“Come on in.” Janie put her arm around Dahlia’s waist, guiding her gently into the dining room. “You’ve got time for a cookie at least, and we’ve got lots more food than we can eat. Why don’t you fill up a plate?”
Erik glanced at Jess, the corners of his mouth edging up in a faint smile. “Nice to see you, Ms. Carroll. And Jack too.”
Jack gazed up at him, grinning, then gave him a quick crow while he pounded on his high chair tray.
“He recognizes you.” Lars sounded vaguely affronted.
“He recognizes Toleffsons,” Jess explained. “I think he figures you’re all more or less the same person.”
For a moment, the four brothers stared at each other, then Pete broke into a slow grin. “Maybe the kid’s onto something.”
“Erik? You want a cookie?” Dahlia’s voice was almost as tiny as she was.
Erik turned toward her. “Sure. A cookie would be good. And maybe some coffee.”
“Sit down.” Docia waved toward the table. “I’ll bring you a plate. You should have some of everything before you go to work.”
Everyone shifted slightly around the table to make room. Mrs. Dupree headed for the kitchen, muttering something about getting a start on the dishes. Bethany got up to join her.
Dahlia slid into the seat next to Jack that Docia had just vacated. Jack gave her his usual enthusiastic grin.
“He’s cute,” Dahlia murmured in her tiny voice. “Is he yours?”
“Yep.” Jess broke off a corner of her cranberry nut bar and put it on Jack’s tray. “Say hi to Dahlia, Jack.”
“Hi, Jack.” Dahlia’s voice went up a micropitch. Jack smiled at her beatifically.
Docia dropped back into a chair on the other side of the table. “Great dinner everybody. In fact, everything would all be absolutely wonderful if it weren’t for Kris Kringle.”
Jess stared at her. “You have a problem with Santa Claus?”
“I have a problem with the freakin’ Kris Kringle Market that starts tomorrow at the county fairgrounds. Official beginning of the holiday shopping season. And we’ve got dozens of boutique dog biscuits to sell.”
“Not as bad as gingerbread men,” Allie called from the kitchen. “At least you won’t have kids trying to lick off the frosting while you aren’t looking.”
Jess frowned. “Dog biscuits? I thought you had a bookstore.”
“I do. Don’t ask why we’re doing this. It’s too complicated. The gist of it is, we’re selling dog biscuits.”
Allie began carrying in cups of coffee from the kitchen. “Who’s going to run the store while you’re at the fairgrounds? I mean, I’ve got nieces to spell me and help out at Sweet Thing while I’m over spreading good will via gingerbread.”
“We’re taking turns,” Janie explained. “I’m on the booth in the morning, then Docia takes over in the afternoon.”
Allie frowned. “That makes for a long day. Can’t you draft somebody else to help?”
Cal held up both hands. “Don’t look at me. We’ve got a spay and neuter clinic all weekend.”
“I can be there part of the time in the morning,” Pete offered. “I’ve got the day off. I’ll help Janie.”
“I could help in the afternoon,” Jess said slowly. “If you don’t mind me bringing Jack along.”
Lars turned to look at her. “What about Daisy?”
Janie grinned. “Daisy can stay with me. We’ve already got the bookstore all set up, don’t we, sweetie?”
“Or with me.” Pete shrugged. “I’m off all day, so she can hang out with me in the afternoon.”
“Great,” Docia said briskly. “Jess can meet me at the fairgrounds tomorrow afternoon and learn all about tourist town commerce. Jack can be our special marketing ploy—check out the cutie and buy your pup a biscuit.”
Jess had a feeling Jack would be whimpering for a dog biscuit of his own before the afternoon was over, but she’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Maybe she could give him a teething biscuit instead.
Down the table, Erik wrapped up a cranberry bar to go. “Ready?” He raised an eyebrow at Dahlia.
“Sure.” She turned quickly to Docia. “Thank you for having me,” she mumbled.
“Thank you for coming.” Docia got up and walked with them to the doorway where she gave Erik a quick hug.
