Christmas on My Mind (6 page)

Jess changed out of her track suit, into jeans and a turtleneck, then warmed some leftover lasagna and washed it down with a can of Diet Coke. Hunger satisfied, she settled herself next to the phone on Clara's small desk, braced herself for an onerous task and began calling the people on the list.

Everyone who answered was nice. But after the first few calls, Jess came to anticipate the moment when, after hearing her name, they'd ask who she was. “I'm new in town and right now I'm staying with Clara,” became her stock answer. Explaining that she was Francine's daughter would only complicate things. Word would get around soon enough. More than likely, it already had.

She was a third of the way down the list and taking a break to stand up and stretch when the phone rang. It was Silas, letting her know her car was ready. He'd be by to pick her up and take her back to the garage, where he could print out the paperwork and run her credit card.

True to his word, he showed up a few minutes later, a lanky, plain-spoken man dressed in grease-stained coveralls. “I met your wife and daughter yesterday,” Jess told him as they drove away. “I liked them both.”

“Yeah, they're a good pair.” He spoke with a slow drawl. “I guess you noticed how Katy is. We prayed for a baby for years. When God finally answered, he sent us Katy. We figured we must've deserved something special to get one of his sweetest angels.”

“That's what she is, all right.” Jess swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. “She's lucky to have such loving parents. Thanks for getting my car done so fast, by the way, and for picking me up.”

“No trouble at all,” he said. “Connie tells me you're Francine's daughter.”

He would know, of course. “That's right,” Jess said. “Since she's all the family I have, I plan to stay around and try to help her.”

“Well, good luck with that. Francine's got a kind heart. But she can be a handful when she's liquored up.”

“So I'm told. I'm hoping to change that.”

“Well, if you can, it'll be more than a passel of preachers and social worker types have been able to do.”

“I know it won't be easy,” Jess said. “But she's my mother. All I can do is try.”

“Here we are.” Silas pulled up in front of the garage. Jess followed him inside and paid for the repairs and the tow, which totaled out to the exact, reasonable amount of his estimate. Opening the trunk, she found the quilted coat she'd left there and slipped into its warmth.

The Pontiac started up fine. Jess pulled away from the garage and headed for the jail to see Francine. With luck, Ben would be there too. Maybe he'd have time later to look at the house with her. She could certainly use a second pair of eyes and a cooler head than her own.

But what was she thinking? Ben was responsible for the safety of the whole county. Just because he'd come to her rescue and taken her under his roof didn't mean she could ask for his help whenever she needed it.

As she pulled into the parking lot on the jail side of the county building she noticed the sheriff's big, tan SUV parked in its reserved spot along the curb. Jess willed herself to ignore her quickening pulse. Of course Ben would be here. He worked here. And he'd probably be too busy to pay her much attention. Anyway, she hadn't come to see him. She'd come to see her mother.

Should she mention the house to Francine or wait till it was a sure decision? Preoccupied with the thought, she opened the outer door and pressed the buzzer to be admitted through the second door into the jail.

“Yes?” The intercom crackled. She recognized the no-nonsense voice of the female deputy she'd met the day before.

“Jessica Ramsey. I'm here to see Francine.”

“One moment please.”

Jess was preparing herself to be frisked again when the door opened and Ben stood there, as big as a barn door and as gorgeous as a Roman god. His dimple deepened as he gave her a smile. “Hey, I see your car's fixed,” he said.

“It is. And the fix was even affordable.”

“I told you Silas was a good guy. Come on in.” He held the door for her.

“Do I need to be patted down again?” Was she secretly wishing he'd do the job?

“You're fine,” he said, handing her purse to the woman at the counter. “Francine's the only one in lockup today, and nobody in their right mind would break her out of here before her time's up.”

“About that,” Jess said. “Can we talk for a minute before I see her again?”

“Sure.” He opened the door to his office, ushered her inside and offered her a chair across from his desk. “If you've had a change of heart, I wouldn't blame you. Yesterday had to be pretty rough.”

“Nothing's changed,” Jess said. “In fact, I've come up with a plan. I hadn't meant to talk to you about it, but as long as you're here, I could use some cool-headed advice.”

