On Lone Star Trail (11 page)

“Correct on both accounts.” Though she'd enjoyed helping Marisa with her paperwork and getting to know her better, Gillian knew there was at most one more day's work for her.

“Did Kate tell you that Blake and I own Hill Country Pages?”

“She did. We were going to stop in when we had our hair done, but we ran out of time.” Though Gillian wasn't certain where this was heading, she was intrigued. From the outside, Hill Country Pages looked like a bookstore where she'd enjoy browsing.

“Did Kate also tell you I've been having a terrible time finding staff?”

Gillian shook her head. “That's one thing she did not share with me.”

Marisa resumed her fiddling with her ring. “Well, I am. It won't be a problem during the summer, because I can hire teenagers, but right now I don't have enough people to run the store while I'm at Rainbow's End. I'm there the three evenings we're open and on Saturday, but Monday through Friday from ten to five is a problem. The woman who used to be full time just had a baby, and the others only want to work a few hours a week.” Marisa took a shallow breath and exhaled. “Would you consider helping me?”

“Sure.”

“Sure, as in you'd consider it?”

“Sure, as in I'll do it.” How hard could working in a bookstore be? “When do you want me to start?”

“Tomorrow.”

I
t had been easier than she'd expected, Gillian reflected as she took a sip of the milk shake that was serving as her lunch. Carmen would frown, but after the breakfast she'd eaten, Gillian hadn't needed a full meal at noon. She had closed the store for ten minutes and had walked to the Sit ‘n' Sip, spending a couple minutes chatting with Russ Walker while he made her shake.

TJ was right. Russ hadn't meant to pry into Gillian's personal life; he was simply a friendly man who liked to be in the know. Today he'd shared the news that the teenagers seemed to like their new history teacher. Gillian planned to pass that tidbit on to TJ at supper tonight. But first she had to finish her workday.

There had been a steady stream of customers all morning, most of whom made at least a small purchase, but fortunately there had been no rush that would have taxed Gillian's skills. Equally as fortunate, the computer system and cash register had been easy to operate. All in all, it had been an enjoyable morning.

She looked up as two women entered. Of similar heights, both had the tightly curled gray hair Gillian associated with women in their eighties. They both wore loose fitting jeans, western shirts, and running shoes that probably had not experienced
more than a moderately paced walk. The primary difference appeared to be that one woman's hair was silver, while the other's resembled gun metal.

“It's nice to see a new face,” the silver-haired woman said as she closed the door behind her companion.

“It's nice to see the store still open,” Gun Metal added. “We were worried, because we heard Marisa was having trouble finding help.”

“She even asked us. Can you imagine?” Silver feigned horror. “Linda and I are more than eighty.”

“But young at heart.” As if to prove her point, the woman named Linda did a little two-step, then winced.

“Hearts are one thing, but you still need good knees to work in a store like this. Speaking for myself, these knees have seen better years.”

Since neither woman appeared to expect Gillian to respond, she suspected they'd continue talking indefinitely if she didn't interrupt them. “Is there anything special you're looking for?” she asked. Marisa had told Gillian to expect browsers and not to be concerned if she made no sales, but that wasn't good enough for Gillian. She wanted to turn every browser into a buyer.

Silver nodded. “We want something set in olden times, but no smut, if you know what I mean.”

Gillian matched the older woman's nod. “I understand.” She walked to one of the shelves and pulled out a book. “You might like Jane Kirkpatrick. She's won all kinds of awards for her writing.”

Linda read the back cover copy. “Let's try this. If we like it, we can recommend it to the book club.”

Gillian's ears perked up. “Is Sally Fuller, that is, Sally Gordon,” she corrected herself, “in your club?” Though it seemed unlikely that a town the size of Dupree would boast two book clubs for seniors, Gillian didn't want to make any assumptions.

“She is,” Silver confirmed. “We're all looking forward to it
once we settle on a place to meet. At least then there'll be something for us to do here.” She fixed her gaze on Gillian, as if willing her to understand. “Don't get me wrong. Dupree's a nice town, but it seems to me everyone's so busy planning activities for the kids that they forget about us older folks.”

Linda put a hand on Silver's arm. “Let's just pay for the book and leave. I'm sure this young lady doesn't want to hear about our problems. There's nothing she can do.”

He shouldn't be so happy that the man was gone. After all, that meant less revenue for Rainbow's End, and while Greg Vange didn't need the money to survive, TJ was certain a full resort pleased both him and Kate. But, though he told himself it was wrong, TJ couldn't help but be glad that Mike Tarkett had returned to Blytheville and was no longer sharing walks, tennis matches, and who knew what else with Gillian. And if that wasn't meanspirited of him, TJ didn't know what was. Still, there was no denying that meals had been more pleasant without Mike at the same table, monopolizing Gillian.

TJ grabbed the bag of groceries and headed out of the lodge. Though he'd suggested a change of menu, the teens had insisted that s'mores should remain their nightly fare, and so each night he loaded graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows into a bag.

“I hear you're a working woman now,” he said as Gillian emerged from her cabin, a smaller bag tucked under her arm. He wasn't sure what aspect of fashion she was discussing tonight and wouldn't ask. There were things a man didn't need to know. What he did know was that she looked especially pretty tonight.

