Authors: Michele Paige Holmes
“It’s not looking good, Sis.”
Speak of the devil.
Tara kept her position facing the window as Ben’s voice, followed by Ellen’s, drifted from the kitchen.
“Oh, where’s your faith, Benji?” Ellen’s voice was light, but even this far away, Tara could detect a stressed undertone.
“Where’s your common sense?” Ben retorted. “Colorado’s one giant blizzard right now, and you expect me to drive a woman and her children right into the middle of it?”
“You’re exaggerating,” Ellen said. “The blizzard is in Denver, and I’m sure it will be cleared up by the time we get there.”
“Portions of the highway have been closed.”
“They have.
East
of Denver.” Ellen sounded defensive now. “I’ve been checking too, you know.”
But Ben wasn’t backing down. “If we had another guy, El, but we don’t. How do you think Dallin would feel if I let something happen to his family?”
Ellen let out a frustrated groan. “Is that what this is about? You’re still worried what Dallin thinks of you, how he sees you?”
A lengthy silence met this remark, and Tara dearly wished she could see their faces. After a good minute had passed, Ben spoke again.
“I’m worried about getting my sister and her children safely over the Rocky Mountains. And with the weather the way it is right now, it seems mighty foolish to attempt such a thing with a moving truck and a minivan. If we get stranded—even if we just need to put chains on, I wouldn’t have anyone to help me. You’d need to stay in the van to take care of the kids.”
“But it’s Christmas. Dallin can’t be without his family on Christmas. And would you have Cadie and Sam and Chloe spend it away from their dad? Here, in this empty house?”
Tara heard Ben’s sigh and tried to decipher if it was one of frustration or defeat. “If we had another adult . . .”
“Well, we don’t. And no one’s going to want to join us on a road trip the day before Christmas. I mean they’d have to be going to Denver themselves, and where are we going to find—hey, what about Tara?”
Tara’s head snapped up at Ellen’s suggestion.
“She was headed to Colorado, anyway, and the airport still hasn’t reopened. Maybe she’d be willing—”
“Have you lost your mind?” Ben let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-choking. “’Cause I’d sure lose mine, being in a car with her all day.”
That’d be because you don’t have much mind to lose.
Tara’s earlier melancholy disintegrated in a burst of anger.
Like I’d want to go with you, anyway.
“You wouldn’t have to ride with her,” Ellen said. “She could come in the van to help me with the kids.”
“Lot of help that would be,” Ben said sarcastically.
He’s got a point
, Tara admitted to herself. She had no desire and no clue how to play nanny to a bunch of kids confined in a car.
But how hard could it be? And it would get me to Denver.
The possibility of still making the spa trip tempted her. At least she’d be with people she knew for the holiday. In Vegas it’d be up to her to find someone. And that would take energy and effort. Effort she didn’t feel like putting forth right now.
“You’re not being fair—or nice,” Ellen said.
And you’re just figuring this out?
Tara turned away from the window, heading toward the kitchen, intending to join them. Ben’s disparaging comments aside, she decided the idea was worth discussing.
“I’m being completely fair,” Ben said. “I should have said, ‘If we had another
man
to come with us.’ Because if we hit a storm, I’m the one who’ll end up needing help. And I’m pretty darn sure that woman couldn’t change a tire to save her life.”
It was the nudge she needed to make up her mind.
“Actually,” Tara said, smiling sweetly as she stood in the wide doorway between the family room and the kitchen, “I can.”
Seven
“Have fun,” Ellen called, waving from the front step.
Fun. Oh yeah, shopping with Farmer Ben should be real fun.
Tara picked her way down the icy driveway. She’d hinted to Ben that he might want to change his overalls before going out, but his only response had been a rude comment about
her
attire.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Ben didn’t bother to hide his irritation as he climbed into the van and started the engine.
“That makes two of us,” Tara said, getting in on her side.
But I’m desperate, and hitching a ride with you will get me to the girlfriends in time for Christmas.