“I'm listening.”
Sarsaparilla—that was the name of the old-fashioned root beer that matched his eyes.

“Here's the thing,” she said. “I'll be needing a place to live and a way to make money. Once she's out of jail, so will Francine. And she'll have a better chance at recovery if she's got something to do.”

Ben frowned. “Sounds like a pretty tall order. What've you got in mind?”

“I've found an old house!” As she spoke, Jess could feel her enthusiasm mounting. “I've already talked with the owner. With the money my father left me, I can make the down payment and fix the place up into a bed-and-breakfast! Francine can help me!”

“Whoa there.” He was shaking his head, half laughing.

“What's the matter? Don't you think I can do it?”

“Judging by what I've seen of you so far, there's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it. But you could be getting in over your head.”

“Don't you think I know that?” Heaven help her, she was convincing herself. The more Ben cautioned her against the venture, the more determined she became to go ahead.

“Think about it,” he said. “It won't be a simple matter of buying the place and fixing it up. You'll need insurance, a business license, and deposits for the power and water. Once you're open, you'll need to advertise. Those things all cost money. As for the labor—you're such a little thing. How much can you do on your own? And who knows how much help Francine will be. Are you sure you want to jump into this?”

She met his gaze with determination. “I'm getting more sure by the minute.”

He exhaled, as if mentally counting to ten. “All right, where is this project of yours?”

She told him.

He muffled a curse. “I know that old place. I arrested a bunch of kids in there last summer. They'd made a real mess. I'd be surprised if it was ever cleaned up.”

“Cleaning up would take some work, all right. But I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty. And the location is perfect, right off Main Street. Once the driveway's cleared of weeds, there'll be room for off-street parking. I've got a key to the place. I can show it to you if you have time to look.”

He stood, with an air of impatience. “I've got time now if you want.”

“Don't you have to be here?” Jess asked.

“I'll have my phone. If anybody needs me, they can call. Give me a few minutes to square things away here and we can go.”

“Fine, and thanks.” She stood and moved to the door. “Is it all right if I go say hi to my mother?”

“Go ahead. She's in her cell, at the end of the hall. For now, she's the only one in here. Are you going to tell her about the house?”

“Not until it's certain.” Jess made the decision as she spoke. “And not until we've had more time to talk. Call me when you're ready to go. Oh—and we'll need a flashlight.”

“There's one in the vehicle. I won't be long.”

She left his office and walked down the hall where a half-dozen cells were lined up along one side. The walls between them were solid, but there were bars on the side facing the hall. The first cells Jess passed were empty, sad little spaces, not much bigger than walk-in closets. Everything was white inside, with a single bunk attached to the wall and an exposed toilet and basin in one corner. Jess couldn't imagine which would be worse—the boredom, the lack of privacy or the plain humiliation of having to be there.

Francine's cell was like the others, except that a plywood screen had been put up to give her some privacy on the toilet. Some tattered celebrity gossip magazines lay scattered on the rumpled blanket that covered her bunk. Francine looked up from the one she was reading.

“Why, hello, sweetie! Have you come to spring me out of here?”

“Not quite.” Jess smiled at what she hoped had been a joke. “But when you do get out, I've got plans for us.”

“Plans, you say? How's about a trip to Vegas? Now, that would be a treat, honey! We could get us some sexy new outfits and burn up the town! Ever play blackjack? I could teach you a thing or two.”

Once more, Jess felt the tug of doubt. What if Francine wasn't interested in the bed-and-breakfast? What if all she wanted was to get out and enjoy her idea of a good time—which could get her right back to where she was now?

“I'll tell you more later,” she said. “I'm afraid my plan doesn't include a trip, just a lot of hard work. But it's something that could change both our lives.”

Francine didn't look pleased. “Well, as long as it starts with a trip to the beauty parlor to pretty me up, I'll give it a listen. At least it'll be somethin' to look forward to.”

Jess suppressed a sigh. She'd hoped her mother would be eager to hear about the plan. But Ben had been spot-on about Francine. Changing her would be impossible if she didn't want to change herself.

