Wanted: A Family (10 page)

T
he candles were lit, the food served, the prayer given. At Callie's side, Jacob sat stiff in his chair. Even inexperience in social situations didn't explain his obvious uneasiness.

Talk ceased while everyone tasted the first bites, then resumed as they declared the food delicious. Callie released the breath she'd been holding and thanked her guests.

“I'm glad you've stopped wearing black, Callie. It's never been your color.” Loretta gestured across the table to Jacob. “I'm also glad to have the opportunity to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Frederick.”

“Please, call me Loretta. And whatever Hal has said about me, take it with a grain of pepper.”

Hal chuckled. “Salt is too bland for my wife.”

Winking at her husband, Loretta took a bite of potatoes. “I'm impressed with your skill, Jake. That new porch floor is as solid as Marlene Thompson's fruitcake.”

Callie snickered. “You're terrible.”

“You know I'm speaking the truth. Marlene carries that fruitcake of hers to church suppers and carries it home untouched. Wouldn't you think after all these years, she'd get the message?” She smiled. “Course if she did, folks
would probably miss it. Grumbling about Marlene's fruitcake is as much a Christmas tradition in Peaceful as caroling on Christmas Eve.”

At Loretta's assertion, Elise choked on her sip of water. “That's like Papa fussing about Mama's dime novels. If he stopped, he'd take away half the fun of Mama's reading them.”

Eyes on Jacob, Hal cut a slice of beef. “Smith, tell us about yourself. Where did you learn carpentry?”

“I apprenticed at a construction company. The owner took me under his wing and saw that I learned more than the basics.”

Though Jacob sounded at ease, the tight look around his mouth verified that he didn't relish being the center of attention. His discomfort touched a spot deep inside her.

She glanced at Mildred, wearing a beribboned gown, the round neck edged in lace and trimmed with seed pearls. “You look lovely this evening, Mildred.”

“You're sweet, dear, but truth is I look as overdone as a dried out turkey at Thanksgiving.” She smiled. “But I'm here. At my age, every day I wake up is a good day.”

Elise giggled and the others joined in. Callie could see the tension ease in Jacob's shoulders. “From what I've been reading in the papers,” she said, keeping the conversation off him, “President McKinley should win reelection in the fall.”

“McKinley and Roosevelt make a good ticket,” Jacob said.

“Papa reads the newspapers from front to back,” Elise groaned. “At supper he dishes up the news like stew, chunks of politics, dash of the gold standard, pinch of Spain, on and on until Mama and I have indigestion.”

Callie chuckled. “I take it you'd appreciate a change of topics.”

“I could use some work done on our house, Smith.” Hal buttered his roll, apparently determined to return the conversation to Jacob. “Once you're finished here, I'd appreciate it if you'd take a look. Maybe you could teach me and those sons of mine to handle some carpentry.”

Jacob shifted in his seat. “Not sure how long that'll be. Most likely I'll move on after I'm finished here.”

Not news, but still Jacob's words banged against her heart. As soon as Jacob repaired her house, he would leave.

“Too bad you're moving on. Lots of buildings in town could use repairs, new roofs. There's enough work here to keep an honest man busy for years.”

Mildred patted Jacob's hand. “Maybe Jake will change his mind. The Granger place over on Harmony could use some attention. The roof leaks like a slotted spoon. After Elmer died, Louise took in boarders for a while, but didn't earn enough to keep the place up.”

“I arrested one of her boarders for forgery, a man from out of town.” Hal leaned back in his chair and gave a smug grin. “Found his face on a wanted poster.”

Jacob's mouth flattened. He quickly wiped it with his napkin, averting his gaze.

“A squirrel got in there once. The poor thing tore the parlor curtains and upholstery to shreds,” Elise said. “That squirrel was the talk of the town.”

Loretta grinned. “Louise asked me to trap the varmint. I suggested she just open the door, but she was afraid that the squirrel's pals might see it as an invitation.”

“Houses in Peaceful have more stories than floors.” Mildred grinned. “Just imagine what we could learn if lumber and plaster could talk.”