But she couldn’t hitch a ride dressed as she was now. If she was freezing here in the city, traveling through the mountains might literally kill her—or give her frostbite on her legs, anyway. She reached for the seat belt, buckling herself into the front passenger seat of Ellen’s minivan as Ben backed it out the driveway.
He drove in silence and a little too fast, winding his way through holiday traffic to the nearest mall. Privately, Tara was impressed with his skill. He could have held his own during rush hour in LA. Not bad, considering he probably spent most of his time driving a tractor.
A few minutes later she lurched forward then back as the van came to an abrupt halt in front of Sears. Her heart sank. She couldn’t remember ever having shopped at Sears, but she was pretty certain they were known for things like drills, saws, and riding lawnmowers.
“You want me to wear a tool belt?” She wasn’t trying to be funny.
“They sell clothes here,” Ben said.
Eying his plaid shirt, she imagined just the kind of clothing he was talking about. Turning around in her seat, she searched the store names on the building, hoping against hope there was a Saks or Nordstrom nearby—or at least a Macy’s.
“I’ll be back in an hour.” Ben pulled out his wallet and thumbed through it, taking out the few bills inside. “Here’s forty-seven dollars.” He slapped the cash into her hand. “I’ll meet you here at 7:30.”
She stared at the money.
He’s kidding, right?
“
One
hour?
Forty-seven
dollars?”
And Sears?
she wanted to add but didn’t. “You can’t be serious.”
Ben gave her a look that said he was. “Fifty-nine minutes,” he said, glancing at the dashboard clock. “I’ve still got to help Ellen with some things, and I want to get to bed early. We have a long drive tomorrow.”
Tara shook her head. “I’m sorry, but what you’re asking is impossible. Do you know nothing about shopping? First of all, look at this parking lot. The line at the register is going to be a half hour by itself.”
“Better choose your clothes fast, then,” Ben said unsympathetically. He rolled down the driver’s side window, waving another car around them. “I’m blocking traffic, and you’re wasting time.”
Tara didn’t budge. “When was the last time you set foot inside a mall?” she demanded. “I’ll be doing good to get socks and underwear for forty-seven bucks. There’s absolutely no way I’ll be able to get jeans and a sweater too.”
“At Sears you can.” Ben’s forehead wrinkled, and he pressed his lips together as the driver behind them honked. “And if by chance I’m mistaken, then I suggest you get long johns. Now are you going to get out or not?”
“Not.” Tara folded her arms across her chest. “I know you think I’m being difficult, but you really don’t understand.”
“You’re right. You’re extremely difficult—a real pain.” Ben drove forward. “And I don’t understand how I let my sister talk me into taking you with us. But if she wants to do this so bad,
she
can take you shopping. I’ll stay home. Dealing with three cranky kids beats this any day.”
Tara felt her anger rising to match his, but she tried to remind herself he was just an ignorant farmer. It was up to her to educate him on the ways of the world—or the way of the mall, at least.
She reached out, placing a hand on his sleeve. “I’m grateful you’re taking me shopping. Really, I am. And I know I must seem unappreciative.”
“I’ll say.” Ben turned to look at her then her hand, which she hastily removed from his coat sleeve.
“I’m sure that wherever it is you buy your overalls, they probably don’t charge much. But women’s clothing is different. A decent pair of jeans, a sweater, socks, shoes—and everything else I’ll need for a day or two—is going to cost
at least
$200.”
And that’s really pushing it.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d purchased an outfit for so little. “I’ll repay every penny—with interest, if you’d like. I make good money. In the last quarter alone, I—”
“You don’t have to tell me what you make.” Ben pulled the van into an empty stall at the far end of the lot.
Right. It’d only hurt your ego.
Tara wondered what the average salary for a pig farmer was. If money was really tight for Ben, then this could be a problem. She’d tried talking to Ellen about borrowing a little money for clothes, but every time, one of her needy kids had interrupted.
Ben turned to face Tara. “You’re telling me that clothing you wear for one day is going to cost me two hundred dollars?”
“At least,” Tara said. “But you’ll get your money back. Think of this as a loan.”
“It’s not the loan part that’s bothering me,” Ben said. “It’s ridiculous that you’d spend so much on jeans and a sweatshirt.”
