“It’s very warm in here, isn’t it?”

“And getting warmer by the minute,” he said.

Marshaling her composure, Mary Beth turned and tried to remember what they’d been talking about. Heating and cooling. Ductwork. She smiled, nervous. “Texas summers are always hot. What do you suggest?”

“It’s always been my feeling that if you’ve got an itch, you ought to scratch it.” He swiped his handkerchief over his chest. And over his navel.

Aware that her gaze had followed the handkerchief’s path, she jerked her attention away again, her face fiery. “I was talking about heating and cooling the apartment.”

“You can always pick up a couple of second-hand window units to use temporarily through the summer, but come winter, you’ll have to think about keeping warm.” He gave her a lopsided grin that told her he’d be happy to provide the warmth.

“J.J., stop that!”

Dear Reader,

This book is the first of three about the Outlaw family. I hope you’ll enjoy them. The germ of the idea for the Outlaw brothers came when I remembered Jesse James—not Jesse James the Missouri outlaw, but Jesse James the Texas state treasurer who held office many years ago. Talk about name recognition! And how could you resist the irony of having a famous outlaw in charge of the state’s money? He was reelected for years.

From that bit of history I created old Judge John Outlaw, a wily Texas politician who started the tradition of naming his sons after famous outlaws to give them a leg up in the world (name recognition) and pointing them in the direction of politics and public service. His grandsons, all charmers, have fulfilled his dream and are in law enforcement: a sheriff, a judge and a cop.

The series is set in Naconiche (NAK-uh-KNEE-chee), a fictitious small county seat in the east Texas area where I was born and still live as of this writing. Although there’s a real Naconiche Creek, the town and colorful characters are from my imagination—but, trust me, they could be real. And the love stories…well, love is always real.

Join me on a bus trip to the Piney Woods, and we’ll soon arrive at the town square of Naconiche, population 2438. We can stay at the Twilight Inn….

To love and laughter!

Jan Hudson

The Sheriff

Jan Hudson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To old friends

Tootie, Elizabeth, Wanda and Carol

for all the happy times and winning hands

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter One

When the Greyhound bus pulled to a stop at Wally’s Feed Store, a ton of memories flooded Mary Beth Parker. This was the first time she’d been back to Naconiche, Texas, in twelve years—a lifetime ago, or so it seemed.

“Wake up, Katy,” she whispered to her daughter, kissing the little blond head that nestled against her. “We’re here.”

Katy stretched and yawned, moving slowly, tired after the long trip from Natchez. Mary Beth had hated to put the four-year-old through the exhausting bus trip, but there simply wasn’t enough cash to buy plane tickets—even if there had been an airport nearby. They had endured some rough times in the past two years, but their luck had finally changed. Just when she was starting to feel most desperate, Mary Beth had received word of an inheritance. A distant relative on her father’s side had died and left everything to her—not a huge estate, the attorney had cautioned, but anything at all would be welcome to Mary Beth. She and Katy had been living off the kindness of friends.

Mary Beth struggled to her feet and got her crutches and her carry-on from the overhead bin. The blasted cast on her foot made moving in the cramped space awkward, and her leg ached from the long ride.

“Don’t forget Penelope and your toy bag,” she told Katy. Penelope, a worn, flop-eared stuffed dog, went everywhere with her daughter, including to bed at night.

Several passengers called goodbye as they moved down the aisle. With her bubbly personality, Katy had become the mascot of the group and had told anybody who would listen, “We’re going to find our fortune in the town where my mommy was queen.” Katy was quite precocious, but she hadn’t learned the finer points of discretion yet.

The driver helped them off and unloaded their bags from the belly of the bus. “Good luck to you, ma’am. And to you, too, Katy.”

“Thanks, Mr. Emmett.” Katy waved merrily and turned to face the old courthouse across the street. “Where’s the square, Mommy? The one where you rode when you were queen.”

“That’s it, sugarplum. See, the courthouse is in the middle and the streets make a square around it.”

As the bus drove away, a tan sheriff’s car pulled up. The door opened and a tall man in a black cowboy hat climbed out. Mary Beth thought his slow, deliberate movements seemed familiar. Broad-shouldered and ruggedly handsome, he walked as if he owned the place. When he started toward her, a big grin spread across his face.

Her heart almost stopped. It was the grin that she recognized—that Outlaw grin. The years had been kind to him; they had etched his face with character, changing him from a boy to a man.

Automatically her hand started to her hair, then she forced it back down. She looked as if she’d been pulled through a knothole backward and she knew it. She’d hoped to have time to prepare herself before running into him. Actually, she was hoping that he had moved to Houston or Topeka—somewhere far away so that she wouldn’t have to face him in her humiliation. But there he stood, sexy as all get-out, and her looking like a frump in rumpled clothes with sleep in her eyes. There was nothing to do but keep her chin up and play it cool.

“Mary Beth Beams? Darlin’, is that you?”

“J.J.?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.

“In the flesh,” he said, taking her into his arms in a bear hug.

The crutches made hugging him difficult, but she gave it her best shot. It felt so good to be in a strong, masculine embrace—so darned good. The years seemed to roll away. She was a girl again, secure in familiar arms.

“You look great,” he said, “but what in the world happened to your foot?”

“I broke it. A really stupid accident.”

She felt a tug on her jacket and looked down.

“Who’s he?” Katy asked in a loud whisper.

Mary Beth stepped away, grateful that her daughter had pulled her back to reality. J.J. seemed happy to see her, but she was sure the man hadn’t spent all this time pining for her. In fact, an old pain slashed through her as she recalled he hadn’t even pined for her a full day when she’d broken up with him all those years ago. But those days were long past. He probably had a wife and four kids by now. “This is J. J. Outlaw, an old friend of mine. J.J., this is my daughter, Katy.”

He grinned down at Katy, who was looking him over quite thoroughly, and tipped his hat. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Katy. Welcome to Naconiche.”

Katy frowned, inched closer to Mary Beth and said, “Are you a real outlaw? Outlaws are bad guys.”

J.J. chuckled. “My last name is Outlaw, but I’m one of the good guys. I’m the county sheriff.”

“Is that why you have a gun?”

He nodded gravely. “For emergencies. In case I meet up with any real bad guys.”

“Do you put people in the pokey? My daddy—”

Horrified at what her daughter was about to blurt out, Mary Beth clamped her hand over Katy’s mouth. “You’re the sheriff now? I thought your father would be sheriff forever.”

J.J. laughed. “I was beginning to think that, too, but he retired last year, and I ran for his job and won the election.”

“It’s great to see you again,” Mary Beth said, trying her best to act casual. Seeing J.J. again aroused a legion of conflicting feelings inside her, and her emotions were already stretched dangerously thin after a grueling seventeen-hour bus trip. He’d once been the love of her life…. She couldn’t deal with him right now, she thought, looking around. “Mr. Murdock was supposed to meet us, but I don’t see him. Where is his office?”

“On the other side of the square.” J.J. motioned across the way. “But he’s in court right now, and no telling when he’ll be done. He asked me to meet you and get you settled.”

Her heart hit the pavement. Since it seemed that there was no escaping him, she pushed all her memories and muddled emotions behind a thick door and locked it. Lifting her chin and giving him a perky smile, she said, “Why, isn’t that sweet of you, J.J.”

“No problem. Will you be staying at Ouida’s Bed-and-Breakfast?”

Surprised by his question, Mary Beth said, “I—I don’t know where we’ll be staying. I had assumed that we could stay at the motel, but I suppose it might be full.”

“The motel?”

“Yes, The Twilight Inn. I inherited it, you know. The motel and the restaurant next door. Marjorie Bartlett owned it, but she died a few months ago and left it to me. Well, she actually didn’t leave it to me…or to anybody. She had Alzheimer’s and had been in a nursing home for years, but she was my father’s cousin and I’m the only relative left on his side of the family. On either side, really. Since my folks died, I’m it, except for some of my mom’s cousins in Bremerton, Washington, and I’ve never met any of them. Truthfully, I barely remembered Cousin Marjorie, but I’m extremely thankful to have inherited her property.” She laughed. “Sorry, I’m babbling, but I’m very tired. I’m eager to get settled at the motel and soak in a warm bath.”

J.J. looked puzzled and was about to say something when Katy tugged her mother’s jacket again and pointed. “Look, Mommy! There’s a giant ice-cream cone in front of that store.”

“The Double Dip,” Mary Beth said, smiling. “Is that place still operating?”

“Sure is,” J.J. said. “My mother runs it now.”

“Do they sell ice cream? Could I have some, please, please, please?” Katy danced around as she pleaded.

J.J. hoisted Katy up into his arms, “’Course you can, Miss Katy. I’ll treat you and your mother to ice cream while we wait for Mr. Murdock to finish his case. Is that okay, Mary Beth? Mama would love to see you.”

“Please, Mommy. Please, please, please. Could I have chocolate with sprinkles?”

Mary Beth stroked a wayward curl from Katy’s forehead and smiled. “Okay.” She glanced at her luggage. “But what will we do with our bags?”

“Wally!” J.J. shouted, it seemed like to no one in particular. “Keep an eye on Mary Beth’s stuff, will you?”

