Coming Home (28 page)

“Howdy, Miss Roxanne. How're you doing?” he asked in his soft voice. He was a tall man, thin as a rail and bald as a cue ball. He was also one of the kindest, gentlest men Roxanne had ever known. He glanced into her cart and, seeing the neck bones, murmured, “Going to use them for a broth base?”

“Uh, no,” she mumbled. “I got them for some dogs.”

He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “Well, if that's the case, let me go in back and bring you out some nice knucklebones—dogs really love 'em.”

A few minutes later, two gargantuan knucklebones resting in her cart, a small Tootsie Roll having mysteriously appeared in her hand, she moved on, smiling as she did so. Passing the mirrored window she knew opened to the store's tiny cramped office, she tapped on it. A second later M.J.'s face popped into view. Seeing who it was, she smiled.

“Hi,” M.J. said. “How's it going?”

“Fine,” Roxanne replied. “I didn't mean to interrupt you, I just wanted to tell you what a great job you've done with the market. It's certainly changed in twenty years.” She waved a hand. “New, bigger building. More freezer cases. Lots of things.”

M.J. beamed. “Thank you! Most of the time all I hear is complaints. It's wonderful to receive a compliment.”

A gorgeous redhead squeezed next to M.J. in the small opening. “Hello, Roxanne,” Pagan said shyly.

“Don't tell me,” Roxanne said with a laugh, “she dragooned you into helping her with the computer.”

“Guilty,” replied M.J., her brown eyes dancing. “And man is she
good!
I've already told her that she can't go back to New Orleans—I'm going to chain her to the computer and keep her here forever.”

The three women chatted for several moments, just innocuous conversation, until M.J. asked, “Have you heard any rumors about Nick yet?”

A pang of guilt struck Roxanne. Nick and his relationship to Shelly had been the last thing on her mind the past few days. “Er, no,” she admitted. “Is the news all over town?”

M.J. nodded. “You bet. Sloan told your parents New Year's Day, as well as Cleo, Mingo, Danny, and Bobba. Hank and Megan know too. Shelly asked Hank not to be the one to introduce the topic at the restaurant, just for him to make certain that when everyone else is gossiping about it that the story stays straight. Hank loves it. He says there's half a dozen blowhards that he's wanted to correct for years. Says he's really going to enjoy pinning their ears back. I told most of my family.” She grinned. “And you know how my grandpa loves to talk—he had coffee at The Oak Valley Inn the other morning with his group of cronies, so you know that the news has traveled far and wide by now.”

“That's great?” Roxanne said. “How're the reactions going?”

“Beyond shock, just about everyone is falling in line. Sloan said your folks were taken aback, but with Shelly being their daughter-in-law, they have to support her—even if your dad would like to do differently just on principle. Some of the older folks, like Cleo and Judge Delaney, admitted that they always sort of suspected something like that. All in all, I think Shelly's plan is working.” M.J. made a face. “Of course, there's always going to be mean-spirited and petty people who'll give Nick a hard time. And I worry about Maria. She's so scared and embarrassed. It can't be easy knowing that everyone is looking at you and gossiping. But we're all rallying around her and considering that the people behind her represent some of the oldest and most respected families in the valley, I think we'll be able to keep her from taking a drubbing from the more vicious tongues. Judge Delaney told Mingo to let him know if he needs to drop a warning in anyone's ear.”

Mingo and Jeb's father was a retired Superior Court Judge for the county and though he'd not sat on the bench for ten years or more, he was still called “Judge.” His word was law in the valley—and having him drop a warning in your ear was tantamount to an order. Few disobeyed.

Another stab of guilt went through Roxanne. Jeb was supposed to have told his parents, not left it to Mingo. She fiddled with the handle of her cart. “It's good that Mingo told the Judge right away.”