“While you're here, is there anything you need?” she asked. “Anything I can get you that they'll let you have?”

“Some new magazines would be great. The one I just finished came out while Kim Kardashian was still married to that ball player.”

“If it's okay with the sheriff, I'll get you a whole stack of them.” Jess glanced back up the hallway to see Ben waiting for her. “I've got to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow.”

“I'll be right here, honey.” Francine picked up another magazine and started reading again.

Spirits sagging, Jess hurried after Ben, who'd retrieved her purse and was already headed for the front door. At least she knew what she was up against. But something told her the real challenge wasn't going to be fixing up the bed-and-breakfast. It was going to be motivating Francine.

Chapter Six

J
ess sat lost in thought as Ben drove down Main Street. Strings of Christmas lights twinkled from the lampposts. Tinsel garlands draped the shop windows. Ben had left the SUV's radio on. The local station was playing Elvis Presley's husky rendition of “Silent Night.”

It had been a long time since Jess had felt like celebrating Christmas. Maybe this year would be different.

Or maybe it wouldn't.

Ben turned the radio down before he spoke. “For a lady who was bubbling over twenty minutes ago, you're mighty quiet. How did the visit with your mother go? Did you tell her about the house?”

“I told her I had a plan. She asked me if it included a trip to Vegas.”

Ben made a sound like a strangled laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“It's like she thinks I'm Santa Claus and everything's going to be fun and games when she gets out. What if she doesn't care about the house? What if she doesn't want any part of the work involved? You told me this wouldn't be easy. I'm just beginning to understand how right you were.”

“Let me give you one piece of advice.” Ben rounded the corner, pulled up in front of the old house and turned in the seat to face her. “Ask yourself this question. What if you were on your own and Francine wasn't in the picture? Would you still take on this project, or any other? Would you do it for yourself?”

“I . . .” She hesitated. “I don't know. I hadn't thought about it that way.”

“If you really don't know, or if your answer is anything short of a
yes
, then you might want to step back and think it over. Francine's a good-hearted woman, but she's as flighty as a grasshopper. If you can involve her and help her, fine. But you can't count on her sticking it out, not even with you.”

“So I should just take her to Vegas, blow my inheritance and call it good?” There was an edge to her question.

“That's not what I meant.” Ben switched off the engine and reached for the big flashlight that was mounted on a bracket under the dash. “Come on, let's go have a look at the house.”

Jess found the key in her purse and led the way through the gate and onto the porch. It was late afternoon, still light enough to see, but the sun was low. The house would be even darker than when she'd been there this morning.

Ben switched on his flashlight as Jess opened the door. “Phew! That weed smell's almost as strong as when I was here last summer,” he said. “It doesn't look like anybody's touched the place since then. If you take this on, you'll need to give it a good airing out.” He shook his head. “Kids!”

“Getting rid of the carpet should help with the smell,” Jess said. “Help me pull up a corner. I want to see what's underneath.”

Ben found a loose corner and yanked it up. The carpet was so old, it came apart in his hands.

“Shine the light under there,” Jess said. “I'm hoping there'll be—yes! Hardwood! With luck it'll just need a good waxing.”

“And you'll kill your back doing it,” Ben muttered. “Shall we have a look at the kitchen?”

They made their way to the back of the house. “Hold the light.” He crouched next to the sink and opened the cabinet doors underneath. A mouse darted out of a hole in the back and scurried away.

“I'm thinking Sergeant Pepper will make short work of the rodent population,” Jess said.

“You're not afraid of those little pests?” He glanced up at her. “My ex was terrified of them.”

“I'm scared of criminals and terrorists and drunk drivers. Mice and spiders I can deal with—and have.”

“Good. If you take this place on, you'll do a lot of dealing. You may want to just call an exterminator. More expense. And you'd better hope the place doesn't have termites. Come in closer. Shine the light under here.” He peered into the dark space. His side pressed against hers, warm and man-solid. The contact triggered a tingle of awareness that flowed like warm honey through Jess's body.