“Yep,” a voice answered from behind a stack of feed sacks.

“This way, ladies,” J.J. said, slipping his free hand under Mary Beth’s elbow as she hobbled along the sidewalk. “Wait, I forgot about your foot. Should I drive you over?”

“Heavens, no. It’s only half a block, and I’m tired of sitting. I need to stretch.”

As they walked, slowly because of the crutches, Katy chattered a mile a minute—about their bus ride, about her dolls, about her best friend Emily in Natchez, but not, thank goodness, about her daddy. It was bad enough that the homecoming queen had returned practically penniless, but Mary Beth wasn’t ready to announce to everyone in her old hometown that her ex-husband was in prison.

The pressure of J.J.’s hand was steady and secure. Steady. Secure. Rock solid. She could feel the staggering weight of two years of stress begin to ease.

Had it been two years? It seemed like a lifetime ago that the police had come for her husband and his name was plastered across the newspaper headlines. Shocked by Brad’s subsequent indictment for embezzlement, she’d been quickly hit with the fact that they were in debt up to their eyebrows. Brad had always insisted on handling the finances and, like a fool, she’d trusted him. And like a fool she’d never questioned how he supported their lavish lifestyle and his gambling habit. He’d gone to prison, and the mortgage company had foreclosed on their beautiful home. Most of their assets had gone for attorney fees and toward restitution. She’d been left only with her car, part of the furniture that was paid for and her personal possessions—what she hadn’t hocked to pay the utilities.

She and Katy had been left literally on the street. A friend had generously provided them a place to live, and after some of the bewilderment had worn off, Mary Beth had given herself a good talking-to. The time had come for her to stop acting like such a wuss and take control of her life. After searching want ads, asking around among the few friends still associating with her and going on endless interviews, she landed a job as an aerobics instructor. It wasn’t much, but the deal was better than anything else she could find—and she was a darned good instructor. They were managing to get back on their feet, when Mary Beth had her accident. With no income and no insurance, the situation was bleak. As her meager bank balance dwindled, panic had set in. She had a child to feed and clothe. She had wept and prayed and cursed Brad Parker and her own stupidity for marrying him.

Now walking down this street in Naconiche, she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t moved away with her parents the summer after she graduated from high school? What would her life have been like if she’d stayed here and married J.J. instead of the scoundrel she’d chosen?

Yet, without Brad Parker there would have been no Katy. And Katy was worth every humiliation she’d endured.

What was done, was done and she was back now, starting over in the place she’d been so eager to leave. The grass hadn’t been greener on the other side of the fence, but it had taken her a long time to discover that. And she’d also learned that she couldn’t trust a man—or anyone else—to provide for her or make her happy. She had to depend on herself, make it on her own. And, by damn, she was giving it her best shot.

Mary Beth took a deep breath and immersed herself in the sights and sounds of her old hometown.

Very little about Naconiche had changed. The familiar clicking of shuffling dominoes came from under the shade tree on the courthouse lawn, where old men met to play every day except Sunday. Roses still bloomed beside the bank, and the smell of sizzling meat and frying onions from the City Grill wafted by her.

As they stepped inside the Double Dip, the cold-sweet scents of chocolate and peppermint and strawberry took her back a dozen and more years. How many times had she sat on one of those red stools at the counter and eaten a banana split with extra pecans or a hot-fudge sundae with her friends? Her throat tightened and tears sprang to her eyes.

She was home.

“Mom,” J.J. said. “Look who I found. Mary Beth Beams. And this is her daughter Katy.”

“Mary Beth Parker, now.” She smiled at the gray-haired woman who had taught her in third grade. “It’s good to see you, Miss Nonie.”

“Mary Beth!” Her arms open wide, Nonie Outlaw hurried to the front of the store and enveloped her former student in a hug. “How wonderful to see you! And Katy, what a beautiful young lady you are. You look just like your mother when she was your age. We were so excited when Dwight Murdock told us you were coming to town. Welcome home.”

Another bit of tension gave way, and Mary Beth smiled. When she was seventeen, she could hardly wait to get away from the hick town where she’d grown up. Now that same town was her refuge.

Yes, she was finally home. Everything was going to be okay.

NONIE OUTLAW PLAYED with Katy, while J.J. and Mary Beth sat at one of the marble tables by the window. He felt himself grinning like an idiot as he watched Mary Beth dig into the banana split she’d ordered. She’d been a pretty girl the last time he saw her. Now she was a beautiful woman. He thought he’d forgotten her—but he hadn’t. All the old feelings came barreling down on him. It was like being blindsided by Shorty Badder’s log truck.

He’d been crazy about Mary Beth for as long as he could remember. He’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask her for a date when he was a senior in high school and she was a sophomore. From that moment on, they’d been a couple, even when he’d gone off to college in Huntsville the next year.

He thought of one of the last times he’d seen her. It was a week or two after she’d graduated from high school, and they had gone to a movie. He remembered her hiding her eyes against his shoulder during some of the scarier parts. Afterward, they had gone out to the overlook and parked.

He’d meant to propose to her that night—he had the ring in his pocket. But before he could ask her to marry him, she’d broken up with him. She told him that she and her family were moving to Dallas the next week—her father had gotten a sudden promotion—and besides, she’d be going off to college in the fall anyhow. She’d been accepted at some fancy school in Florida, one that he didn’t even know that she’d applied to. But then, Mary Beth had always had highfalutin ideas about getting out of Naconiche and seeing the world.

It had damned near broken his heart.

No, not damned near. It had broken his heart. Devastated him.

Instead of telling her he loved her and asking her to marry him the way he’d planned, pride had made him brush her off and turn his attention to Holly Winchell the very next night. Holly was a hot little number who worked as a waitress at the restaurant next to The Twilight Inn, the one that Mary Beth now owned. She’d been a sorry substitute for Mary Beth and the fling hadn’t lasted long. He couldn’t remember the name of the restaurant then—it had gone through several changes through the years—or what happened to Holly. In its heyday the old Twilight Inn had been a thriving business, but it had gone from bad to worse before it finally closed down about four or five years ago.

J.J. was afraid that Mary Beth was in for a disappointment if she was expecting much from that old property, but he didn’t want to be the one who let her down. He’d leave that up to Dwight Murdock.

His own strawberry sundae melted as he watched her eat, watched the dimple at the bottom corner of her mouth appear and disappear as she spooned ice cream between her lips. God, he’d spent many a night thinking about that dimple. She seemed to savor every bite, closing her eyes and sighing every once in a while in a way that was downright sexy.

Even though she looked tired, she was more attractive than any woman within a hundred miles. No, make that a thousand miles—or maybe farther. There was still something about her that made him want to cuddle her close and bury his nose in her thick blond hair—a thought he shouldn’t be thinking if there was a Mr. Parker still around. He’d noticed right away that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but these days lots of women didn’t. He tried to think of subtle ways to ask about her husband and couldn’t think of any. He’d never been much of one to pussyfoot around.

“You still married?”

She shook her head. “Divorced. Almost two years ago.”

He tried not to smile. Oh, hell, what was he thinking? A man would have to be crazy to get involved with Mary Beth again and get his heart broken twice. No, he wasn’t going down that road again.

But, damn, she sure stirred up something potent inside him.

“So how did you break your foot?” he asked.

“It would sound a lot more exciting if I said I hurt myself skiing in Vail, but the truth is, I fell down the steps of my apartment. A silly accident. I was carrying groceries. A bag started slipping, and I tried to save it. I lost the bag anyhow and broke two bones in my foot. That was the end of my career, too.”

“And what career was that?”

“I taught aerobics at the local health club. It wasn’t much of a career, but I was good at it, and I could leave Katy at the nursery there while I taught my classes. Child care is expensive these days. Everything is expensive these days. News of my inheritance couldn’t have come at a better time. Things were getting pretty tight for us.” Mary Beth paused for a moment, taking a deep breath.

So things had been hard lately for Mary Beth…

Her voice broke into his thoughts. “What about you? Do you have a family?”

“Just my folks, my brothers and my sister. I never got married. Guess I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Never even came close?”

“Only once.” He grinned. “Then I sobered up.”

She laughed and wiped her lips with a napkin. “There has to be a story in that.”

“Not really. I had too much champagne at Frank’s wedding and proposed to a bridesmaid from Texarkana. Luckily, she didn’t take me seriously.” Actually, there was more to the story than that, but he didn’t want to go into it.

“Oh, is Frank married?”

“He was. His wife was killed in a car wreck last year. He has twins, a boy and a girl, about Katy’s age.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Is Frank okay?”

J.J. shrugged. “Well as can be expected.” He glanced at his watch. “Let me go over to the courthouse and see how much longer Dwight will be. Stay here and visit with Mama till I get back.”

J.J. rose and hurried from the shop. Damn! He could hardly wait to get hold of Dwight Murdock. He might skewer that knuckleheaded lawyer for dragging him into this mess. He didn’t want to see the look on Mary Beth’s face when she found out about her inheritance.

MARY BETH PICKED UP their ice cream dishes and carried them to the counter. Katy, a paper napkin tucked under her chin, knelt on a stool watching Miss Nonie spooning sprinkles on an ice cream cone.