He looked almost as surprised as his brothers did, but he managed a smile as he settled his Stetson on his head. “Thanks, Docia. I appreciate it.”
He shepherded Dahlia out the door a little like a large, shaggy sheep dog with an abandoned lamb.
By the time they’d finished doing the dishes and playing the traditional Toleffson Thanksgiving poker tournament, Daisy was fast asleep in one of the loft bedrooms.
“Let her sleep,” Docia urged. “She’s got her stuff here from Janie’s. We’ll get her home sometime tomorrow after Jess and I finish up at the fairgrounds. You can leave Sweetie here too, for now. Looks like he and Pep have bonded.”
Lars glanced at the dogs curled in the corner, while he fought back the impulse to look at Jess.
Keep it casual.
No doubt his sisters-in-law would do a complete post mortem anyway, as soon as they left the room.
He helped her gather Jack’s gear together, while Jack himself dozed in an improvised bed of sofa cushions. Lars wondered if he could possibly suggest that Jack stay too, then felt like kicking himself for being an asshole.
Jess turned to Docia. “Thanks again for having us. It was a great Thanksgiving.”
“It was, wasn’t it? We’ll have to do it again soon.”
Lars heard a few vague alarm bells in his mind. Docia was trying to manage his life again. But for once he didn’t care. At least, not at the moment.
He glanced back into the living room where his brothers sat watching him. Cal gave him a slow grin. Well, hell, was everybody in the house monitoring his sex life?
Stupid question. Of course, they were.
Lars gathered up the bundles of food Janie and Docia had put together for Jess to take home as Jess gathered up the sleeping Jack, draping him across her shoulder. His eyes opened blearily for a moment, then closed again.
The ride home was fairly silent, after they’d exchanged the obligatory comments on the food, the poker and the general wonderfulness of his sisters-in-law. Lars wondered if Jess was thinking about the same things he was thinking about, then decided she’d have to be a moron not to be. And Jess was definitely no moron.
At the house, he did a quick survey of the perimeter. If he were Haggedorn, he might figure Thanksgiving would be the ideal time to make his move. On the other hand, if he actually were Haggedorn, he’d find a better way to spend his time than harassing widows and kidnapping babies.
Jess gathered up the sleeping Jack, leaving Lars to collect the miscellaneous plastic cartons of food, as well as Jack’s high chair and the other equipment they’d brought for him.
When he’d finished putting the food away, he walked back to the hall to find Jess standing in the doorway to her room.
Lars did a quick search through his memory, trying to come up with some kind of line that would work. He had a feeling once she was through that door, he wouldn’t be able to follow.
“So,” he said, trying for nonchalance, “you’re all done putting him down?”
“All done.” Her smile was Sphinx-like.
“And you’re ready to go to bed?”
She nodded, still smiling.
“I could offer you some company.” He swallowed hard, trying to read her expression. Was that smile welcoming, or did she think he was being a jerk. “Or not. Your call. Entirely.”
Jess looked up at him from beneath her lowered lashes, and then she reached up, sliding her hands on either side of his face, and pulled him down to her, running her tongue alone the seam of his lips.
Lars felt every muscle in his body go rigid.
“Company sounds very good,” she whispered.
Chapter Eighteen
The next afternoon, Jess surveyed the county fairgrounds as she pushed Jack forward in his stroller. It looked like a human feedlot—lots of little, square, pen-like booths, arranged in a twisting series of aisles that led into each other in what seemed to be almost random order. She checked the printed map she’d picked up at the entrance, trying to orient herself in the booth maze before she started toward the stall for Kent’s Hill Country Books.
The aisles were awash with plastic pine boughs and holly, along with lots of fake snow. Christmas carols boomed from some of the booths, competing versions of “Jingle Bell Rock” echoing down the corridors. If the temperature hadn’t hovered somewhere around seventy-five, Jess could have sworn it was Christmas.
The aisles were also clogged with people, not all of whom were happy about making room for a woman and a stroller. Jess wished she had some kind of Road Warrior armor to put around Jack in case somebody tripped over the front wheels, but she had to make do with dirty looks and shouted “Excuse mes”. If only Lars were here, he could run interference.
