Paradise County (21 page)

“Please call me Alex.” Alex held out her hand to Joe’s father. His hand was warm, with strong thin fingers.

“Well, Alex, I hear you all had some excitement up at Whistledown last night.” He looked at Alex with a twinkle in his eyes. She saw that they were blue, the same light, lady-killing shade as Joe’s and his sons’. Jenny’s eyes were different, a soft shade of brown that almost matched her hair.

“A little,” Alex answered.

“Yeah, it was great. We ended up staying up so late we didn’t have to go to church this morning,” Eli said, carrying the last of the glasses to the table.

“What’re you talking about? You love going to church and you know it.” Grinning, Joe gave his son a playful smack on the side of the head as Eli walked past him.

“About like I love going to the dentist,” Eli muttered, setting the glasses down.

“I bet Heather was upset that you weren’t there,” Jenny put in teasingly, separating cans of Coke from a plastic six-pack holder and setting them down beside the glasses.

“Who’s Heather?” Neely asked, oh-so-casually.

“Eli’s girlfriend. He’s in lo-o-ove,” Josh chimed in.

“Shut up, twerp.” Eli glowered at Josh.

Joe intervened. “Okay, gang, let’s eat. Alex, you can sit over there by your sister.”

There was general hubbub as everyone took his or her seat. The Welches said grace, Alex discovered to her mild surprise. Somehow, she wouldn’t have expected Joe to be a stickler about such things as Sunday church attendance and prayer before meals, but it was clear that he took his responsibilities as father of this crew seriously. Apparently it was Josh’s turn to do the honors. When his family turned expectant faces on him, he grimaced and cast a quick, almost embarrassed look at Neely before complying.

“Good food, good drink, good God, let’s eat! Amen.”

“Josh!” Joe said on a note of warning, giving him a narrow-eyed look.

Josh’s cheeks turned pink, and he cast another glance at Neely. “Oh, all right, then.
Thank you for what we are about to receive. Amen.”

“Better,” Joe said, and general conversation ensued as the food was passed and everyone began to eat. Fast food was not generally a favorite of hers, but the chicken was surprisingly good and Alex was surprised to find that she was actually able to consume a small portion of everything and enjoy what she ate.

“Can we ride your ATV now?” Neely asked Eli when the meal was over.

Eli glanced at his father.

“Sure.” Joe replied to the unspoken question. “As soon as your chores are done.”

“What chores?” Neely asked.

Eli grimaced. “I load the dishwasher. Josh clears, Jen scrapes. Usually, Dad cooks.” A grin dawned. “Ruffles eats the scraps. Grandpa gets to do whatever he wants.”

“You’ll get to do whatever you want too, when you’re as old as I am,” Cary Welch retorted as they all rose from the table. He looked at his son. “Well, Joe, I think I’m going to mosey on out and check on Victory Dance. If you need me for anything, I’ll be in the barn.”

Joe nodded, and glanced at Alex. “You want to go take a look around Whistledown now?”

“Sure.” On her feet now with one hand resting on the back of the chair she had just vacated, Alex glanced at Neely. Her sister, who had surely never done such a thing in her life, was helping Jenny scrape plates. Wonders would never cease. “Neely, I’m going up to Whistledown now.”

Neely waved an airy hand over her shoulder. “Have fun.”

“You need a coat,” Joe said as they headed toward the back door. Before Alex could reply he snagged a garment off the coatrack by the back door and dropped it over her shoulders. It was an ancient green army jacket, and, she discovered as she buttoned herself into it, it was big enough for her to swim in. She guessed it belonged to Joe. He shrugged into the blue parka he’d worn when she had first set eyes on him. Alex was reminded again of the grim man she’d first met, and smiled to herself, thinking, What a difference a day makes.