Katy beamed as Miss Nonie handed her the cone. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, precious.”

Mary Beth raised her eyebrow. “A second one?”

“Well, you see, I had sort of an ac-ci-dent with the first one. Miss Nonie said I shouldn’t worry. It happens to Janey and Jimmy all the time. We cleaned it up slick as a whistle. Isn’t that right, Miss Nonie?”

“It is indeed. Slick as a whistle.” The gray-haired woman gave Mary Beth a wink.

“Are Janey and Jimmy your grandchildren?” Mary Beth asked.

“Frank’s twins. A pair of imps.”

Mary Beth could tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she adored those imps. “Do you have any other grandchildren?”

“Not a one,” Nonie said. “There’s not a single in-law among the whole bunch of Outlaws. Frank married, but his wife was killed in a car wreck, and he doesn’t seem much interested in looking for another.”

“J.J. told me. A real tragedy. What about Cole?”

“Divorced. No children. He’s a homicide detective in Houston.”

“A homicide detective? And J.J.’s the sheriff. I love it. Did all the Outlaws end up in law enforcement?”

“Every single one of them,” Nonie told her.

Cole Younger Outlaw was the oldest son. Each of the Outlaw clan was named after an infamous character of the old West. J.J. was Jesse James, his older bother was Frank James; then came Sam Bass Outlaw and Belle Starr Outlaw.

J.J.’s grandfather, old Judge John Outlaw, had said that having a memorable name was an asset in business and politics. He named his sons John Wesley “Wes” Hardin Outlaw, Jr. and Butch Cassidy Outlaw and aimed them toward lives of public service. His idea must have worked. Wes had served as sheriff of Naconiche for as long as Mary Beth could remember and his brother Butch was a state senator.

Now, Nonie had told her, Frank was a judge, Sam was a Texas Ranger and Belle was an FBI agent. Holy!

Mary Beth glanced over her shoulder and was happy to see J.J. returning from the courthouse with a tall, slightly stooped man with a fringe of white hair and a red bow tie. She had enjoyed visiting with Miss Nonie, and Katy had been enthralled with everything in the ice-cream parlor and gift shop, but she was physically and emotionally exhausted. She wanted to get settled and have that bath she’d been fantasizing about.

Mr. Murdock, a courtly gentleman of the old school, apologized profusely for not being able to meet the bus. “The case simply couldn’t be rescheduled.”

“I understand, sir. J.J. took good care of us.”

J.J. grinned. “We aim to please. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get going. Just got a call that Cletus Medford’s cows broke the fence and several head are blocking the highway. Duty calls.” He winked at Mary Beth. “I’ll check on you later.” He touched the brim of his hat, turned and trotted for his car.

Mary Beth dragged her gaze from his retreating form, telling herself that she should be grateful for the duty that took him away. Try as she might, she couldn’t think kindly of those cows.

“I have some papers for you to sign in my office,” Mr. Murdock said, “and I expect you’ll be wanting to inspect the property. Shall we do that tomorrow morning?”

“Well, I suppose that the papers can wait until then, but I’d like to go on to the motel now. I’m without transportation. Could you drive us?”

“Certainly. I would be delighted. I see you’ve injured your foot. Let me retrieve my automobile, and I’ll pick you up out front.”

“Great. Our bags are over at the feed store.”

The lawyer hurried out, and Mary Beth said her goodbyes to Miss Nonie. “I’d love to see Sheriff Wes. What is he doing now that he’s retired?”

Nonie laughed. “Trying to keep from sticking his nose into J.J.’s affairs. He has a clock-repair business in the back of the store. He’s usually around since we live upstairs now, but he drove over to Cherokee an hour or so ago.”

“You don’t live on the ranch anymore?”

She shook her head. “With all our brood grown, the two of us just rattled around in that big house, so we divided up the ranch and gave it to the kids. We have a nice apartment upstairs that suits us fine. Oh, there’s Dwight.” Nonie gave Mary Beth and Katy another hug and waved to them as they went outside to the aging red Cadillac parked at the curb.

After they retrieved their luggage from the feed store, Mr. Murdock drove out toward the edge of town—which was really only a quarter of a mile or so from the square.

“I took it upon myself to make reservations for you at Ouida’s Bed-and-Breakfast,” the lawyer said. “I think you’ll find the place quite cozy. After you’ve had a chance to look over the property, I’m sure you’ll be anxious to rest and refresh yourself from your long trip.”

Mary Beth frowned. Why were they pushing the B and B? “That’s very kind of you, but we were planning to stay at the motel.” She didn’t add that they couldn’t afford to stay at Ouida’s place.

“The motel? But—but you can’t do that!”

“Why not? I own it, don’t I?”

“Yes, of course, but it simply isn’t suitable.”

“Why not?”

He pulled to a stop in front of a row of ramshackle buildings. “See for yourself.”

Stunned by the sight, she couldn’t speak. What had once been a neat strip of rooms separated by individual carports, with flowers overflowing from window boxes, was now an uninhabitable mess. Most of the paint had peeled away and the little that was left was a grimy, unrecognizable color covered by layers of graffiti. Windows were broken out and boarded up. Weeds grew waist-high around the place. Even the For Sale sign in front looked dilapidated and forlorn.

A sick feeling coiled in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to weep, but she wouldn’t—not yet, not here. She ground her teeth and tried to control the panic threatening to erupt.

Katy hung over the back seat, gawking. “What’s that place, Mommy? Is it haunted?”

“No, sugarplum, it’s not haunted. Mr. Murdock, is the restaurant this bad?”

“Actually, no. It was in use until last week. A Mexican place. Quite good food, in fact. Unfortunately, the tenants skipped town owing two months rent and with six months left on their lease.”

“Let’s look at it,” she said, her shoulders sagging. She didn’t hold out much hope that it would have a bathtub.

Chapter Two

It didn’t have a bathtub.

The restaurant did have electricity and a roof. There were bathrooms, labeled Señors and Señoritas, one of which was reasonably sanitary, Mary Beth decided after she’d checked them out. There was even a pay phone on the wall by the door. She picked up the receiver. It still had a dial tone. If she was lucky, maybe the previous tenants had left behind some food in their haste to skip out on their bills.

In any case the Tico Taco was now home.

“We won’t be going to Ouida’s,” she’d told Mr. Murdock. “We’ll be staying here. Could you help bring in our bags, please?”

“Here? But—but—but—” he’d sputtered like a rusty motor boat. “You can’t stay here!”

“Don’t I own it?”

“Well, of course.”

She smiled brightly. “Then I can stay here if I choose.”

“But it’s a restaurant. There are no beds.”

“I noticed that, too. But we can improvise, can’t we, Katy?”

“What’s improvise, Mommy?”

“It’s making do with what we have. We’ll pretend we’re camping and have lots of fun,” she said with a forced gaiety. “Those red booths look like they might do for beds. Pick out a soft one that you like,” she told her daughter.

“Okay.” Katy skipped away with her flop-eared dog.

Mary Beth turned to the elderly lawyer, who looked alarmed. “We’ll be just fine here, Mr. Murdock.”

“But, Mrs. Parker, it simply isn’t suitable for a woman and a child alone, especially with your injury. You’ll be much more comfortable at Ouida’s.”

“Perhaps so, but the plain truth is, sir, that I can’t afford to stay at the bed-and-breakfast. This will have to do.”

“Perhaps you could stay with friends, or I could advance you a small sum—”

She lifted her chin and stiffened her spine. “Thank you, Mr. Murdock, but no. The Tico Taco is perfectly adequate for the time being.” She pasted a big grin on her face. “Why, it’s the next best thing to a vacation in Mexico. We’ll have a grand time here. And it’s free.”

He hadn’t wanted to leave them alone, but she finally convinced him to go. After their bags were unloaded—Mr. Murdock muttering something about the modern generation of young ladies all the while—the man left. Mary Beth gripped the handles of her crutches tightly and resisted the urge to hobble after him, yelling for him to wait.

While Katy was still exploring, Mary Beth stood alone in the middle of the dining room and looked around at her new home.

Smells of corn tortillas, spices and old grease hung in the air. A coating of dust covered everything from the faded paper piñatas hanging from the ceiling to the scarred wood floor. It was a far cry from the lovely two-story home with the pillars that she’d lived in when Brad was embezzling money from the savings-and-loan company where he was vice president.

She ached to sit down in one of those old chairs, lay her head on the table and bawl like a baby.

But she didn’t. She’d learned early on that crying didn’t help her situation. It only made her face blotchy and alarmed Katy.

She was sick of playing the victim role. It was time for her to take charge of her life. A dozen times a day she told herself that. But that wasn’t as simple as it sounded, and she often overreacted in one extreme or the other. She was new to this business of being independent; it wasn’t her nature. There had always been a strong man around to handle things and it had been easy to acquiesce. Her father had been authoritarian and overly protective, and Brad had been mega-domineering. Come to think of it, J.J. had been that type as well—not as bad as Brad perhaps, but inclined in that direction. He was definitely a take-charge kind of guy. Was he still?