If it hadn't been for the specter of Mike Tarkett, TJ might have told her that, but he didn't want to appear to be like Mike, flirting with her. It might give her the wrong idea. That's why TJ
hadn't gone so far as to compliment Gillian, though he'd noticed that the green sweater she'd knotted around her shoulders made her eyes look closer to emerald than grass green.

She laughed, that silvery tinkle of a laugh that made him wish he knew how to coax it out of her more often. There had never been a problem getting Deb to laugh, but Gillian was very different from Deb.

“If you can call five hours of fun employment, then I'm a working woman.”

“Fun?” TJ focused on the word that sounded like an anomaly. Though he had to admit that returning to the classroom had proven to be better than he'd feared, he would not have described it as fun.

Gillian nodded. “I thought it might be fun, but it definitely exceeded my expectations.”

TJ couldn't help staring at her. Here was a world-renowned pianist, a woman who'd had standing ovations from coast to coast. She probably had enough money to go anywhere and do anything, yet she described working in a small bookstore as fun. Amazing. That was Gillian Hodge—amazing.

She didn't appear to expect a response, because she continued, “The day didn't feel too busy, but Marisa said she'd never had so many customers on a Monday.”

As they left the pavement, TJ's and Gillian's shoes crunched on the gravel of the temporary entrance road to Firefly Valley. Though Greg had not wanted to pave anything, since he and Kate had not yet decided where they would build their future home, they'd provided a crude gravel drive for the residents, saying it was the least they could do for those who'd lost so much. Typical Greg, TJ reflected, giving generously, yet never demanding recognition for his kindness. Gillian was like that too.

“I'm not surprised you had so many customers,” he told her. “Folks wanted to meet a celebrity.” TJ hoped he wasn't bursting any bubbles with his statement.

“You mean me?” Gillian laughed again, her voice so filled with mirth that TJ couldn't help smiling in response. “I doubt that. No one even mentioned music.”

“But they knew your name, didn't they?” When she nodded, TJ continued. “This is a small town, Gillian. There are no secrets here.” Except his.

Jake Thomas had learned about Deb when he'd done his reference checks, but when TJ had said he preferred not to have that be common knowledge, Jake had respected his desire for privacy. As for the rest of his life, there was no reason anyone in Dupree would connect TJ Benjamin, history teacher, with the man who'd been known as the RV Reverend.

He slowed his pace, wanting to finish this conversation before they were interrupted by the teenagers. “Everyone knows that a famous pianist is staying at Rainbow's End and that she was helping out at the bookstore today.”

“Oh.” Gillian appeared to be digesting his words. “I hadn't thought about that. Even if folks just came out of curiosity, I had fun talking to them, and Marisa benefited from the sales. A classic win-win. Plus, I got to spend the day surrounded by books.”

Other than history books, of which he'd once had a sizeable collection, books had not been a major part of TJ's life. Gillian was different. He'd heard her discussing virtually every fiction genre with a librarian who'd shared their supper table the first week they'd been at Rainbow's End.

“You really like to read, don't you?” Without waiting for her response, TJ said, “Maybe we can get the Firefly Valley kids more interested in reading.” He was surprised they hadn't grown bored by the campfire stories and s'mores routine by now. A new activity might be just what they needed.

“A campfire book club?”

“Something like that.”

But when TJ suggested the idea, the boys scoffed.

“You talking about fiction?” Shane asked, his swagger more pronounced as he added another log to the pile. “We got no need to read when we got you telling us tall tales every night.”

“Tall tales?”

“Yeah. You don't expect us to believe you've been to all those places, do you?”

TJ hadn't thought anything the kids would say could surprise him, but this did. They believed he was inventing or at least embellishing his stories, and that couldn't be further from the truth. Admittedly, he'd chosen to dramatize the most interesting parts of his travels, but the results were not fiction.

“Not only have I been there, but I have proof,” he announced. Raising his voice so that everyone could hear, he continued, “Meet me outside the lodge tomorrow night, and I'll give you proof.”

Gillian had never seen the teens so excited. They'd arrived earlier than the designated time and were milling around the lodge, bickering less than normal.

“What do you think TJ meant by proof?” Brianna asked.

Though she knew what he planned to do, Gillian merely smiled. “You'll have to wait and see.”

“Todd believes he's telling the truth.”

“So do I.” Gillian's smile broadened as she looked at the girl whose wardrobe had taken a definitely conservative turn over the past few days. Though she'd said nothing to Brianna about what she'd considered inappropriate clothing, the girl seemed to have begun to emulate Gillian's choices. Today she wore jeans and a shirt. Although they were tighter than any Gillian owned, they were also at least two sizes larger than the clothes Brianna had been wearing the first day they'd met.

Brianna's smile turned coy. “You gotta believe TJ. After all, he's your boyfriend.”

There was no point in protesting. Brianna wouldn't believe TJ and Gillian were just friends, and so Gillian merely pointed toward TJ, who'd raised a hand for silence. “It looks like we're ready.”

TJ waited until the teens were gathered around him and as quiet as a group of teens could be before he spoke. “I know we've got some doubting Thomases here, so . . .”

“What's a doubting Thomas?”

Smiling, TJ began his explanation. “He was one of Jesus's disciples who wouldn't believe Jesus had risen from the dead until he touched the scars.”

“Oh.” The boy looked around, his expression clearly asking whether he was the only one who hadn't known the story. Though Gillian suspected he wasn't alone, no one else admitted their ignorance.