The sun was shining brightly, Alex saw as she stepped out onto the small stoop, but evidence of last night’s storm was everywhere. Puddles as big as ponds stood in the yard and the fields, shining almost gaily in the sunlight, and limbs littered the ground. Narrow streams ran through mini-canyons of reddish brown clay that bisected the flattened grass. More mud had washed over the black asphalt of the driveway, and lay now in a thin layer, drying in the sun. The air was crisp and cold, and the smell of wet earth was strong.

“You have any objection to riding in a pickup truck?” Joe asked as he stopped beside her. Alex looked where he nodded to discover a battered blue truck parked in front of the shed he apparently used for storage. As the SUV he’d driven the night before (it was a dark green Chevy Blazer, Alex saw by daylight) was parked beside the truck, she assumed that there was a reason for his preference for the truck.

“Why would I?” she said, giving him a narrow-eyed look. “I like pickup trucks.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned as his eyes swept her face. “Well, I like debutante balls, too. Come on, then, Princess. I want to drop some feed off by my barn while we’re out and about.”

Seventeen

I
have to ask you something,” Alex said as she followed Joe into his barn. He carried a hundred-pound sack of sweet feed on his shoulder as easily as if it had been a loaf of bread. No wonder the man hadn’t had any trouble carrying her around! He must heft loads like this every day.

He lifted his eyebrows at her questioningly. They were black and thick, like his hair.

“Where did you
get
this?” She tugged on the sleeve nearest her.

The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What, my coat? Don’t you like it?”

“It’s—um—bright. And a very unusual shade of blue.” It also added bulk to a torso that she had already discovered was very nicely muscled on its own.

They were inside the barn now. The distinctive smells of hay and horse reached her nostrils. The overhead light was on, and a glance told Alex that Cary Welch was down at the far end, leading a horse out of its stall.

“It’s UK blue. UK being the University of Kentucky Wildcats. This is my spirit coat.” His eyes danced as he opened the door to a small room
just past his office, and raised his voice almost to a yell. “Now, Pop down there is a U of L fan.”

Cary Welch looked around, then waved a dismissive hand at them. “Wait till game time, and we’ll see who wins.”

Joe laughed, and moved inside what Alex saw was a storage room to deposit the sack of feed on the ground.

“I take it you’re talking about a basketball game,” Alex said dryly.

“University of Kentucky versus the University of Louisville. A classic basketball rivalry. The big game’s this Saturday.” He emerged from the storage room and closed the door, carefully latching it behind him, and glanced down at her. “I’d tell you to catch it on TV, but you’ll be back home by then and I doubt they’ll carry it in Philadelphia.”

“Yeah.” The thought of going home gave Alex a pang, and instantly she knew why. This thing with Joe—this awareness, this sexual vibration—was not going to have a chance to develop. Tomorrow she’d be on an airplane, probably never to see him again.

“Hey, Joe, come here a minute. I want you to look at Vicky’s hoof,” Cary called.

Joe headed toward where his father stood with the horse, and Alex fell into step beside him. Most of the stalls were empty, and Alex assumed the horses had been turned out for the day. Her heels sank into the thick carpet of neatly raked sawdust. Her ankles wobbled, and she instinctively clutched at Joe’s arm for support. He looked down at her with a faint smile.

“High heels and barns don’t mix,” he said.

“Tell me about it.”

Then they reached Cary and the horse. The big red thoroughbred was the same tall, skinny, neglected-looking creature she had championed yesterday, and he looked no better today. His liquid brown eyes gazed into hers with what she could swear was recognition. He snorted gently, and nudged her upper arm with his head. She patted him.

“Here, give him this,” Joe said, passing over a cellophane-wrapped peppermint candy. Alex unwrapped it and offered it on her palm to the horse, who picked it up with soft lips and chewed with obvious satisfaction. Ignored by the men now, Alex murmured to him and spent a few
minutes rubbing his big head while the scent of peppermint filled the air. Meanwhile, Joe and his father passed his right front hoof back and forth, poking and prodding at it while they discussed the merits of various treatments for whatever the problem was.