In a way, she supposed, this whole experience with Brad’s arrest and the mess she found herself in might be a good thing. “Things happen for a reason,” her mother had always said. Maybe one day she’d look back on this time and think of it as character-building, but it was hard for her to be philosophical when she was tired and scared and broke. She was beginning to think that character-building was vastly overrated. Maybe being an independent woman was overrated, too. She felt like a tangle of contradictions: determined to stand on her own two feet on one hand while wanting to yell for someone to save her on the other.

Sometimes life was a bitch.

Mary Beth knew that she couldn’t depend on a white knight riding in to save her—although it had been tempting to simply melt into J.J.’s arms and never let go. When he’d hugged her at the bus station, it had seemed so right. He’d seemed like a knight in a cowboy hat, and Naconiche had seemed like Camelot.

“Things always work out for the best” had been another of her mother’s sayings. That had become Mary Beth’s mantra. Somehow, some way, things were going to work out. She was determined to believe that.

And, dammit, she was going to become an independent woman or die trying.

Mary Beth turned on the ceiling fans and opened a couple of windows to air out the place, then she made her way to the kitchen. First things first. She and Katy had to eat.

Luck was with her. The pantry yielded a treasure trove, including several restaurant-sized cans of tomatoes, salsa, jalapeño peppers and beans. And more chili powder, cumin and other spices than she could use in fifty years. There was even part of a bag of rice and a ten-pound sack of onions that looked okay. The former tenants must have been in a powerful hurry not to have taken all the food along with them.

She found several blocks of cheese in the walk-in refrigerator, along with a few items past their prime, such as smelly milk, some rusty-looking lettuce and a couple of mushy bags of food she couldn’t identify. A shame about the milk. But she did find a box of individual cream cups, the kind used for coffee, two cartons of butter pats and five eggs that seemed okay.

In the big freezer, she discovered several packages of tortillas, an unopened box of chicken breasts that would feed Katy and her for weeks and another big box of ground beef.

She heaved a huge sigh and sent a prayer heavenward. At least they wouldn’t starve.

Making a quick tour of the rest of the kitchen, she found that the grill and the large stainless-steel gas stove were reasonably clean and in working order. She was grateful for her volunteer stint in the Junior League kitchens, since the stove was similar to one she’d learned to operate there. The grease in the deep fryer needed to be tossed and the fryer could stand a good scrubbing—but not now. Several big pots hung from an overhead rack, and there were enough smaller ones to do for Katy and her. There were two huge dishwashers and a triple stainless-steel sink.

“Mommy!”

“I’m here, honey.” She hobbled from the kitchen.

“Penelope and I have to go to the bathroom.”

“It’s right there,” Mary Beth said, pointing to the Señoritas door.

Katy frowned and glanced from the door to Mary Beth. “Would you go with us? Penelope is kind of…” The girl glanced at the door again.

Mary Beth smiled. “Uncomfortable in a new place?”

“Yes. I told her it was okay, but she’s uncomfortable.”

“No problem, sweetie.” She took Katy and her dog to the bathroom. And while she was there, she scoured the sink and other fixtures with an industrial-style cleanser she found in a cabinet.

The whole place needed cleaning, but she was too tired to tackle it all. She gave Katy a dust rag and instructions to wipe down the tables and booths while she tackled the kitchen and came up with dinner.

Other than a surface layer of greasy dust, the kitchen wasn’t too bad—apart from some things that looked suspiciously like mouse droppings. Rodents of all shapes and sizes gave her the willies. She convinced herself that the evidence was very old and that any self-respecting mouse would be long gone in search of better provisions.

Using a little ingenuity, including her defrosting skills, she put together a rather tasty meal of grilled chicken breasts along with rice topped with onion and tomatoes. She even managed to fix Katy some chocolate milk by mixing half a dozen coffee creamers with water and some chocolate syrup she’d located in the pantry.

“Mmm,” Katy said. “This is good, Mommy.” She wiped her mouth with a paper napkin from the table dispenser. “My tummy’s full.” She rubbed her belly and yawned.

“Tired, sweetie?”

“Just a little. Does this place have a TV?”

“Sorry, no. But let’s have our baths and I’ll read a story to you.”

“Is there a bathtub?”

“Not a regular one, but there’s a deep sink in the kitchen that’s just about your size.”

Katy was a little wary about taking a bath in the kitchen sink, but she was a trouper and the two of them were soon giggling as Mary Beth helped her bathe and shampoo her hair. She wrapped Katy in a tablecloth from a stack of clean ones she’d located in a cupboard and nuzzled her daughter’s soft, sweet-scented neck. “All clean and smelling like honeysuckle.”

“All clean,” Katy echoed. “Are you going to take a bath in the sink?”

Mary Beth laughed. “I don’t think my cast and I would fit. I’ll make do with a basin bath in the Señoritas.”

“Mommy, what’s a señorita?”

“That’s the word written on one of the bathroom doors. It’s Spanish for young lady or for an unmarried woman.” She began brushing Katy’s fine blond hair.

“But you’re married.”

“Well, technically, I’m not. Daddy and I are divorced, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s in the pokey.”

“Where did you hear that word?”

“From Aunt Isabel. I heard you and her talking. Aunt Isabel said my daddy was a con and in the pokey.”

Isabel was Mary Beth’s best friend in Natchez. She had offered them her garage apartment to live in and the two of them had lived there comfortably, although Mary Beth had hated imposing on her friend. “Isabel shouldn’t have said that. That was very rude.”

“He isn’t in the pokey?”

“Pokey is a rude word. Daddy is in a correctional institution. He’s being punished for doing a bad thing.”

“Like when I get a time-out for spitting on Eric.”

“Yes, except that grown-up punishment is more serious. I think it might be best if we not mention where Daddy is to anybody. Okay?”

“Okay. What’s written on the other door?”

“Which door?”

“The other bathroom.”

“Oh. That one says Señors.”

“Is it for married ladies?”

Mary Beth chuckled. “No. That one is for men.”

“Then where do the married ladies go?”

“All the ladies and girls, unmarried or not, use Señoritas. You’re a pill, know that?” She kissed Katy’s forehead, then tickled her tummy until she giggled.

By the time Katy’s hair was dried and she was dressed in her pink-checked nightgown, Mary Beth was exhausted and her foot was aching. She would have loved to soak in a warm bubble bath, but if wishes were dollars, she’d be rich. Instead, she cleaned up as best she could in the ladies’ room and pulled on an old nightshirt.

She spread tablecloths over the benches of the booth Katy had selected. Thankfully, she’d brought along Katy’s favorite little quilt and pillow, so her daughter was snuggled securely with Penelope in her makeshift bed. On the table she had placed a small lamp that she’d found in a back closet.

Mary Beth shook the dust from a serape she took from the wall and rolled it into a pillow for herself. She wrapped it with a clean tablecloth and set aside a couple of the other cloths for her covers. After turning off the overhead lights, she picked up the book Katy had chosen and began to read by the glow of the table lamp.

Her daughter was so droopy-eyed that she fell asleep before Mary Beth got to page three of the storybook. Exhausted from the trip, she thought that she would fall asleep quickly, too, and twisted and turned until she was reasonably comfortable, given that the bench was a foot shorter than she was.

Sleep didn’t come.

Her foot throbbed like crazy. It needed some support.

Carefully she scooted from the booth, trying not to disturb her bedding. Naturally, the tablecloth and the serape followed her and fell on the floor. She shook them out and repositioned them.

Using only one crutch, she limped to a chair at a nearby table and quietly dragged it toward the booth.

It screeched.

She froze and glanced toward Katy. Her daughter was still.

Trying again, she wrestled the chair into position with minimal racket. Using another serape from the wall for padding, she covered the seat and climbed back into her makeshift bed. By that time, she’d broken into a clammy sweat and lay back exhausted.

The extension made things better. Not great, but better.

Events of the day replayed in her brain—especially her time with J.J. His masculine scent haunted her, the smell of his fresh-starched collar and the faint citrus of his shaving lotion. It stirred old memories of playing in his truck, of his warm embraces, of his kisses, of the feel of his hand on her skin. A shiver ran over her. Funny how evocative smells were, as if they were attached to memories with strong threads. There had always been a special magic between them that made her knees go weak and her brain shut down. One look from him, one simple touch, and she knew that the magic was still there.

She thought of him over the years, wondering how his life had gone. Strange that he’d never married—not that she planned to get involved with him again. He was the type who would march in and take over, and that was the very worst kind of man for her. Magic or not, this wasn’t the time to get involved with another man. She’d be smart to avoid him. Yet his eyes…

Stop thinking about him! She had to get some rest.

She was tired, so tired.

But her body buzzed like a high-wire and her brain felt as if hummingbirds were having a convention inside her head. She tried every relaxation technique she’d ever heard of. Nothing worked.

In the middle of her second set of deep-breathing exercises, she heard it. Little scurrying noises.

Her eyes popped wide-open. She would never get to sleep now.

J.J. COULDN’T SLEEP. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see Mary Beth’s face. By thinking about her and not paying attention to his business, he’d damn near been run over by a semi when he was herding Cletus’s cows off the highway. Even a couple of beers at the Rusty Bucket and a little flirting with Tami who’d served them hadn’t taken the edge off his preoccupation with Mary Beth—with remembering old times.

