He shook his head. "Go on. I feel like a drive, that's all."
The old man hesitated before stepping into the rainy darkness. "You can get ajob anywhere, Cal. Good men like you are hard to find."
"I'm not worried." But he was. After twenty years, the Triple J had become home. Cal wasn't looking forward to starting over.
After reading through most of the paperwork given to her by her father'slawyer, Addie came to realize that just because she had inherited a great dealof property didn't mean that her financial problems were over. Oh, there wassome money in her father's bank accounts, but she'd have to wait until some ofthe land was sold before she had extra cash.
"Sell it all," her mother said, eyeing the array of legal papers spreadacross the kitchen table. "Buy yourself a nice three-bedroom town house. RoundRock has good schools, you know. Make yourself a home, honey. Lord knows youdeserve some good fortune. Make the most of it."
"I can't just put everything up for sale, not without looking at it first."
"Sure you can." Paula popped open a can of diet cola and leaned against thekitchen counter. "Call a real estate agent and give her the list of propertiesand the current evaluations. Let someone else take care of this."
"I want to see the ranch."
"Why?"
"It's where my father lived." She shrugged. "I guess I'm curious."
Her mother sighed. "I suppose I'd be curious, too, if I were in your shoes.What Eddie's done, and where he was all these years, has sure been a mystery.And to think he was only seventy or so miles away. I could have passed him onthe streets ofAustinand never known it."
"So you'll go?"
"Go?" Paula frowned, creasing an otherwise unlined forehead. She lookedyounger than her fifty-three years. Her gray-streaked blond hair was cut tochin length, her skin held few wrinkles and her blue eyes usually shone withgood humor. She could talk a blue streak, but Addie knew that her mother'scommon sense had successfully gotten her through a life that hadn't been easy.
"Go with us to see the Triple J. That's its name."
"When? I can't take any more days off right now."
"Saturday, then. We'll take the boys and make an adventure out of it. I'vebeen doing a lot of thinking this afternoon," Addie said, motioning for hermother to sit down. The boys, watchingSesame Streetin the living room, werefinally content to sit still for ten minutes. And Addie, now that her stomachhad settled down, had convinced herself once again that she simply had a touchof the flu.
"It's a wonder you can concentrate, being sick and all," her mother said,clearing a place at the small table.
"I'm feeling fine now, Mom. Look-" Addie pointed to the list of assets "-thisshould belong to you. All of it. It's not fair that my father left everythingto me."
"Of course it is." Paula's eyes filled with tears. "It's more fair thananything I can think of. Who deserves the money more?"
"You do. I say we split this, fifty-fifty."
"No. I have my job and my condo, and I'm fine. I don't need anything fromEddie Johanson at this stage of my life. What matters is that you and the boyshave a secure future now."
"I would rather have had a father." She sighed, remembering how thrilled Jackhad been when she'd told him she was pregnant. "And now my boys don't haveone, either."
"You'll marry again," her mother assured her. "You're still young. You'llmeet someone."
"Someone who wants to be a father to someone else's kids?" Addie thought ofthe tall man at Billy's. He'd had kind eyes and the kind of face that a womanliked looking at, not too handsome and not too cute. His body had been leanand strongly muscled, and his large hands knew how to touch a woman. He'd useda condom.He'd used a condom. There was no reason to think there was anythingwrong with her that chicken soup and saltine crackers couldn't fix.
Chapter 3.
"Next stop, Nowhere!" Addie turned to make sure that the boys hadn't wriggledout of their seat belts or car seats. Her sons were stocky versions of theirfather, with light brown hair and eyes. They grinned at her, though Ian'ssmile was wider than Matt's. Younger by two minutes, Matthew was the one wholiked to think things over and take his time deciding on things. RambunctiousIan usually led the way, but if his twin decided on an opposite game orventure, he invariably gave in. Matthew was nothing if not stubborn.
Like his father, whose last words to his wife, on his cell phone, had been,"Don't worry. I'm fine." And he'd fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed intoa tree. So much for being careful. And so much for promises.
"You look terrible," Paula grumbled, adjusting her sunglasses. "You're notsleeping well, again, are you?"
"No," Addie confessed. "There's a lot to think about." Like what the ranchwould look like, and if she would want to live there. And should she buy apregnancy test. She'd lain awake for the past two nights wondering what wouldhappen next. At least she didn't have to worry about having enough money. Yetshe worried about making stupid mistakes with what she'd inherited.
"I know you've got a lot on your mind, honey, but take it one thing at atime. That's what you've done since Jack died, and you've done real well."