Was Ben feeling it too? But that couldn't be allowed to matter, Jess told herself. She had a long, sad history of getting involved with the wrong men. She wasn't about to let it happen again—especially since
this
wrong man was the law in Branding Iron, Texas.

“The pipes look okay,” he said. “No rust or spots where they might've leaked. But you won't know for sure till the water's turned on. In case you wind up with a flood on your hands, you'll want somebody here who can turn off the main line and fix the problem—that is, if you're fool enough to buy this place.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Jess said.

Standing, he stepped back from the sink. “Where are the furnace and water heater?”

“I forgot to ask. But the woman did tell me they were replaced ten years ago.”

“Fine, if it's true. But let's have a look. I'm betting this place has a half-basement. Most of these old houses do.” He led the way through an open doorway at the rear of the kitchen, down a single step into a small area that could have served as a mudroom. Off to the left, the flashlight revealed a worn wooden stairway descending into murky darkness.

“You can stay up here if you want,” he said, starting down.

“No, I've got to see it sometime.” Jess followed him, keeping close behind his broad, protecting back. She was doing her best to appear brave, but the prospect of going down into that dark hole was downright spooky.

Spiderwebs festooned the doorway into the lower room. Ben used the flashlight to brush them away. Jess knew the spiders wouldn't likely harm her. Even so, despite her brave words to Ben, the thought made her skin crawl. She stuck to him like a cocklebur as he stepped into the lower room.

The flashlight's beam shone on cement walls and a ceiling of sturdy joists that supported the main floor, along with the pipes and wires that served the house. Fingers of dim light filtered through one tiny, dirt-encrusted window. An electrical breaker box was mounted on one wall. A single wire clothesline was strung overhead.

“No termites, as far as I can see. And everything else looks shipshape,” Ben said. “Of course there's no way to know for sure till the water, gas and electricity are turned on.”

Jess's gaze followed the clothesline to something in the shadows. “Over there!” she exclaimed, pointing. “Shine your light!”

In the far corner, the beam revealed a hooked-up twin washer and dryer. Their olive-green color suggested they'd been bought in the 1970s. “Dare I hope they're still working?” Jess mused, thinking aloud.

“I wouldn't be surprised. Those old machines were built like Sherman tanks. They were made to last.”

She glanced up to catch him studying her, his expression unreadable. “Goodness, sheriff, you surely aren't encouraging me, are you?” she teased.

“Don't bet on it. I still think you'd be crazy to buy this place.” His brown eyes warmed. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “All I say is, if you're going to take this on, along with Francine, you'd better be one tough little woman.”

Something in his voice quickened Jess's pulse. The forbidden tingle she'd felt earlier, when they'd knelt in the kitchen, awakened and stirred.

That was the moment when a gumdrop-sized brown spider dropped from the ceiling on a strand of silk to dangle eight inches in front of Jess's face.

With a startled yelp, she jumped backward. Ben caught her as she stumbled against him. She shuddered, cowering against his chest as his arms closed around her. He felt as solid as a fortress and powerful enough to fight off an army of giant horror-movie spiders. For a few breaths she closed her eyes and let him hold her, savoring the rare sense of being safe and protected.
I could stay like this for a very long time,
Jess thought. But she'd learned the hard way not to want things she couldn't have. And getting too close to Ben Marsden would be a sure recipe for heartbreak.

When she dared to glance up again, the spider had retreated into the shadows of the ceiling. Ben's arms tightened an instant before he let her go and stepped back. “I thought you weren't afraid of spiders,” he said.

“That wasn't a spider. That was a monster.”

He chuckled. “For what it's worth, I've seen that kind before, though not as big. They look scary enough, but they won't hurt you.”

“Not unless you count giving me a heart attack.”

“Hey, why not adopt him as a pet? You could even give him a name. That's a secret my dad taught me when I was little—when something scares you, give it a name. Most of the time it worked—especially with the evil monsters under the bed. Try it.”

Jess decided to play along. “Okay, how about Oscar? He can guard the basement, sort of like a watch-spider.” She paused. “You know, I think it's really working.”