He turned over, punched his pillow and tried again.

It was no use.

Finally he gave it up, pulled on a pair of jeans and strolled out onto the second-floor balcony of his fourplex. He leaned against the railing and stared down at the full moon reflected in the swimming pool.

The image reminded him of Mary Beth’s shimmering hair. Even after all these years, he could remember the way her hair smelled. Like honeysuckle. And he could remember the taste of her lips and the softness of her skin.

He thought he’d gotten over her long ago. Obviously he hadn’t. One glance at her and all the fires sprang to life again. Guess people always remembered their first loves with tenderness. He certainly remembered his—he’d thought of Mary Beth often over the year. But seeing her get off that bus, he remembered why they weren’t together. She’d broken his heart.

He’d dated more women than he could keep up with after she’d dumped him and moved away. None of them could hold a candle to her. He rarely saw anyone for long. Just didn’t seem to find that spark with anybody. His mother had worried about him, and his brothers had called him a lovesick fool. Then a few years ago, he’d met somebody when he was visiting friends in Dallas. Tess had looked a little like Mary Beth, only taller. Smelled like her, too. They’d carried on hot and heavy for two years—even talked about getting married, but things hadn’t worked out. Tess wasn’t about to move to Naconiche and he hated the notion of living in Dallas. Tess found someone who loved city life, and she’d given him his walking papers.

He hadn’t been as broken up about it as he should have been.

Figuring that he ought to set his sights closer to home, J.J. had tried keeping company with a first-grade teacher at the local elementary school. Pretty young woman. Sweet natured. Crazy about Naconiche. His mama had loved Carol Ann. He’d dated her for over a year.

But the chemistry just wasn’t there. Maybe it was because she didn’t smell right. Anyhow, as gently as he could, he ended their relationship. She married the associate pastor of the Baptist church the following year, and they had moved to the Valley when he got a church of his own there a few months ago. Carol Ann was better off with the preacher.

Now Mary Beth was back. The spark was still there. And she still smelled like honeysuckle.

Damn.

One whiff, and he was like a bull after a cow at mating time.

Fool.

He wasn’t about to get mixed up with her again. He planned to give her a wide berth. She’d waltzed back into town, thinking she’d inherited a tidy sum. No way would she hang around when she discovered the truth. She’d be on the next bus out of town.

That little Katy was cute as a button. She should have been his.

But she wasn’t.

Hell, he had to get some sleep. He strode back inside, shucking his jeans on the way to bed. He had to get his mind off Mary Beth. Anything between them was over and done with a long time ago. His plan was to totally steer clear of her and do no more than tip his hat if they met on the street. No need to go asking for trouble.

THE NEXT MORNING, J.J. was on his third cup of coffee at the City Grill when Dwight Murdock took the stool beside him.

“Good morning,” the lawyer said.

J.J. merely grunted. He didn’t see a damned thing good about it. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours and he’d cut himself twice while he was shaving.

“I was hoping to find you here,” Dwight said. “I’m concerned about Mary Beth Parker and her little girl.”

“How so?”

“Well, their sleeping accommodations for one thing.”

“Coffee, Dwight?” Vera Whitehouse said, pouring a cup for him even as she asked.

Vera, who wouldn’t weigh ninety pounds dripping wet, had been the morning waitress at the Grill for as long as J.J. could remember. He’d heard once that she’d arrived on the bus forty-some odd years ago, saw a sign in the window advertising for help and stayed on. She knew everybody in town by their first name—and most of their business.

She warmed up J.J.’s cup. “You ready to order yet, J.J.?”

“In a minute. What do you mean about their sleeping accommodations, Dwight? Ouida’s is a nice place, isn’t it?”

“From what I understand,” the lawyer said.

“Top-notch,” Vera chimed in. “Why, you could eat your dinner off Ouida Tankard’s floors.”

“Problem is, they’re not staying at Ouida’s.”

“Then where are they staying?”

“At the restaurant.”

Puzzled by the answer, J.J. asked, “What restaurant?”

“The Tico Taco. The people who were leasing it moved out last week, left in the middle of the night owing two months rent. I tried to talk her out of staying there, but she was determined.”

J.J.’s boots hit the floor, and he swung around on his stool. “Do you mean to tell me that you went off and left them at that Mexican joint on the old highway?”

“She insisted. Reminded me that she owned it.”

Vera rolled her eyes and muttered, “Men! Leaving Mary Beth on crutches and with that baby to tend to. Why, I’d bet my bottom dollar the sorry bunch that ran the place didn’t even leave a scrap of food in the place.”

“Hell’s bells, Dwight!” J.J. slapped a couple of bills on the counter and stalked off, grabbing his hat from the rack on his way out the door.

“Wait! Wait, J.J.,” Vera yelled. She came running after him with three small cartons of milk cradled in one arm and a bag in the other. “Here’s some milk and doughnuts. You bring them to town for a decent meal. I’ll bet that poor lamb is starving.”

J.J. cursed Dwight Murdock all the way to the Tico Taco. For a smart lawyer, sometimes that old man didn’t have the brains God gave a billy goat.

Chapter Three

“Mommy, Mommy, are you awake?” Katy asked as she shook her.

Mary Beth opened one eye. “I am now.”

“I have to go to the Señoritas, and somebody is knocking on the front door.”

Groaning, Mary Beth struggled from the position she’d slept in. Her knee was stiff and her neck had a terrible crick in it. The banging on the door would wake the dead. How could she have slept through it? “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Katy began dancing from one foot to the other. “Mommy, I’ve gotta go. Now.”

Since Katy’s need seemed more critical, she took her to the washroom, splashing cold water on her own face while they were there. The racket was still going on when they came out.

Not taking time to locate a robe, she grabbed one of the tablecloths and wrapped it around her, sarong style. But the blasted thing fell off before she got to the door, tangling around one of her crutches as she darned near went sprawling.

“Hold your horses!” she yelled. “I’m coming as fast as I can.” She unlocked the shaded front door and opened it a crack. There stood J. J. Outlaw breathing fire.

“Dammit, have you lost your cotton-pickin’ mind?” he shouted.

She felt as if he’d smacked her in the face with a bucket of slop. “I don’t think so,” she said in a tone that would have frozen a rump roast. “I’ve lost just about everything else, but my mind seems intact, thank you very much.” She slammed the door and turned the dead bolt.

He started knocking again. “Mary Beth, let me in.”

“Eat dirt.”

“Mommy, who’s that outside?”

“That’s Sheriff J.J., sweetie.”

“Aren’t you going to let him in?”

“No. He said a rude word. Besides, I’m still in my nightshirt. How about we get dressed and I’ll fix breakfast.”

“He’s making an awful lot of noise.”

“I know. Just ignore him, and he’ll go away. Would you like an omelette?”

“With cheese?”

“Absolutely.”

“And orange juice?”

“We don’t have any orange juice, honey, but I can make you some more chocolate milk. Will that be okay?”

Katy nodded, then glanced anxiously at the front door. “I think we should let Sheriff J.J. in. He sounds mad. He might put us in the pokey.”

“Not likely. And don’t say pokey. Tell you what, let me get my clothes and go to the washroom, then you can let him in. Okay?”

Katy looked relieved. “Okay.”

Mary Beth grabbed a few things and hobbled away. She hurriedly brushed her hair and her teeth and dressed in a blue T-shirt dress and one sneaker. She even took time to dab on a bit of blush and some lipstick—though she couldn’t imagine why. It wasn’t as if she cared how J.J. saw her.

She glared at her reflection. You are the worst liar in seven states. Her heart was practically doing a tap dance at the notion of seeing J.J.

When Mary Beth came out, Katy was sitting on the bar that ran along the wall separating the dining area from the kitchen. J.J. stood beside her, one boot heel hooked over the bar rail. Katy was eating a doughnut, and J.J. was grinning at the little scamp.

“Hi, Mommy. Sheriff J.J. brought us some doughnuts. They’re good. Want one?”

“I thought we were going to have a cheese omelette.”

Katy looked sheepish. “I forgot.”

“Just one doughnut, young lady. No more. You shouldn’t have too many sweets.”

“Sorry about that,” J.J. said. “Vera from down at the City Grill sent them. And some milk. She was afraid you didn’t have anything to eat. Tell the truth, so was I.”

“The former tenants must have decided that they didn’t have room to take both booze and food when they hit the road. Luckily, they cleaned out the bar, except for a few liqueurs, and left the food. The menu might be a bit limited, but we have plenty to eat.”

“What’s booze?” Katy asked.

“Grown-up drinks,” Mary Beth said.

“Like coffee?”

“No, stronger than coffee. Speaking of coffee, J.J., do you know how to work that coffee machine? I’d love a cup. I was too tired to figure it out last night. Have you had breakfast?”

“No. I thought I’d take you to the City Grill for a bite.”

“Thanks, but I’ll fix that omelette I was planning.” She turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Still think your mommy is upset with me?” J.J. asked.

Mary Beth heard Katy whisper, “I don’t know, but you should ’pologize for saying a rude word. I always have to ’pologize.”

In the kitchen, she fired up the monster of a stove and laid out eggs, cream and cheese. In no time, she cooked a perfect large cheese omelette and divided it among three plates, giving a small portion to Katy.