Tongue in cheek, M.J. said, “Speaking of Mingo—he was in earlier today and says that his big brother has been curiously absent from home ever since New Year's. Even took his dogs with him.” Innocently she asked, “You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Roxanne had forgotten how swiftly news spread in the valley. Oh, damn. Did everyone know that Jeb had spent the last two nights at her house? She suddenly felt very young and vulnerable. As quickly as that feeling had come, she shook it off with a toss of her head. What did it matter? Hadn't her love life been splashed all over the television screen and
The Enquirer
for years? She should be used to it by now. Besides, she was a big girl now, a grown woman, answerable to no one. There was no reason why she couldn't have a gentleman stay the night … or two, without turning it into a big deal. Except, she admitted, biting her lip, this was Oak Valley … not New York. She knew she was being silly, overreacting even. Men and women had sex in Oak Valley just as they did anywhere else, and men and women stayed overnight with each other here just as they did other places. So what was the problem? The problem was that this was home, these people had known her since she was an infant, and Oak Valley was definitely
not
New York. To her amazement, she felt two spots of color burn in her cheeks. Flustered, she muttered, “Uh, er, is that so?”

“That's what I heard,” M.J. said, grinning at Roxanne's discomfiture. Sloan had mentioned that Roxanne hadn't been seen or heard from either and it didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

Fighting to regain her composure, Roxanne shrugged. “Detective Delaney is a big boy. I'm sure he'll turn up. Somewhere.”

“Yeah, I'll just bet he will,” murmured M.J., her pansy-brown eyes dancing.

Trying to divert M.J. Roxanne smiled at Pagan and asked, “Now that you've been here a few days, how are you liking it?”

Pagan grinned. “It's been great! Everyone is so friendl?”—she winked?”especially the men, and the valley is beautiful. Shelly says now's not the best time to see it, that if you see it in the spring, it'll capture your heart forever. I think the whole valley is just gorgeous. So different from Louisiana—I love the nip in the air.”
“So how long are you staying? Roman seemed vague on that the other night.”

Pagan looked wry. “I don't know. The date has been sort of left open. If Roman had his way, I think he'd move here permanently, but the family relies on him to run the agricultural part of Granger Industries and Roman has this huge sense of responsibility, even though one of my other brothers, Tom or Noble, would take on that part of the company without complaint.” She made a face. “He doesn't feel it's fair to ask them to take on any more than they already have. Besides, like he said, he's got really great people to run everything while he's gone and with E-mail, fax, and computers, there is a bunch of stuff he can do from here, but he admitted it's not the same as being there. So when guilty conscience strikes, we'll probably go home. I'm hoping we'll be able to stay for at least a couple weeks.” She grinned. “And if his conscience strikes too soon, I may just stay by myself—although I'd have to find someplace else to stay—don't know how it would look with Nick and me living in that house together by ourselves—right now, Nick's got enough on his plate.”

The three women talked for several more minutes and then Roxanne walked to the checkout counter.

Debbie Smith, Tom's wife of more than forty years, was standing in her usual place behind the register. She had been McGuire's first full-time employee and remembered the days when the store had been a little hole-in-the-wall and only a meat market. With her steel-gray hair and round little form, she looked exactly the opposite of her husband. Next to Cleo, she was the best source of gossip in the valley.

“Well, hi there, stranger,” Debbie said with a friendly smile as she began to unload and ring up Roxanne's groceries. “Haven't seen you in a coon's age. Your folks well? How's that house of yours coming along? Heard that it's very nice. You really going to be living here all the time now? Retiring, I hear. Aren't you kinda young?”

Roxanne laughed and proceeded to let Debbie pick her brains. She often wondered why the valley even had a newspaper—Cleo and Debbie did an excellent job of spreading the news.

Sacking up Roxanne's groceries, her blue eyes alert, Debbie leaned forward and asked in a low voice, “You heard the news about Nick Rios? About him being Shelly's brother?”

Roxanne nodded. “I was there when she announced it.”

“Well, it's a good thing the truth is finally out in the open. I always wondered about Nick—especially as he grew older. Looked too much like Josh for it just to have been an accident and I never believed the gossip about Josh being his father.” At Roxanne's raised brow, she went on, “I know there're a lot of people who didn't like Josh Granger and I can't say as how I blame some of them—he could be a son of a bitch when he wanted to be, but in his own way he always struck me as an honorable kind of guy. I had trouble believing that he wouldn't acknowledge his own son.”

Roxanne didn't know what to say. She hadn't known Josh—he was a Granger, she was a Ballinger, so they never had much interaction with each other. And deciding that it would be better to keep her mouth shut, she just nodded and said, “I feel sorry for Nick and Maria. They'll be the talk of the valley for a while.”