"Thanks." But she didn't think that "one day at a time" stuff worked foreverything. It didn't help insomnia, and it wasn't going to help with a pileof legal papers and the death of a father she'd never known. And it wasn'tgoing to make any magic if she was unmarried and pregnant and didn't know thefather's name-and didn't want to. What was she supposed to tell her family?Her mother was going to have a stroke. And her kids weren't old enough to askquestions now, but someday they'd want to know where their little brother orsister had come from.
Why, from Billy's bar, on Highway 35, she'd say. A lot ofTexasbabies comefrom there.
"First you look at this ranch, get it out of your system. And then you putthose building lots-where are they?"
"San Marcos."
"Fine.San Marcos. I told you two nights ago, you put those up for sale andthen you buy yourself a nice, new car."
"We'reboth buying new cars, Mom."
"I don't want Eddie's money,Adelaide."
"You're going to refuse a gift from your daughter?" She grinned at hermother, who didn't return the smile.
"Yes, I most certainly am." She unfolded aTexasmap that was on the seat. "Howfar away is this place?"
"A little over seventy miles."
"Good heavens. If you actually decide to move there, that'll put an end to mybabysitting."
"No, it won't, because you're moving with me."
"You're full of nonsense."
"You've said a thousand times that you're tired ofAustinand the traffic. Andyou can't wait until you retire from teaching. You've said that a thousandtimes, too."
"Well," Paula grumbled, "that doesn't mean I want to spend the rest of mylife taking care of cows."
"Who said anything about cows?"
"It's a ranch, sweetheart. Cows are what make ranches, well, ranches."
"Neither one of us knows anything about ranching, Mom. But it might be agreat place to raise the boys, as long as it's not too far from a town."
"Well, don't get your hopes up." Paula tossed the map aside and frowned atthe traffic. "If Eddie had money to buy property and stocks, he sure wasn'tputting money into keeping a nice house. He pinched every penny he had, rightdown to our honeymoon. My folks gave us a real nice party in the churchbasement, cake and punch and little sandwiches, and then off we went, inEddie's old Buick. It broke down before we got toSan Antonio, so we spent thenext two days in a motel next to an auto body shop so Ed could do the work onthe car himself."
"You never told me that before."
"To this day, I can't stand the smell of car grease." She made a face."Reminds me of my honeymoon."
Addie couldn't help laughing, which she suspected was exactly what her motherhad in mind. "Did you ever get toSan Antonio?"
"No. But I did get pregnant."
"I guess being a father scared him?"
"Truly?" Paula shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I never really understoodhim. We were as different as night and day. So one day, when you were abouttwo, we had another argument and he walked out. I thought he'd gone to cooloff somewhere, you know, get a beer and calm down, the way he always did. ButI never saw him again."
"Not even for the divorce?"
"Not even then. No one knew where the man went off to. If I'd known he was still inTexas, I would have hunted him down and made him explain himself. Butthen again, he wasn't much for explaining things. I thought he was the strong,silent type, and then the 'silent' part was what was so hard on the marriage.That man wasn't much of a talker."
"I wonder how he died. Did the lawyer say?"
"No." Paula sighed. "I guess I should have thought to ask."
"I think we were in shock that morning."
"Well, sweetie, I'm sure we'll get all the answers you want when we get toNowhere." She shook her head. "What a name!"
But Nowhere, to their surprise, turned out to be a pleasant-looking town.Antique stores lined the main street, along with one large restaurant, twocoffee shops and an array of quaint storefronts that housed lawyers, a shoestore, bank, post office and bakery. A large town hall stood on one corner,surrounded by green lawn and sidewalks, and at the edge of town was a DairyQueen.
"So far so good," Addie said, realizing that she hadn't seen a tall,muscular, rancher-type man with dark hair walking down the sidewalk. Maybe shereally would never see him again. Or maybe he didn't live in Nowhere at all.And if she was very lucky-which she wasn't, of course-he would have movedtoAlaska. Her mother thought she was commenting on the looks of the town.
"I see school signs, but no school." Paula turned to reassure her grandsonsthat she would buy them ice cream later on, but only if they were very good."How much farther is this ranch of yours?"
"Only six or seven miles."
"You think real long and hard before deciding to move way out here," hermother said. "Don't make any hasty decisions."
"I won't," Addie promised. The last hasty decision she'd made resulted inmorning sickness. One of these days she was going to have to buy a pregnancytest kit and find out, once and for all, what was going on with her body. ButAddie knew that as soon as she did that, she could be faced with something shewasn't ready to explain. She let the thought of having a little girl in pinkruffles float through her brain, and reached into her purse for anothersaltine cracker.