“Need some help?” J.J. asked behind her.

“Yes, thanks. Carrying things is a problem with crutches.” She put the plates and forks on a tray, along with mugs for coffee, and he carried it to a table.

He glanced at the remnants of their bedding. “That where you slept last night?”

“Yes. It was quite comfortable.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll bet.” He got a booster seat for Katy from a spot near the cash register and lifted her into her place at the table. He brought over a steaming pot of coffee and poured mugs for Mary Beth and himself. He also brought a small carton of milk and a straw for Katy.

“Thanks,” she told him.

“No problem. And I’d like to apologize for saying a rude word earlier.”

“Apology accepted.”

J.J. glanced at Katy and winked. She giggled.

After he’d taken a couple of bites, he said, “This is really good.”

“Thanks. Sorry I can’t offer toast or croissants, we’re fresh out.”

“We don’t have any orange juice either,” Katy said. When Mary Beth frowned slightly at her, she added, “But this milk is very good, Sheriff J.J. And Mommy made chocolate milk for me last night.”

J.J. didn’t say much until Katy finished eating and left to find a puzzle in her bag of toys. Then he said, “Mary Beth, I hope you’re not planning to spend another night in this place.”

“Actually, I’m planning on spending several. For the time being, this is our home.”

“Hell’s bells, Mary Beth, you can’t—”

“J.J., don’t tell me I can’t. I own this property and I don’t have any other options but to stay here. My family is all gone, I’m just about broke, and until I get my foot out of this cast, I can’t work. We’re staying here,” she said firmly. “It’s mine and it’s free.”

“But you have friends in town, and I’ll bet that my brother—”

“No, J.J. Until I can stand on my own two feet again, we’re staying here, and that’s final. There’s plenty of food in the freezer, and we have utilities for another couple of weeks.”

“Mary Beth, that doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“It does to me. The matter isn’t open for discussion.”

“Dwight said you were hidebound and determined.”

“He’s right.”

“How long before your cast comes off?”

“About another week.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, I guess staying here for a week won’t hurt. Do you need any groceries or anything?”

“There’s quite a bit of food here, but I would appreciate it if you could pick up some milk and bread and eggs for me. And a jar of peanut butter. Katy adores peanut butter.”

“Anything else?”

“No, those are the essentials. Except for a mousetrap.”

“Got mice?”

“I don’t know, but I heard some suspicious sounds last night.”

J.J. reared back in his chair. “Might be rats instead of mice. Big ones. You might want to rethink staying here.” His expression was just short of smug.

She fought a shudder. “Uh-uh. Won’t work. I’m not going to be chased away by rats—either the two-legged or four-legged variety. Just get a bigger trap. Let me get my purse.”

“I’ll spring for the stuff,” he said gruffly.

“I’m not ready to accept charity.”

“Don’t go getting your nose all out of joint. I’m just being neighborly. That’s the way we do things around here in case you’ve forgotten.”

A sudden lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. “I haven’t forgotten,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Their eyes met for a moment, then he glanced away and rose quickly, clearing his throat. “Thanks for the omelette. I’d better get a move on. Got work to do.”

He grabbed his hat and was gone before she could get to her purse. J.J. was a truly nice man. And still sexier than buttered sin. If all those years ago, he hadn’t—

She sighed.

But he had and that was that. She called Katy to help her take the dishes to the kitchen.

“I like Sheriff J.J.,” Katy said as Mary Beth loaded the dishwasher. “He’s nice.”

“Yes, he’s very nice.”

“He said he had a niece and a few about my age that I could play with sometime. What’s a niece and a few, Mommy?”

Mary Beth smiled. “I think he meant a niece and a nephew. The children of a person’s brothers and sisters are called nieces for girls and nephews for boys. They must be his brother Frank’s children.”

“Can we play today?”

“Maybe not today, but soon.”

“We don’t have any nieces and nephews of our own, do we?”

“Nope, sweetie, sorry. I don’t have any brothers and sisters, so I don’t have any nieces or nephews, and you don’t have any aunts or uncles on my side of the family.”

“I have an aunt. Aunt Isabel.”

“Aunt Isabel is just a very good friend in Natchez. She’s like an honorary aunt.”

“Oh. Is Aunt Katherine my ornery aunt, too?”

Mary Beth was tempted to say that Katherine was as ornery as they came, but instead she simply said, “No, Aunt Katherine is your daddy’s sister, so she’s a real aunt and you’re her niece.”

“I don’t think Aunt Katherine likes me.”

“Do you remember Aunt Katherine? You’ve only seen her once, and that was a long time ago.”

“She had a red mouth and looked mean at me.”

Yep, that was Katherine, the witch. Brad’s only sister had breezed into town, hired a lawyer for him, then breezed back to the social scene in Philadelphia. She had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to see or hear of any of them again. The whole sordid affair—embezzlement, jail, scandal—was dreadfully embarrassing to her. It had been embarrassing for Mary Beth, as well, but she hadn’t had the luxury of breezing off anywhere.

“Mommy, can I have another doughnut?”

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

There was another rapping at the front door followed by a feminine “Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?”

Now who could that be? Mary Beth wondered as she dried her hands and made her way to the dining area.

Two older women stood there with foil-covered dishes. They looked familiar, but—She suddenly remembered one of them. “Mrs. Carlton?”

Mrs. Carlton, her next-door neighbor from childhood, beamed. “Yes. And it’s so good to see you again, Mary Beth. You’ve grown into a lovely woman.” She hugged Mary Beth with her free hand. “Your mother would be so proud of you. This is my sister Opal McMullen. She moved here six years ago when her husband died. We’ve brought you a little something—homemade rolls and a squash casserole. I know how you used to love my homemade rolls, and I had some in the freezer. Found a squash casserole in there, too. Made just last week, and Opal brought a pint of her strawberry preserves. Nobody makes strawberry preserves like Opal.”

The women set the food on the bar and chatted a few minutes after oohing and aahing over Katy. Soon another car pulled up with another of her family’s former neighbors, bearing a ham and two quilts. Then came the minister’s wife with potato salad and a pillow with a lace-edged pillowcase. Mary Beth was excited to see her old friends and was warmed by their hometown hospitality. She hugged them all and gushed her thanks and reminisced with those who called.

When a very pregnant Dixie Anderson, an old and dear friend from high school, showed up at the door, Mary Beth let out a whoop. Dixie’s dark hair was cropped short instead of being long and lush, and her face was rounder, but Mary Beth would have known her anywhere.

“Dixie Anderson!” she squealed as they hugged. “How wonderful to see you!”

“It’s not Anderson anymore. Russo now. I married Jack Russo the year after we graduated. Golly, it’s good to see you, too. When I heard you were in town, I parked my two-year-old in mother’s day out, and here I am. I brought you some chocolate-chip cookies. My brood eats them by the bushel.” She set the box on the bar. “Looks like you’ve already made a haul. I expect you’ll be up to your a-double-s in cakes and casseroles before nightfall. Everybody was tickled to death to hear you were back in town. Ellen has an appointment, but she’ll be over as soon as she can shake free.”

Dixie hugged her again. “Golly, it’s good to see you. Nobody had heard a thing from you after we read that your mother and daddy had died in that plane crash a few years back. We were sorry to hear about that. And this must be your daughter,” she said, smiling at Katy who was hiding behind Mary Beth. “She’s the image of you when you were that age.”

Mary Beth laughed. “I can’t even remember that far back. Yes, this is Katy. She’s not usually shy. I think she’s overwhelmed with all the folks who have dropped by.” She coaxed Katy from her hiding place. “Katy, this lady is Dixie Russo. She was one of my very good friends when I used to live here. We were cheerleaders together.”

“Hello, Katy. I brought a present for you.” She reached into her tote bag and brought out a coloring book, crayons and a package of stickers.

Katy’s eyes lit up. “Thank you very much.”

Dixie laughed in the wonderful rich way that Mary Beth remembered. “You’re very welcome. You’re much more polite than my herd.”

“How many children do you have?” Mary Beth asked.

Dixie rubbed her stomach. “This one makes six.”

“Six? Good heavens, how do you manage?”

“Some days I wonder that myself.”

Mary Beth settled Katy at a table and offered Dixie a cup of coffee. No sooner had they gotten settled and started to catch up on news of the town than a pickup truck drove up. Wes Outlaw, the former sheriff, got out carrying two grocery bags. A gray-haired version of J.J., he’d gained a thickness around his belt that showed his enjoyment of Nonie’s cooking. His deeply lined face was that of a man who had spent too many days in the Texas sun.

“Morning, ladies.” He smiled broadly. “Mary Beth, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Welcome home. I’ve come with milk and bread and eggs and peanut butter. Plus a few other items that Nonie added to the list. Keep your seat. I’ll put the stuff in the kitchen and set the traps.”

“What traps?” Dixie asked.

“Don’t ask,” Mary Beth said. “Sheriff Wes, it’s so wonderful to see you. Do I get a hug?”

“You betcha. Let me take care of this first.”

When he left for the kitchen, Mary Beth turned to Dixie. “Tell me about your family.”