Debbie's blue eyes twinkled and she chuckled. “Oh, don't worry about it—in two weeks, tongues will be wagging about something else.”

Debbie's words didn't comfort Roxanne. She knew exactly upon whom the valley's interest would next focus. Her and Jeb.

Back at the house, she unloaded and put away the groceries. Checking her answering machine, she was disappointed that she'd missed a call from Jeb. Just the sound of his deep voice sent a thrill through her and she wished she hadn't lingered in town—she'd only missed his call by minutes. But she perked up. He'd said that he'd bring dinner, Chinese food from Willits, and the dogs, and they'd be at her house tonight. About 7:00 P.M. If that was a problem, leave a message on his home phone. A problem? she thought with a grin. Who does he think he's kidding?

And just about at 7:00 P.M. sharp there was a rap on Roxanne's front door. She opened it, her heart leaping at the sight of Jeb, a paper bag holding Chinese food in his arm and the dogs leaping around his feet. They managed to get the food to the kitchen before they fell into each other's arms as if they'd been separated for a month.

The days passed Roxanne in a blur of passionate nights lost in Jeb's arms and happy hours settling into her house. By tacit consent, the first weekend in January, Jeb constructed a small enclosed dog run at the side of the old garage and placed a new doghouse and pad he'd bought in it, along with a big water pan. From then on the dogs spent their days following Roxanne around and taking long walks with her as she explored the property. There was never any question of the dogs actually spending the night in the dog run—it was for those times when they couldn't take the dogs with them and didn't want them running loose. At night, the dogs were confidently curled up on the bed, Dawg a warm bundle at her back, Boss doing a fine job of keeping her feet warm—except of course when she and Jeb were lost in each other's arms. Jeb still slipped out of her bed and left to shower and dress on workdays, but other times, he was at her house and spent most nights. And while he was practically living with her, he was very careful to keep up the pretext that he still lived in his own house on the other side of the valley—neither one of them seemed inclined to formalize the situation.

And while she and Jeb easily talked about many subjects, they studiously avoided any serious conversation about the future, both of them wary and not It was a dry January and as it drew to an end, there was increasing talk of drought. The days were reasonably pleasant—for January—and though they'd had some rain, it had been more in the form of misty showers than the good winter downpours everyone was hoping for.

Roxanne was so immersed in her life in Oak Valley that it was as if her days as a model had never been. A phone call in late January from a fellow model and friend, Ann Talbot, evoked only the tiniest pang of regret that she had given up her career. Or most of it—she had told her agent, Marshall Klein, that she'd be willing to do the occasional charity gig and once in a while a brief shoot—provided it was somewhere in the Caribbean or Hawaii. Marshall was Ann's agent, too, and over the years the two women had frequently shared assignments and at the beginning of their careers had shared an apartment together. Ann was a tall, striking café au lait–skinned woman with almond-shaped eyes that were a mysterious shade of pale blue-green. “I probably,” Ann often said with a laugh, “got those from some white honky plantation owner who couldn't keep his hands off the slave women. Only good thing the bastard ever did for my people was pass on these eyes.”

Ann was full of news and gossip and they laughed and talked for nearly two hours. “So how're you doing out there in the wilderness, girlfriend?” Ann asked toward the end of their conversation. “Missing the excitement of the Big Apple, yet? Or have you gone totally back to nature?”

“Not totally but almost. Oh, Ann, I do love it here. I'd forgotten how much. It's so wonderful to wake up to the sound of absolutely
nothing
. And the air! Terrific. And when I look out my windows all I see are blue sky, and miles and miles of wilderness. The lack of stress is unbelievable. You should try it sometime.” Roxanne laughed. “Of course, there's no takeout—in fact a couple nights of the week, there isn't even a restaurant open. There are no clubs or theaters—we're so small and far from civilization we don't even have a
movie
theater. No taxis. No buses. No delivery, except mail, UPS, and FedEx. No doormen. No adoring fans. There's just cattle, horses, sheep, and big empty fields and mountains of forest filled with wildlife. It's wonderful—if it doesn't bore you to death.”