” blasted through the house, loud but energizing.

“Now, that's more like it!” Francine disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later she came out with the pan of cinnamon rolls, a stack of paper cups and a carton of milk. “Break time!” she called. “C'mon, all you painters!”

They sat on the rolled-up rug from the bedroom and feasted on warm, sweet rolls, washed down with ice-cold milk. Sergeant Pepper showed up to meow for attention and leave painted paw prints across the carpet, which made Ethan giggle.

The break was a short one, but it recharged them all. While Francine cleaned up the food, Jess, Ben and Ethan, moving to the music, finished painting the room. By the time they'd bagged the newspapers and set the brushes and rollers to soak, it was well after dark.