Dixie didn’t need much coaxing. She obviously loved her husband and kids. Jack Russo owned an insurance company and was on the school board, and the Russo brood, except for the two-year-old, were all in elementary school. “Two of mine are the same age as Ellen’s children. She’s divorced, you know. And selling real estate. Doing right well.”

“No, I didn’t know. I’ve lost touch with everyone.”

“Well, you’re back home now, and that’s all that matters. I gather that you’re divorced, too.”

“Yes,” she said simply. Even though Mary Beth and Dixie and Ellen had been very close friends who told each other everything, she didn’t want to relate all the grisly details of her life with Brad.

When Sheriff Wes—Mary Beth couldn’t bring herself to call him anything else—rejoined them, he collected his hug and took a cup of the coffee she offered, along with a cookie, and reminisced for half an hour or so. After another cookie, he stood. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have another couple of pickups and deliveries to make. I’ll see you later.”

Ellen rushed in as he was on the way out. “Mary Beth!” she squealed, her arms open wide. “Puddin’, I can’t believe it’s you!”

When Ellen grabbed her, Mary Beth’s tears began to flow. She’d kept herself together until now, but she couldn’t keep it up any longer. She was blubbering like a baby and laughing at the same time. Maybe it was hearing that old nickname or seeing Ellen and Dixie again, or maybe she was crying because she’d held back her tears as long as she could, but she couldn’t stop.

She and Ellen held each other for a long time.

“God, it’s good to see you, Mary Beth. You look fabulous! I bet you haven’t gained a pound since high school, and I’ve put on at least ten.”

Dixie snorted.

“Oh, all right,” Ellen said. “Twenty. And if I don’t stop squalling, I’ll look like a raccoon.” She began fishing in her purse.

“Too late, Tammy Faye,” Dixie said, plucking several paper napkins from the dispenser on the table and passing them around. “The mascara has run amok.”

“You don’t look like a raccoon,” Mary Beth said, dabbing her eyes and blowing her nose. “You look gorgeous, as always.”

Ellen had always been a beauty. She had put on a bit of weight and her hair was blonder and her makeup thicker, but she was still a stunning woman in her smart red suit and high heels.

It was like old-home week. They fell into conversation as if they’d talked only yesterday. How good it felt to see her old friends, to feel as if she belonged again.

They both stayed for lunch, put together from her new stores of food, then Dixie had to leave. “I’ll drop by tomorrow,” she promised.

Ellen lingered. “I hate to see you staying here, Mary Beth. You’re welcome to stay with me. My couch makes into a bed, and you and Katy—”

“No, but thanks. We’ll be okay here until I can figure out something. I was hoping that the property would be income-producing, but as you can see…” She fluttered her hand.

“I know. The old motel is a mess. It’s been listed with my company for ages, and there hasn’t been a nibble. And the people who were leasing the Tico Taco just couldn’t make a go of it. Too much competition. Another Mexican restaurant on the new highway just opened last month, and there was already one next to Bullock’s Supermarket on Second Street.”

Mary Beth sighed. “That’s a shame. Well, maybe some other sort of restaurant might consider leasing the place. It seems to be in pretty good shape.”

Ellen took her hand. “Don’t count on it, Puddin’. The market is pretty well saturated and the location isn’t the best. I’ve gotta run. I have an appointment to show a house, but we’ll think of something.” She hugged her again and wiggled her fingers as she hurried out the door.

Mary Beth didn’t have much time to think about anything for the steady parade of old friends who stopped by. None of them came empty-handed. She had enough homemade pickles and pies and casseroles to last for months. And her former Sunday-school teacher, bless her heart, showed up with two roll-away beds.

“Mommy,” Katy had asked, “is it Christmas already?”

“No, sweetie. Christmas isn’t for a long time. Why do you ask?”

“’Cause so many nice people brought presents to us.”

“It is like Christmas, isn’t it?” Mary Beth smiled and hugged her daughter. “And these very nice people are old friends from when I was growing up here. It’s a custom to bring food and gifts if someone is sick or if there’s a funeral or if someone is new to town. This is their way of being neighborly, of welcoming us to Naconiche.” And she had felt welcomed. These were old friends, caring people holding open their arms to her. Their offerings hadn’t felt like charity at all. It was simply small-town neighborliness, and she’d love being able to spend a bit of time with every one of them and renew old ties. She kissed the top of Katy’s head. “I feel very welcome, don’t you?”

Katy nodded. “I like it here. Are we going to stay?”

“I think so. At least for a while. Would you like that? You don’t mind living in a restaurant?”

“It’s kind of funny, but remember what you always say?”

“What’s that?”

“We can think of it as a ’venture.”

Mary Beth laughed and hugged her again. “Yes, it’s really an adventure. Dixie tells me that there’s a preschool at the church. How about we get you enrolled so you can have some children to play with.”

Katy’s eyes lit up. “When? Now?”

“I’ll call tomorrow.”

Her daughter threw her arms around Mary Beth. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, Katy.”

THAT EVENING after a sumptuous dinner, Mary Beth sat on a bench out front of the restaurant and watched Katy chase lightning bugs.

“I got another one, Mommy!”

“Wonderful! Bring it here and put it in the jar.” She opened the top, and Katy dropped the glowing insect inside.

“I’ll get some more,” Katy said, bounding off. “This is fun.”

“Catch one more, then it’s time to get ready for bed.”

Mary Beth smiled, love welling up as she watched her daughter run off with endless energy. For the first time since she’d learned about Brad’s awful crime, she began to feel at peace. And hopeful. Coming here had been good. Getting back to her roots and being among people who cared for her was renewing her strength. This old place might not be much, but it was hers, and somehow she would make something of it—and of herself. For so long it seemed that things had gone from bad to worse, one catastrophe after another. Now, deep inside, she sensed that she’d turned a corner and her life was going to turn around.

That was before the first clap of thunder.

And before the rain.

Chapter Four

The first drop hit her on the forehead, the second on the nose. Mary Beth shot up and bolted from her bed.

She immediately stumbled and went sprawling.

She’d forgotten the blasted cast. Muttering a few choice words, she shook herself awake. A storm rattled the windows, and a steady drip of water plopped on her pillow.

After pulling her bed to a safe spot, she checked on Katy, who was fast asleep and dry. Grabbing her crutches, she hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a stockpot. There was a steady leak over the stove. She shoved another pot under that drip, left one crutch behind and hobbled back to the leak as quickly as she could. Quietly she set the pot on the floor of the nook she’d made into their bedroom. The tinny ping-ping-ping of the drops against the aluminum seemed awfully loud, but Katy didn’t stir.

Not wanting to disturb Katy with a bright light, she made her way around the place using only the illumination from their small lamp, the neon sign behind the bar and the light that spilled from the kitchen. She located another three leaks in the restaurant: one in the men’s room and two others in the dining area. When she had placed containers under all the places that dripped, she tossed her soaked pillow on a table and fell back into bed sweating from the effort.

Rain came down in torrents, beating against the windows, the wind howling as if in rage. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked, boomed and rolled. The storm sounded very close. She counted between the lightning flashes and the thunderclaps, trying to judge how far away the center of the storm was. It was close.

Another deafening crack and boom shook the walls.

The lights went out. She slapped her hand against her chest, trying to contain her runaway heart.

Water dripping into the pots sounded like a discordant steel-drum band. Windows rattled with the wind and rain pelted the panes.

Except for an occasional flash from outside, everything was dark as a tomb. The air grew heavy and she had a hard time breathing.

She hated storms.

And the dark.

Then, between the steady plop-plop-plop, she heard a rustling, scurrying sound.

Her heart almost stopped.

She wanted to scream bloody murder and run somewhere, anywhere. Instead she pulled the quilt over her head and prayed, filling the time until morning.

“MOMMY, MOMMY, WAKE UP.”

Mary Beth opened a bleary eye as Katy shook her. She must have dropped off to sleep sometime after the storm passed.

“Are you awake? Sheriff J.J. is here.”

“Where?” she asked, throwing an arm over her eyes to avoid the morning light.

“Here,” J.J.’s deep voice answered from the foot of her bed.

She grabbed for the quilt and raised herself up on her elbows. There he stood, hat shoved back and thumbs hooked over the front of his gun belt.

“How did you get in?” she asked.

“The usual way. I knocked. Katy opened the door. Here I am. We had a heck of a storm last night. Trees down everywhere. I was just checking to see if you were okay, and if your power was on. Some areas lost electricity for a few hours.”

She glanced at the neon sign behind the bar. It hummed and glowed its usual red. “It was off for a while, but the power seems to be back on now.”

He stared pointedly at the huge pot on the floor. It was nearly full of water. “Looks like you had a leak.”

“I had several. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I’ve had coffee, thank you. I need to see about some other folks in the county. Want me to empty those pots for you?”

“I can manage, thank you.”

He snorted. “Like hell you can. That one alone must weigh thirty pounds.”

“Sheriff J.J. said an ugly word,” Katy whispered loudly.

“I noticed.”

“Sorry about that. I can see I need to clean up my language. Please accept my most profound apologies, ladies.” He took off his hat and swept a low bow.

Mary Beth rolled her eyes while Katy giggled.