Lars
. Last night in her room. In her bed. Doing things she was pretty sure she hadn’t ever done before with anybody. He was a generous man, Lars Toleffson. And the thing about generous men was that they made you want to be generous too. Bedroom generosity lent a whole new meaning to the words, “Do unto others and they’ll do unto you.”
Jess almost ran the stroller into a squarish woman in a purple sweatshirt who was holding a lethal-looking tote-bag. She pulled her mind back into focus. “Excuse me.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, then nodded to acknowledge the apology as she stepped to the side.
Jess paused to take stock again. According to her map, she was nearing the outer edge of the booth maze, which was where the Hill Country Books booth was supposed to be. She turned the stroller down another aisle and headed toward the far end.
Janie waved at her as soon as the booth came into view, and Daisy galloped toward them. “Jack, Jack, wait’ll you see! It’s Santa Claus!”
Jess raised an eyebrow. “Santa Claus?”
“Actually, Horace in a red suit,” Janie explained, sotto voice. “When he powders his moustache and puts on a fake beard, there’s a resemblance. That was this morning, though. Now he’s back at the clinic with Cal.”
“Hey, Jess, you made it!” Docia cried. “Come on into the booth.”
Jess paused to check the layout. The counter in front was laden with what looked like homemade cookies shaped like stars, candy canes, and bells, each wrapped in red or green cellophane and tied with a bow. The counter running along the side of the booth was full of pet books—picture collections, training manuals, novels, cartoon collections. A large basket next to the cash register was full of peppermint drops.
Jess raised an eyebrow. “For the dogs?”
“Nope. For the kids. Speaking of which…” Docia leaned down to touch noses with Jack in his stroller. “Hi, sweetie.”
Jack giggled and lunged for her hair, managing to bump his head in the process. He stared at Docia in surprise for a few moments before the inevitable wail.
Jess unfastened him from the stroller, lifting him into her arms. “Well, kid, what did you expect? If you keep trying to grab every pretty girl you see, sooner or later you’re bound to get nailed.”
His wails subsided into sniffles, and then he was reaching for the dog biscuits.
Jess shook her head. “I foresee a long afternoon ahead. Is there a spot where we can set up a playpen? I’ve got a collapsible one in the back of the stroller.”
“Sure. Back there.” Docia nodded to the far corner of the booth, shoving aside a couple of chairs. “You and I can sit up front.”
Ten minutes later, Janie and Daisy had left for the shop and Jack was standing in his playpen, watching the customers with bright brown eyes that looked a little like raisins in his smiling baby face.
“Can I ask a really stupid question?” Docia leaned back against the edge of the counter, watching a couple of elderly ladies examine the books.
“Sure, I guess.”
“How old it Jack?” Her face flushed slightly. “I mean, I haven’t been around babies much. I’m just beginning to learn what they do when.”
“He’s almost ten months.” Jess leaned down to pick up Mr. Wiggles from where Jack had thrown him. “Pretty soon he’ll be walking, which means everything in the house goes up another level, and my anxiety rate accelerates to full panic.”
“You’re really good with him.”
Docia flushed again, and Jess wondered what exactly was going on. She didn’t think she’d missed any nuances, but she might have.
The elderly women glanced at the biscuits without much interest and then moved on, muttering.
“I’m pregnant,” Docia blurted, then slapped a hand to her mouth as she checked to see if anyone had heard her. All the customers seemed to be otherwise occupied.
“Oh, Docia, how wonderful!” Jess put her arms around Docia’s shoulders, standing slightly on tiptoe to do it.
“Yeah.” Docia was grinning now, her face still slightly pink. “I didn’t exactly mean to say it that way. I just found out for sure a couple of days ago. Cal and I haven’t told anybody else, except for Janie and Pete. Don’t tell Lars yet, okay? Let Cal do it.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Of course, I won’t be able to keep it a secret for long.” She patted her stomach. “Toleffson babies are huge, judging by Daisy. And then on my side we’ve got the Brandenburgs, who aren’t exactly small. How big was Jack?”