“What do you think of him, Alex?” Cary asked when the two men were finished, and Victory Dance was once again standing on all four legs.

“He looks like he could use a few square meals and a regimen of vitamins to me,” Alex said. “Or at least a couple dozen more peppermints.”

Joe laughed, and Cary shook his head at her. “Young lady, this is a champion. You mark my words. Don’t laugh, son. If I’m wrong about this, I’ll never make another prediction again for the rest of my life.”

“The funny thing about it is, he knows horses, and he’s not wrong about them too often,” Joe said as Cary led Victory Dance away and he and Alex were walking out of the barn toward the truck again. The gravel outside was as bad for high heels as the sawdust within, and Alex curled a hand around his elbow without even thinking about it. “That’s why I bought him in spite of the way he looks. He belongs to me, by the way, not Whistledown Farm.”

There was a slight crispness to that last that told Alex that the situation with Whistledown still rankled.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” she said, glancing up at him. They had reached the truck by this time, and her hand slid away from his elbow as he opened the passenger-side door for her. “About being the bearer of bad tidings, I mean. Believe me, this whole situation isn’t easy for me, either.”

His mouth, which had compressed when he said that about owning the horse, relaxed into a wry half-smile. “No, I don’t guess it is.”

She climbed up into the truck, and he slammed her door, then came around the hood and got in beside her.

“So tell me about yourself,” he said, starting the engine and turning the truck around. Alex grabbed on to the door as the vehicle lurched. “What was it like to grow up filthy rich?”

“Not as much fun as you might think.” Alex rested her head back against the blue vinyl seat and turned her eyes toward him. “I had a lot of
toys when I was little, a lot of clothes when I grew older, lessons for everything under the sun. Tennis, golf, skiing, piano, dance—you name it, I probably had lessons in it. We owned a lot of big houses, with lots of servants, and once I was old enough I could basically travel anywhere I wanted to go. But you know, you can only own so many things, and you can only go so many places. After a while, none of it really seems to matter that much. Or at least, I don’t think it matters. I’ve never
not
been rich. I don’t think it’s going to be so bad, but I don’t know.”

“You get used to it.” Joe gave a grunt of laughter as the truck bumped up onto the road. “Did you go to school?”

“Of course I went to school. Boarding schools, actually. Shipley, the Pensionat de la Chassotte in Switzerland, and Le Rosey. Rich kids always go to boarding school. It gets them out of the way.”

Joe’s glance was keen. “Where is your mother? Is she still alive?”

Alex nodded. “She’s done even better than my father: she’s on her
seventh
husband. She’s living in Australia now. We don’t have a great deal of contact, although she will call occasionally. Number one, she can’t abide the idea of having a grown daughter. It makes her feel old. Number two, she can’t abide Neely. Although, to be quite accurate, it’s not Neely per se that she can’t abide. She’s never so much as set eyes on her. It’s the
idea
of Neely.”

“How so?”

“My mother was my father’s second wife. Neely’s mother was his third wife. My mother blames Neely’s mother for stealing her husband from her, even at this late date. She doesn’t seem to realize that if it wasn’t Neely’s mother, it would have been someone else. My father was into young and beautiful women. Once they were no longer young and beautiful, then his attitude was
off with their heads.
Well, metaphorically speaking, of course.”

Joe looked at her curiously. “So who did you stay with during summers and Christmas vacation and times like that? Your father or your mother?”

“Both. Neither. Sometimes I’d go home with friends. Or I would stay at one or the other of our houses, but my parents were generally not there when I was. They’d be off doing their thing, and I’d do my thing. There was always staff to look after me, of course.”

“Sounds kind of lonely.”

“Actually, it wasn’t. I liked being on my own. Then when Neely came along, I would always spend vacations wherever she was. Her mother died when she was six, so I’ve been the closest thing she’s had to one ever since. None of my father’s subsequent wives were interested in taking on the job. Several of them had children of their own, and the ones who didn’t, well, let’s just say they weren’t particularly motherly types.”