Of course Addie fell in love with the house. Paula watched her daughter'sface light up when she stepped out of the car and saw the old, three-story,gabled monstrosity. It needed paint. It probably needed a new roof. And if theoutside was any indication of the inside, it was going to need an army ofcarpenters and repairmen.
But Paula saw her daughter's expression and kept quiet. She hadn't seen sucha look of happiness in years. And Addie, who loved nothing more than paintingand papering and decorating, who watched the design shows on HGTV, who hadowned not one but three doll houses when she was a child, was alreadyimagining the house when it was restored.
Paula hid a sigh. So this is where Eddie had lived and died. Maybe he waseven buried here. It was the kind of place that looked like it would have afamily cemetery. If so, she would put flowers on his grave, as she'd forgivenhim long ago. Sort of.
"Mom, look at the porch." Addie was pointing to a mammoth addition on thesouth side of the house. "Won't the boys love playing on that?"
"We'd better see what condition it's in first," Paula said, imaginingsplinters and rusty nails and trips to the emergency room of the localhospital, if there was such a thing.
But Addie was examining the key ring given to her by the round-faced lawyer."I can't wait to see the inside. I think the front door key is this one."
"Go on," Paula said. "I'll get the boys and follow you in a minute." Sheturned to smile at her handsome grandsons. "You were very good boys today,"she told them. "Grandma's gonna buy you some ice cream on the way home."
"Yay!" Ian shrieked, while Matthew was busy unbuckling his seat belt. Paulamanaged to get them out of the car, eventually, though she wondered when seatbelts and car seats had gotten so damned complicated.
Addie was already inside, so Paula took each boy by the hand and led them upthe stone steps to the wide porch.
"Is anybody home?" Matt wanted to know, peering through the open door.
"Is this a school?"
"No, this is a house, and no one lives here. Not right now." And, from thelooks of the front hall, whoever lived here hadn't spent much money making itlook nice. That answered the question of whether Eddie had ever married again.
"Mom?" Addie poked her head out from around a corner. "You have to see theparlor."
"I'm sure I do." She kept her grip on the boys' little hands and turnedright, into a large room that looked as if it hadn't been occupiedsinceTexasdeclared statehood. The light fixture, a Victorian marvel of glassand bronze, was the only thing in the room aside from an ornate woodstove withits chimney disappearing into the outside wall. The rest of the downstairs wassimilar-bare, dusty rooms with no furniture, and drapes hanging in shreds atthe long windows. The floors were made of large pine boards, and the wallsheld fading floral paper. A large bathroom boasted pink and black tiles and aclaw-foot tub. One room with a fireplace, that must have served as Eddie'sliving area, had a battered green recliner and a large television set.
"Your father sprung for cable," Paula said. "Imagine that."
"Well, we can see why he had money to buy land." Addie's hands were on herhips, and Matt leaned against her leg.
"I'm afraid to look in the kitchen."
"No kidding." Her daughter headed to a door that Paula guessed would lead tothe Room From Hell. "Brace yourself."
"I'll breathe through my mouth." But she almost forgot to breathe at all whenshe entered the largest kitchen she'd ever seen. The room was an enormousrectangle, with a long counter, stove and sink lined up on two of the walls,along with two refrigerators that were probably older than Addie. A wide farmtable dominated the room, surrounded by wooden chairs of various shapes andstyles.
"It looks like something out of a magazine," Addie said, obviously meaning itas a compliment, from the awed look on her face. Paula decided not to comment,because Matt let go of her hand and climbed onto one of the chairs.
"Cool!" Ian followed him and the two of them sat at the large table grinningat the devoted women in their lives. "Is it lunchtime yet?"
"Who lives here?" Matt wanted to know, eyeing the hunting rifles mountedbeside the back door.
"No one," his mother said, reaching for him. "Let's go upstairs and seewhat's there."
They had passed a wide staircase in the front hall, but a narrow set ofstairs lay to the right of the back door. Paula followed the boys and Addie upthe stairs to the second floor, which was hot and stuffy. She counted fivebedrooms and one bathroom. Each bedroom had its own pedestal sink, as if theplace had been an inn at one time.
Another set of stairs led to another hall with three more bedrooms and another bathroom, plus a narrow set of stairs Addie predicted led to an attic.
"We'll save the attic for another time," she said. "I just want to take itall in and picture myself living here."
Her mother blanched. "But you don't know anything about ranching."
"Who said it's going to be a ranch?" "You just have to look around-cows,horses, barns, pastures. Spells 'ranch' to me."