“Seven pounds, eight ounces.”
“That’s sort of normal, isn’t it?” Docia’s forehead was scrunched. “I mean how big are babies supposed to be?”
“Six or seven pounds is normal, I think. Jack’s dad wasn’t a big man.”
“Oh. What was he like?” Docia shook her head. “I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t want to pry or anything.”
“No, that’s okay.” Jess sat back in her chair, watching Jack maul Mr. Wiggles. “He was a good man. Very gentle. Sweet. Funny. A great person to talk to.”
Docia pulled the other chair to the side of the booth. “Cal said he was older.”
Jess nodded. “By a few years. He always said he’d wasted his youth, but had a shot at a great middle age.”
She felt a quick pang somewhere around her heart. She hadn’t thought about Barry in several days. Days during which she’d been doing some serious cavorting with a relative stranger.
“You miss him.”
“Yes, I do. I wish he’d lived long enough to see Jack, but he just couldn’t hang on any longer. His heart problems were too advanced.” Tears gathered in her eyes for the first time in weeks. She reached for her purse to grab a tissue.
“Oh, Jess, I’m sorry!” Docia leaned forward to give her a hug. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about Barry. Really. He was a great guy.”
A couple of teenagers stopped at the front counter, eyeing Jess and Docia somewhat dubiously. One of them nodded at the dog biscuits. “What’s in these?”
Docia pointed at the stars. “These are cheese. They’ve got milk and cheddar and whole wheat flour, along with some egg and a little sugar. The candy canes are peanut butter and flour and milk. Those—” she pointed at the bells, “—are bacon, with whole wheat flour, milk, eggs, garlic powder, and a little bacon fat.”
“Ewww.” One of the teenagers crinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. Cookies with bacon fat?”
Docia looked as if she were contemplating a quick dismemberment. Jess stood hastily.
“They’re dog biscuits, not cookies for people. Dogs will love them.”
“Christmas dog biscuits?” The second teenager raised her eyebrows.
“Sure. Why shouldn’t your pup get to celebrate like everybody else?”
The first teenager still looked dubious, but the other was digging into her purse. “Okay, I’ll take one of each. Nobody ever gave Boomer a Christmas present before.”
Jess took her money, then offered her friend a peppermint drop, which led to the friend deciding to check out the books, which ultimately ended with the friend buying a dog-themed date book for her mother. “She loves Chihuahuas,” the girl explained, shrugging. “Really lame.”
After she’d made change and sent the teenagers happily on their way, Jess looked back to check on Jack. Docia sat in her chair at the side of the booth again. Her face looked damp.
“Docia?” Jess leaned down beside her. “Is everything okay?”
Docia swallowed. “You know…cookies with bacon fat really do sound sort of…disgusting.”
“Oh my.” Jess put her hand on her shoulder. “Just breathe. You’ll be okay.”
Docia’s face now had a faint greenish tinge. “I was fine. Honestly I was. Then we started talking about bacon fat…” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “This is
so
not good.”
“There’s a restroom building at the end of this aisle. I saw it as we were coming in. Can you make it down there on your own? I can call someone to help.”
“Don’t be silly.” Docia stood, wobbling slightly. “I don’t need to go anywhere…” She took another deep breath. “Scratch that. Where did you say that ladies room is?”
Jess took her arm, pulling her gently to the aisle. “Look down there. It’s the green door.”
“Right. I’ll be right back. Hold the fort.” Docia started toward the bathroom at something approaching a brisk trot.
Jess watched her go, then turned back to the booth just as a group of tourists in baseball caps arrived, exclaiming over the biscuits. One of them had a golden retriever who looked capable of eating the entire table in a single gulp. Jess divided her time between selling biscuits and keeping an eye on Jack, who’d taken one look at the retriever and fallen deeply and urgently in love once again.
Ten minutes later, she wondered if Docia needed help. She couldn’t leave the booth as long as they had customers, not to mention Jack.