The sheriff nodded. “The McGuire place at the edge of town has this big old tree, once used to hang a man.”

Loretta wagged a finger at her husband. “That's hardly dinner-table conversation, Hal. There's a difference between trapping squirrels and stringing up a man.”

“I apologize, ladies. Such talk is routine in my line of work. I forget the sensibilities of the womenfolk.”

“No need to apologize on my account,” Mildred reassured him. “It's only natural you'd remember houses involved in crime.”

Loretta glanced at Jacob. “Any houses with tales to tell where you grew up, Jake?”

“I wasn't interested in houses until I got into construction.”

Hal glanced at Jacob. “Where's the construction company where you worked located?”

Lifting a forkful of potatoes toward his mouth, Jacob's hand stilled. “Bloomington.”

Elise gasped. “Indiana? Callie, isn't that the hometown of the unwed pregnant girl you said would be arriving soon?”

“Yes, someone in Bloomington knows someone, who knows someone who knows me.” She grinned. “I'm expecting a letter any day now with the date of her arrival.”

Under his tan, Jacob paled. Callie frowned. If the arrival of someone from where he'd lived upset him, he must have something to hide. His skittish behavior suggested that he'd felt more on trial than carefree, as if he had something to fear from the law.

As Callie walked to the kitchen for dessert, she knew her attempt to give Jacob a nice evening had failed. And worse, all the evening had accomplished was to put a large knot of mistrust of Jacob Smith twisting inside her.

 

Dinner churning in his stomach, Jake all but applauded when he saw the pie heading his way. Dessert meant the
meal would soon end and he could leave. During dinner, Frederick had quizzed him several times, real friendlylike, as if his answers didn't matter. Jake knew better.

Worse, an unwed mother would soon arrive in Peaceful from the town where he'd been arrested and found guilty. She might recognize his name, even his face, since the story had hit the papers. He had to get out of town before she arrived.

A knock sent Callie to answer the door. “Commodore, come in,” she said, her voice carrying to the dining room.

“You've got company. I don't want to interrupt. Dorothy asked me to drop off this sack of Martin's baby things. Said to tell you that she aired and washed them.”

“Thank Dorothy for me. I'm glad my baby will get to wear his father's things. Join us for a piece of cherry pie.” Callie tugged Commodore into view. “You know everyone.”

Mildred smiled a welcome. “Commodore, settle a quarrel for us. Who owned the Adams place when you were a boy?”

Frederick pulled a chair up to the table and gestured to Commodore. “Have a seat.”

As Callie hurried to get his pie, her father-in-law looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but he sat. Everyone greeted him, followed by an awkward pause.

“Reckon that would be the Prendergast family,” Commodore said. “John Prendergast was one of the town's first settlers.”

“That's what I thought,” Mildred said. “What a relief to get something right for a change.”

Callie sighed. “You don't forget as much as I do.”

“That happens to expectant mothers,” Loretta said. “I remember my brain turning to mush with our two.” Loretta
leaned toward Jake. “All evening, I've had the feeling I know you from somewhere.”

The bite of pie Jake had swallowed caught in his throat. He gulped it down. “Can't imagine where.”

“Your face looks so familiar.”

“I've never been to Peaceful before. I probably remind you of someone.”

“You do, but I can't think who.” A puzzled frown furrowed Loretta's brow.

“Good to know I'm not the only one with a lagging memory, though I rarely forget a face, especially a handsome face.” Mildred patted Jake's hand. “If I'd seen Jake before, I would've remembered. Now names…don't always stick.”

“This house sat empty all my life,” Elise said. “Who owned it before you, Callie?”

“I'm not sure.”

Mildred smiled. “Wesley Squier, an Indiana state senator built this house, one of the finest in these parts, even in the state. Strangest thing—the family moved out in the middle of the night.”

“Why would someone do that?” Elise asked.

Frederick scooped a bite of pie onto his fork. “No
good
reason I can think of. Did they leave a pile of debts?”

“No, nothing like that. They were upstanding citizens.” Mildred frowned. “A fancy Realtor over in Indianapolis tried to sell the house for years, but big-city folks didn't hanker living in what they saw as a Podunk town. And the price was bigger than Peaceful's purses. So it sat empty.”