Tara shrugged. “Sorry. But that’s the way it is. In the city, things are different. As I said, I’m sure farm country—or wherever it was you got your overalls—isn’t the same.”
“The place I bought—” Ben paused, then a slow, sly grin lit his face. He turned away, put the car into gear, and drove forward.
“Oh, no,” Tara said, alarmed by his sudden smile. “No overalls for me.”
“Of course not,” Ben said. “You can have your jeans and sweatshirt.”
“Sweater,” Tara amended. She wasn’t about to show up in Boulder wearing fleece.
“Sweater,” Ben agreed, turning toward her. “Maybe even cashmere, if you’d like. And we should get you a jacket, too. A nice leather one. Maybe some shoes as well; those heels aren’t going to be practical if you end up having to change a tire.”
“You’re scaring me,” Tara said, noting the positively evil glint in Ben’s eye, reflected by the stoplight.
“Don’t worry.” Ben reached out, touching her sleeve as she’d touched his. “I’m grateful you took the time to educate me on what it costs to outfit a woman from LA. And now I’m happy to show you what it cost to outfit my mother here in Utah.”
* * *
“One hour. Forty-seven dollars,” Ben repeated as he parked in front of a large, white building.
“What is this place?” Tara asked, once again not making any move to get out of the van.
Your first lesson in humility
. “It’s a great store. Lots of name brands.” Ben hopped out of the van and came around to Tara’s side. He intended to walk her into the store—partly so he could make sure she didn’t slip and fall in her ridiculous shoes and cause him even more trouble, and partly so he could see her reaction when she realized where he’d taken her.
He opened her door and held a hand out.
She continued to look at him suspiciously but allowed him to help her from the car.
“Deseret Industries,” she read as they made their way to the building.
“DI for short. You can find anything here.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” Tara said. “Must not be a chain.”
“Oh, they’ve got them in Utah, Idaho, Arizona,” Ben said. “The Church runs them. People donate their clothing and other items, and the employees are often people who need job training or other support.”
“Wait.” Tara stared at him. “Did you say
donate
? People
donate
their clothing? Is this a—a
thrift
store?”
“Yep. You’d better get going. Sometimes it takes a while to pick through things here. It isn’t every day you come across a real find—like these overalls—right off the bat.” Ben nodded toward the store.
“You want me to shop here for—
used
—clothes?”
“The correct term is
secondhand
, and yes, I do. You’ll be able to get everything you need for forty-seven dollars. And I expect change when you’re done.”
Tara was speechless as they continued to walk toward the entrance. Ben was grateful for the slushy parking lot and glad he’d held on to her arm after she got out of the van. It made half-dragging her a little easier. Oh, how he’d love to see her shopping in there.
Why not?
he thought. He’d planned to go to the auto parts store and look at chains for the moving truck while Tara shopped, but they could do that afterward. The opportunity to see Ms. Stuck-up having to shop secondhand was too much to resist.
As soon as they’d made it inside the store, he let go of her and went to get a cart. When he returned a minute later, she stood in the same spot, a dazed look on her face as she took in the racks of merchandise, the shoppers, the cashiers. Her gaze settled on a family with about a half dozen ragged-looking kids. Their cart was piled high with clothing and toys, and the children clamored around their parents excitedly as they made their way to the register.
Tara’s eyes followed them through the entire checkout process, right up to the point when the father handed the cashier a commodities form.
So she’s not just rude to me, she’s just plain
rude, Ben thought.
Has no one ever taught her it isn’t polite to stare?
He was about to explain it himself when she turned to the right and the women’s section. They both stopped short as she caught him watching her, and he caught her once again with misty eyes.
Cry all you want, sweetheart. Those tears won’t work on me.
“Nothing here is going to bite, you know.”
Tara nodded, her lips pressed together as if she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Was she really that appalled that it brought her to tears?
Good grief.
He felt more disgusted than ever with the female by his side. It was tempting to steer her toward the ugliest stuff he could find. Heck, she
deserved
overalls. Muck-covered, filthy ones at that.