“Hello,” someone whispered at her elbow.
Jess turned to see Erik’s girlfriend. What was her name? Dahlia. Something about her looked different today. After a moment, Jess realized she wasn’t wearing all her earrings, or the spike through her eyebrow. Without them, she looked sort of…ordinary.
“Hi, Dahlia, how are you?”
“I’m fine. Is this your booth?” Dahlia still sounded like she was auditioning for a Marilyn Monroe sound-alike contest.
“It’s Docia’s. Look, do you have a minute? Could you run down to the restroom and check on Docia for me? She wasn’t feeling well, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Oh.” Dahlia’s eyes widened in alarm. “Okay. I guess I could. You want me to come back here then?”
“Yeah, please come back and tell me how she is.”
Dahlia chewed on her lower lip. She looked as if she’d just been asked to take a quick walk over a fire pit. “Okay. I can do that.” She started down the aisle toward the restrooms, keeping far to the side, out of everybody’s path.
Jess sighed. Somebody needed to take Dahlia in hand, but it wouldn’t be her. Maybe that was Erik’s job.
The crowd had thinned out a bit as she’d talked to Dahlia. Only a few people strolled along the far end of the aisle. The Hill Country Books booth seemed to be in one of the more isolated sections of the booth maze. Still, just in the hour or so she’d been there, she’d sold a lot of dog biscuits and a few books.
She picked Jack up, cradling him against her shoulder. “Any chance you’ll want to take a nap today, kid? Not that you’d be able to sleep around here with all this excitement. Maybe you’ll be a sweetheart and go to bed early tonight.”
Jack wriggled in her arms, trying to turn so that he could see the people walking by.
“Okay.” Jess sighed. “Let me sit. Then you can do your worst.”
“She’s not there.”
Jess jerked around, staring. Dahlia stood in the entrance to the booth, eyes wide.
“I looked all around the restroom and nobody was there. Did she come back here?”
Jess shook her head. “That’s odd. I hope she didn’t feel so bad she had to leave.”
“Do you want to go see for yourself? Maybe I missed her.”
“I can’t leave the booth. Not with Jack.”
“I could look after him.” Dahlia glanced at Jack a little doubtfully. “I mean, he doesn’t look like he’d be hard to take care of. And you’d only be gone a minute.”
Jess considered it. She could put Jack into his playpen. Dahlia could certainly watch him for five minutes, and it wouldn’t take her longer than that to see if Docia was still in the restroom somewhere. It seemed like the ideal solution.
She wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to do it.
“Thanks anyway, Dahlia. Maybe I’ll just phone Lars and have him check with Cal.”
She put Jack down in his playpen again, then reached beside the playpen to pick up her purse.
The pain caught her before she could straighten up. Her entire body seemed to be clenched in a single jolting cramp. A burning ache flowed down her spine, as if someone had punched her again and again.
She dropped to her knees, panting. “Dahlia, something’s wrong! Help me!”
Jess managed to look up. Dahlia stood with what looked like a plastic gun in her hand, her expression impassive. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You should have taken my first offer.”
Her hand clenched again, and Jess gasped as her body spasmed with another jolt of agony. She fought for breath, fought to keep herself from passing out. “Why are you doing this to me?” she gasped.
“It’s just a Taser. Don’t worry. The effects pass.” Dahlia’s voice sounded less like Marilyn Monroe and more like Nurse Ratched all of a sudden. “Much better than the alternative.”
Jess tried to push herself up, but her bones had turned to water. Her arms felt too numb to support her.
“Don’t make me hit you again.” Dahlia’s voice sounded almost conversational. “There’s some evidence that too many shocks in a row can result in nerve damage. Just stay where you are. You’ll be okay again eventually.”
Jack stared at Jess through the mesh of his playpen, his eyes wide. He reached his chubby fingers toward her, whimpering.
“Okay, baby, time to go.” Dahlia stepped next to the playpen, gathering Jack into her arms.
“No,” Jess groaned, trying to pull herself up again. “Don’t! Leave him alone!”