“Until it got into such terrible shape that the house was sold at auction for next to nothing.” Callie smiled. “I'm grateful. Otherwise Commodore and Dorothy couldn't have bought it for our wedding present.”

“I heard gossip about why the Squier family left but that's all it was—gossip,” Mildred said.

Commodore snorted. “People like to talk. What they don't know, they make up.”

Elise's gaze dropped to her lap. “Gossip's a terrible thing.”

“Yes, it is,” Mildred said. “I make a point not to repeat it. I'm glad Callie's giving this beautiful old house new life. And Jake here is handling the renovation.”

Why had the Squier family moved out of the house? Did they have a daughter? Perhaps Jake should talk to Mildred, see if she'd open up about the gossip she'd heard. No matter what she said, most people couldn't resist wagging their tongues. He'd offer to do some chore. See what she knew.

Commodore rose. “This house should've been left to rot. You all enjoy your pie.” Though he hadn't taken a bite of his, he left the dining room.

The front door slammed. No one said a word.

Jake supposed he could understand Commodore Mitchell's resenting the house he blamed for his son's death. But each time he condemned it, he stomped on his daughter-in-law's heart.

As the tension of Commodore's remark ebbed, conversation resumed. Yet, for some reason Jake couldn't decipher, a whisper of questions hung in the air.

 

Callie and Elise hugged Loretta and Mildred goodbye. Jacob shook hands with Hal, then headed to the kitchen to start the dishes, a generous offer, but one Callie wished she'd refused. She wanted Jacob gone. Too much about him raised questions.

Callie closed the door after her departing guests and glanced at Elise. In her last weeks of pregnancy, the poor
thing looked limp as a wrung-out dishrag. Callie gave her a gentle push toward the stairs, sending her up to bed, then walked to the dining room.

As she loaded glasses onto a tray, she reconsidered Jacob's behavior. Perhaps she was unfairly suspicious, a fault of hers, when he might just be a private man who didn't open up easily. Most people had painful circumstances in their pasts they'd rather not dwell on. Like Martin's fall. Like Nell's tragedy. Like her family's destruction.

Still, she didn't trust a man who kept to himself. If she had any sense, she'd ask him to leave and handle the dishes alone. Yet, the prospect of spending time with him sent her pulse skittering and her aching feet to the kitchen.

Jacob stood at the sink, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow, his hands submerged wrist-high in suds. The shadow of a beard defined his rugged jaw.

As he scrubbed a plate, muscles in his back rippled beneath the shirt tucked into his trim waist. Her gaze moved lower to slim hips and long legs. Gulping, she quickly looked away, determined not to give in to these wild feelings of attraction to a man she didn't trust. Hands shaking, she planted the tray of glasses on the counter with a clunk.

“Nice party,” he said, glancing over at her with a smile.

“You didn't look like you were having a good time.”

“Formal meals aren't normal in my world. But I enjoyed the evening. I've never had better food.”

Pleased that he'd at least enjoyed her cooking, she wouldn't argue the point. “You appear to know your way around a kitchen.”

“Washing dishes was one of my chores at the orphanage.”

“I'm sorry there are so many.” She gave a nervous laugh.
“Aunt Hilda complained that I could dirty every pan in the kitchen just making toast.”

Grinning, he lifted a hand dripping suds, indicating the waiting stack. “This little batch will be a cinch.”

Martin would never have helped with what he'd called woman's work. He never put himself in another's shoes—especially a woman's shoes. To have Jacob's assistance in the kitchen left her rattled, as if her world had tilted and she couldn't get her bearings.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on what needed doing, then proceeded to cover bowls of leftovers with plates and put them in the icebox. Then she grabbed a towel to dry the plates draining on the counter.

He turned toward her, letting his gaze roam her face. “You look tired. But pretty,” he added as if afraid he'd hurt her feelings.

“I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose I am.” Inside her shoes she wiggled her toes and winced. “My feet hurt.”

“We can't have that.”