Ben laughed, steering her toward the stairs with a hand at the small of her back. “That's the spirit. Let's leave Oscar to keep an eye on things and take a look at the top floor.”

As they climbed, shimmers radiated from the light pressure of his hand through her coat. The chemistry was there, all right. If she were to cast aside all common sense, it would be easy to fall for this man. But once he learned about her past—and as a lawman, he was bound to—she'd be just another lowlife, no better than the brawlers and con artists who passed through his jail every day. So much for making a clean break with her past.

“You say you haven't seen what's up there?” They were in the living room again, standing at the foot of the stairs.

“The woman who showed me the place said there were bedrooms and a second bath. That would be perfect for the bed-and-breakfast. But neither of us wanted to go up there in the dark.”

Ben stepped ahead of her. “Let me lead the way then, in case Oscar has some even bigger kinfolk living up there.”

Jess suppressed a shudder. “I'll be thinking of names.”

He directed the flashlight beam up the stairs and began to climb. Jess followed a few feet behind, one hand clinging to the bannister. The stairs were covered with worn, gritty carpet that would need to be torn out. It would be nice, she mused, if she were to discover more hardwood underneath. But she was getting ahead of herself. For now, that could wait.

Ben stopped on the landing and gave her a moment to catch up. The narrow hallway ran to the far side of the house, ending in a small window that had been boarded from the inside. On either side of the hallway there were two rooms—a tiny bathroom with antiquated plumbing, which looked like a converted storage closet, and three children's rooms with slanted ceilings, faded wallpaper and little dormer windows.

These rooms had a different feel to them than the larger, empty bedrooms downstairs, as if they'd been abandoned long ago. In one room, the wallpaper was covered with childish crayon drawings. In another, an old-fashioned crib had been left behind, its mattress gone. What had happened to the children who'd lived in these rooms? Had they grown up? Maybe even passed on by now?

Ben was quiet, as if he too felt the silent ghosts of the past. At last he spoke. “Seen enough?”

“I think so, thanks,” Jess said. “I won't keep you any longer. Let's go.”

Ben led the way downstairs with the flashlight. By the time they stepped out onto the porch, the sun was going down in a crimson blaze, painting the town and the bare fields beyond with amber gold. Jess was just locking the door when Ben's cell phone rang.

He turned partway to answer it. “Hey, Ethan. What's up?” He paused; then a grin lit his face. “You're kidding! That's great news.... You bet. I'll be there by tomorrow night. We'll have a great road trip back.... What's that? . . . Absolutely. Don't we always have it up when you come?” Another pause. “No snow yet, but pack warm. We'll cross our fingers for a white Christmas. See you.”

Pocketing the phone, he turned back to Jess. “Good news! I'm getting my son early. I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon to drive to Dallas and pick him up. We'll be back here the next day. But right now . . .” He grinned down at Jess, his eyes twinkling like a schoolboy's. “How would you like to help me put up a Christmas tree?”

The question caught Jess off guard. She stared up at him in surprise.

“We always have the tree up at my mother's house when Ethan gets here. He looks forward to it every year, so it's got to be done tonight, before I leave. Mom and I have always done it together, but she's not strong enough anymore, especially at the end of the day. The work will wear her out. So I'm recruiting you.” Ben paused. “If you don't say no right now, I'm going to assume it's a yes.”

Recovering, she laughed at his excitement. “Sure, I'll help. It just took a minute to sink in. Lead the way.”

Without the sun, the breeze was chilly. Ben helped Jess into the SUV, then called to let his deputies know his plans. “I'll be in for the first hour in the morning to take care of any last-minute business,” he said. “Then I'll be gone for the rest of the day, and the next day as well. Ruth, you're in charge till I get back.”

“So what's next?” Jess asked as he ended the call.

“Next we go home, change vehicles, get me out of uniform, and go tree shopping.”

Twenty minutes later they were driving back toward the main road in Ben's well-used pickup truck. Ben had switched his khaki uniform for blue jeans, cowboy boots and a warm woolen shirt with a fleece-lined denim jacket.

As they drove, he glanced her way and caught Jess looking him over. “What?” he asked. “Have I grown an extra pair of ears?”