On Lone Star Trail (13 page)

TJ hated study halls. They were supposed to give teachers a break, but what they gave him was too much time to think. Thoughts had been roiling through his mind ever since he and Gillian had talked. Predictably, he hadn't fallen asleep until late last night. As a result, for the second time since he'd arrived at Rainbow's End, he'd overslept, making him so late that he'd missed breakfast. Maybe if he had had a chance to see Gillian again he might not be so preoccupied now, but as it was, nothing he did stopped his thoughts from racing in what seemed like circles.

As one of the students crumpled a piece of paper and prepared to attempt a hoop shot into the wastebasket from the back of the room, TJ frowned. That was enough to stop the boy. It did not stop his thoughts.

He probably shouldn't have included Deb's picture in last night's show. He'd debated about it when he'd been assembling the slides and had included it at the last minute, because it was the best shot he had of the mud pots. He'd justified his decision by telling himself there was no reason for the kids to comment on her. After all, there were tourists in other pictures. But somehow the teens had realized that Deb wasn't a person who just happened to be in the frame. She was special.

He could have lied, claiming he didn't know the woman's identity, but lies had never come easily to TJ, and so he'd blurted out the truth. And that had led to his conversation with Gillian.

Though he'd been able to squelch the kids' questions, discouraging them as easily as he'd stopped the would-be basketball player, Gillian was different. As soon as the words had popped out of his mouth, he'd known she would ask about Deb. What TJ hadn't expected was his reaction to Gillian's response.

In the past, talking about Deb had only deepened his pain and stoked his anger, reminding him of all he'd lost. That was the reason he'd made a point of never even hinting that he'd once been married. He didn't want pity, because it only made him feel worse.

Last night had been different. Gillian's soft words and that solitary tear that had touched him in ways mere words could not had been like a soothing balm. For the first time, it had felt right to be speaking of Deb. And for the first time, memories had brought peace rather than regret.

He'd lain awake last night with memories of Deb whirling through his brain, changing like the patterns of a kaleidoscope, and interspersed with images of Deb smiling at the sight of a moose emerging from a willow thicket, long strands of grass dripping from its mouth, was the memory of Gillian's tear. For the first time, TJ felt as if the healing had begun.

H
ow's Junior or Juniorette or whatever you're calling the baby this morning?” Gillian stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee as she took her favorite seat in Kate's apartment.

Though Kate had told her that a colleague and her husband referred to their unborn child as Peanut, Kate and Greg hadn't chosen a nickname for theirs. And, since they'd chosen not to know the gender, they alternated between “he” and “she” when referring to it.

“Rambunctious,” Kate replied with a wry smile. “She's decided that the middle of the night is playtime, which means Mommy doesn't get much sleep.” Kate patted her baby bump, her lips curving into a smile of pure delight as the baby kicked again. “I can't believe I still have seven weeks to go. I can only imagine how big I'll be by then.”

“But you're loving every minute of it.” Gillian had never seen Kate so happy, and though she'd heard some expectant mothers described as radiant, this was the first time she had ever seen one. Kate was definitely radiant, glowing, and any number of other positive adjectives.

“I didn't love morning sickness, and I miss caffeine,” she said
with a frown at her cup of herbal tea, “but other than that, it's been an amazing experience. You'll see when it's your turn.”

Gillian feigned indignation. “Now you're sounding like the Matchers. Even Sally appears to be climbing on their bandwagon. She seems to believe that since Rainbow's End brought both you and Marisa a happily-ever-after, I should be the next bride. Next thing I know, one of you will be picking out a husband for me.”

“C'mon, Gillian.” Kate pushed the plate of muffins toward Gillian as a peace offering. “You know me better than that. It's true I hope you find a man who'll make you as happy as Greg has made me, but I'm not going to push you.” She paused for a beat before adding, “Too hard.”

When Gillian chuckled, Kate said, “I'm not sure you need a push,” and for a second Gillian wondered whether Kate had somehow realized how often Gillian's thoughts turned to TJ.

She'd told herself it was only natural that she would worry about a man who'd lost so much, but that did not explain why she dreamt about him last night. In her dream, TJ had seemed carefree as they'd waited in line to board the Maid of the Mist, and when the boat had taken them to the foot of Niagara Falls, he'd laughed. The laughter had been wonderful, but it was what happened next that haunted Gillian's thoughts. TJ had wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her close and tipping her face toward his. She'd been certain he was going to kiss her, but before their lips touched, the alarm clock had jolted her awake.

As she felt her cheeks redden at the memory, Gillian took another sip of coffee, trying to hide her reaction to the dream. It was only a dream, she told herself. It meant nothing.

Kate's chuckle deepened. “If I'm not mistaken, there's some extra color on your cheeks and a twinkle in your eye this morning. Should I guess who put them there?”

Kate might be her best friend, but there was no way Gillian
was going to tell her about that silly dream. “You can try, but I think you'll be surprised.”

“Be surprised by what?” Marisa asked as she hurried into the apartment, glancing at her watch.

“I'm speculating on the reason Gillian looks so happy today. At first I thought it was Mike Tarkett, but now I'm beginning to suspect it's related to the reason she asked me to invite you here for coffee.”

Thankful that the redirection had worked, Gillian waited until Marisa poured herself a cup of coffee and settled into one of the overstuffed chairs before she spoke. “You're right, Kate. If there's a twinkle in my eye, it was caused by two women—Linda and a woman whose name I don't know. I just think of her as Silver.” Even though she'd never dreamt about them, when she was awake, Gillian's thoughts turned toward the two women almost as often as they did toward TJ.