He hefted the big stockpot near Mary Beth’s bed and strode toward the kitchen. In a minute, he returned to take the other containers to the kitchen. She merely sat in bed with the quilt wrapped around her and watched.

His task finished, he came to the foot of her bed. “Need anything else?”

“No, I can manage, but thank you very much,” she said stiffly.

“You’ve got a rat in one of your traps.”

Her stomach turned over.

He tipped his hat. “Ladies, I’ll be going now.”

Darn his hide if he didn’t turn and sashay toward the door with that loose-hipped walk of his. “J.J.!”

He turned and gave her an innocent “Yes?”

“Would, uh—would you mind disposing of the—uh—uh—”

“Rat?”

“Yes, please.”

He grinned. “Pretty please with sugar on it?”

She ground her teeth. “Yes.”

“Sure.”

He started to the kitchen, and Katy danced after him. “Could I see the rat? Is it dead?”

“Gruesome child,” Mary Beth mumbled, shuddering.

She listened to Katy’s childish chatter interspersed with J.J.’s deeper voice and heard the back door open and close. In a few minutes she heard them return.

Katy, still in her nightie and now with muddy feet, galloped in, grinning from ear to ear. “Mommy, we buried that scalawag. And we said some words over him, didn’t we, Sheriff J.J.?”

A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “That we did, Katy. Gave him a right nice send-off.” He tipped his hat again. “I’ll be moving along.”

Mary Beth watched J.J. go, torn between wanting to throw her sneaker at him and wanting to throw herself at him. Every time she was around him, she became more and more aware of his blatant masculinity. It radiated from him. She sighed. Despite her efforts to ignore the obvious, she had to admit that J. J. Outlaw was one sexy guy. Maybe it was because she’d been celibate for so long, but hadn’t she found herself thinking positively naughty thoughts about him since she’d been back in town? He’d always been good-looking, but the years had added a layer of confidence and experience that made him even more appealing. If only—

She pushed the thought aside and rose from her bed. “If only” never changed anything. The past was past. She had to start thinking about today. And tomorrow. Soon utility bills would come due on this place, and bills had to be paid. She needed to come up with a plan. But first she needed to get dressed and fix breakfast.

Shoving thoughts of J.J. to the back of her brain, she dressed herself and Katy and made a scrumptious meal from the bounty her neighbors had graciously provided.

Mary Beth and Katy had barely finished eating when there was a knock on the front door.

“The casserole parade must be beginning,” she said to Katy.

“What’s a casserole parade? Is it like when you were queen?”

“No. I was just teasing, sweetie.” She kissed the top of Katy’s head and went to the front door.

A young man in a T-shirt and jeans stood there. He didn’t look to be more than eighteen or so. Blond with big brown eyes, he had a killer smile that must have set six counties of teenage girls’ hearts aflutter.

“Mornin’, ma’am,” he said, tugging at the bill of his red ball cap. “I’m Dean Gaskamp. Wally Gaskamp from Wally’s Feeds is my daddy.”

“Yes?”

“I’ve come to fix your roof.”

“My roof? But I can’t afford—”

“Oh, there’s no charge, ma’am. I mean, I’m a roofer by trade, so I know what I’m doing, but working on yours is part of my community-service hours. If you don’t mind, I’ll just get to work.”

“Community service?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did J.J. think up this community-service business and send you out here?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. It was his brother Frank—Judge Outlaw, I mean—who thought it up. J.J.—I mean Sheriff Outlaw—called and told me to add you to my list. I’ll get on with it. With the storm and all, a bunch of folks are needing some help. I’ll get in a lot of my hours this weekend.” He tipped his cap, turned around and started unloading a ladder from the back of his truck.

In no time, Dean was hammering on the roof.

Mary Beth had barely cleaned up the kitchen when the casserole parade did indeed begin again. It seemed as if everybody in Naconiche dropped by—many, she suspected, out of simple curiosity, but nobody arrived empty-handed. One kind soul—an old classmate—even brought a small television set and a VCR, insisting that they were extras “just sitting around and gathering dust.” Another brought a stack of children’s videos with the explanation that her children had outgrown them. Katy was delighted. She insisted on watching Snow White immediately. Mary Beth fixed her a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich to eat while she watched the movie.

Dixie dropped by for lunch, bearing a box of toys and games for Katy. “My girls don’t play with these anymore,” she said, “and I need the room if you don’t mind hand-me-downs.”

“I don’t mind at all. We had to leave many of our things behind with a friend in Natchez. Katy’s a trouper, but things have been difficult for her. At least where I worked, she had children to play with.”

“Where did you work?”

“At a health club. I was an aerobics instructor, and Katy stayed in the nursery there while I taught my classes.”

“An aerobics instructor! God knows I need one—or will when Robert here is born.” She patted her belly.

“What will you need?” Ellen said as she came in the front door.

“An aerobics instructor,” Dixie said. “Did you know that Mary Beth taught aerobics in Natchez?”

“If she mentioned it, I conveniently ignored it,” Ellen said, grabbing a plate and filling it from among the goodies lining the bar. “I see Mabel Fortney has been here. Tomato aspic with lima beans. She brings it to every event and it’s ghastly.” She joined her friends at the table. “You do have some tasty items here, though. I swear, I wish there were a decent place for a woman to have lunch around here. I think I gained all my weight just eating hamburgers at the Burger Barn and chicken-fried steak at the Grill. Even their blue-plate specials are loaded with stuff better suited to loggers. But it’s either that or Mexican food, and I can handle just so many taco salads or enchilada dinners.”

“Lord, I hear that,” Dixie said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if this town had a tearoom like the one in Travis Lake?” Travis Lake was a larger town twenty-five miles away in the next county.

“Mmm-hmm,” Ellen said. Then she stopped and glanced from Dixie to Mary Beth.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Dixie asked.

Ellen nodded. “Mary Beth, what kind of a cook are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I’m not bad. But I don’t know if I could run a tearoom if that’s what you have in mind.”

“Now, don’t dismiss the notion until we’ve had a chance to talk about it some,” Ellen said. “I never thought that I could sell real estate either, but I’m kicking butt these days.” She grinned. “Let’s do some brainstorming.”

For the next hour or so, they came up with every conceivable crackpot scheme they could think of, laughing wildly as they considered every option from turning the Tico Taco into a cathouse with Mary Beth as madam to refurbishing The Twilight Inn as a home for aging aerobics instructors or renting it out as a haunted house on Halloween.

Actually, some of their ideas weren’t half-bad.

“You know,” Dixie said, “Naconiche really does need a health club—or at least a place where people could take some exercise classes.”

“I don’t think the town could support a health club,” Ellen said. “Remember when JoNell Davis tried it several years ago? All that equipment—and she lost her shirt. But really, I’ll bet there would be some interest in a few classes. Maybe aerobics for some of us and stretching classes for seniors. Dr. Kelly is always trying to get my mom to do some stretching for her arthritis.”

“Who’s Dr. Kelly?” Mary Beth asked, reaching for another chocolate-chip cookie. “I don’t remember him.”

“Her. Dr. Kelly Martin. She came here a couple of years ago to take over Dr. Bridges’s practice when he retired. She’s about our age. I really like her.”

They batted around several other plans, trying to think of ways to use Mary Beth’s talents and the facilities available.

That was how the germ of an idea for The Twilight Tearoom was born. Ellen and Dixie were thrilled to hear that Mary Beth had been a member of the Junior League and had worked in its tearoom before she and Brad had split.

“I had to drop out after the divorce,” Mary Beth told them. “I couldn’t afford to keep up with my more affluent friends.” She didn’t mention that she was too humiliated to show her face, nor did she mention that Brad was a criminal, locked up in prison. “But I did learn how to pour tea and which fork goes where and how to make chicken crepes to die for. I learned to make the crepes and several other fancy dishes when a group of us took lessons from a French chef. And we used to serve as hostesses when some of the local charity events sponsored luncheons at the league building.”

“I can’t believe it,” Ellen said. “This is perfect. The garden club is looking for a place to have their big luncheon, and I heard Annie Schultz say that the hospital auxiliary needs somewhere, too. The VFW hall just doesn’t have much ambience. Why couldn’t they meet here?”

Mary Beth glanced around at the garish walls, the scarred tables and the tattered piñatas. “Here? You’ve got to be kidding. This place is a far cry from the Junior League Tearoom. I’ll bet it doesn’t have as much ambience as the VFW hall.”

“A coat of paint would do wonders,” Dixie said.

“True,” Ellen agreed. “Take all the Mexican stuff down and add some pretty tablecloths and flowers. The place has some possibilities. And if you opened it just for lunch or for special parties, you’d still have time to spend with Katy. Why, she’ll be in kindergarten in the fall, and you could teach some aerobics here in the mornings. Just move the tables aside. How about it, Puddin’?”

Mary Beth shrugged. “I’ll have to give it some thought, but it has some possibilities. I might even be able to earn enough to slowly restore the motel. I could either run it or sell it.”

“Good idea,” Ellen said. “For sure nobody’s going to buy it as it is.” She glanced at her watch and stood. “Gotta run. I have a closing in a few minutes. We’ll chew all this around more later.”

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