“The second one must be Sheila.” Marisa nodded knowingly. “They're sisters-in-law and do almost everything together.”

“They came into the store twice this week.” Gillian smiled at Marisa as she said, “They bought a couple books, but what got me started thinking were their comments—more like complaints—that there's nothing for seniors to do in Dupree.”

Kate turned to Marisa. “Sally hasn't said anything to me, so I haven't given it much thought. I know she's excited about the idea of a book club.”

“Because that's the only activity available.”

Kate seemed surprised by Gillian's comment. “What do you think, Marisa? Is that true?”

“Probably. Some people play golf, but that's the only other thing I can think of.”

And that was the problem. A once-a-month book club or an occasional golf game wasn't enough, especially since some seniors didn't enjoy reading or golf. The thought of people being stuck at home with little to do other than watch TV bothered Gillian.

“What if there were a place where they could gather?” she asked. “Not the church fellowship hall or a room at the library but something special for them.”

“A senior center.” Kate looked pensive as she sipped her tea.

“Exactly. I keep thinking it's like
Field of Dreams
. You know the line about if you build it, they will come. The good thing about Dupree is we don't have to build it. There are plenty of empty stores just waiting for someone to use them. Why not the seniors?”

“I think it's a great idea.” Marisa punctuated her sentence with an enthusiastic two thumbs-up.

“I agree.” Kate rubbed her belly as she said, “Greg and I can help with funding, but I'm afraid I can't offer much else. The doctor doesn't want me to drive or do much of anything other than wait for the baby to make his appearance.”

Marisa nodded slowly. “I can't offer the kind of money Kate can, but I can show you what I had to do to get Hill Country Pages ready for business. It's not too hard to start a business in Dupree, and nonprofits are even easier, but it never hurts to have someone show you the ropes.”

Their approval was exactly what Gillian had hoped for. She'd tossed the concept around in her mind, trying to find reasons why it wouldn't work, but all the thinking she'd done had merely solidified her belief that a senior center was a good idea. “So you think we should do this?”

“We?” Kate raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I think
you
should do it. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you came up here with plans almost done and what you wanted from Marisa and me was confirmation that it's a good idea. Am I right?”

“You are.”

Gillian had spent the lulls between customers thinking about Marisa's explanation of the business permitting process. She'd
updated her list and made two new ones, and all the while, her eyes kept returning to the empty store directly across the street from Hill Country Pages.

It was no different from half a dozen other vacant buildings, but the location appealed to Gillian. It was close to the bookstore and Hill Country Pieces, the town's quilt shop, both of which drew women to this part of Pecan Street. And it was next door to Sam's Bootery.

Though Gillian doubted they all needed new boots, she'd seen a number of older men enter the store and remain for an hour or so. What they did inside was a mystery, which was part of the reason Gillian headed for the bootery as soon as she turned Hill Country Pages over to the teenager who'd arrived for the second shift.

“How can I help you?”

Gillian blinked as her eyes adjusted to the relative darkness of the store. The smells of leather and polish competed with the fragrance from a large bouquet of hyacinths on one corner of the counter, but what caught Gillian's attention was that the person behind the counter was a beautiful young woman, not the grizzled man she'd expected. Though Gillian had seen the woman's face on the boot advertising the store, she had assumed the woman was a model, not someone who worked there.

Extending her hand, she said, “I'm Gillian Hodge and I'm looking for Sam Dexter.”

The woman smiled. “You're in the right place. I'm Sam Dexter. Samantha, actually. My dad's the original Sam, but the business is mine now.”

“Now I see why so many men come here.” Gillian would have thought that Samantha's combination of light brown hair, blue eyes, and classic features made her a candidate for a modeling career rather than running a bootery in a small Texas town.

“Older men?” Samantha raised a carefully shaped eyebrow. “If you think they come to see me, you're mistaken. They're
looking for a game of chess or checkers.” She gestured toward the back of the store. “Dad has a table set up most of the time.”

It was the perfect segue. “That's really what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm hoping to start a senior center in Dupree. At this point, nothing's decided, but I envision a place for chess and checkers and lots of other activities.”

Gillian gestured in the direction of the empty store next door. “That location seemed ideal to me, but now I'm not so sure. If you have plans to expand or if your father doesn't want anything to compete with his games, I'll look for another spot.”

“A senior center.” Samantha nodded slowly. “I wonder why no one thought of that before. Dupree could definitely use one.”

She tipped her head to one side, listening to the sound of men's voices emerging from the back of the store. “To tell you the truth, I suspect Dad would be just as happy if the men had another place to play. My mom thinks he ought to be spending more time with her now that he's retired, but he hates to disappoint his buddies. Half the time Dad doesn't play—just watches the other guys.”

“So a different location would help him.”

“Definitely.” Samantha gave Gillian a conspiratorial grin. “Me too. They're nice guys, but sometimes they're a little, shall we say, nosy.”

Gillian had no trouble imagining that. “What about the store next door? Do you have any plans for that?”

Samantha shook her head. “Business is great, but we have no need to expand. So I say, go ahead. It's a good idea.”

As relief washed over Gillian, she realized how much she'd wanted that particular location. While it was true, as she'd told Kate and Marisa, that there were many empty stores from which to choose, this one had caught her eye and her imagination and had refused to let go.

“Do you happen to know who owns the building?” Given the town's size, Gillian would have been surprised if Samantha did not.

A laugh was her response. “I sure do.” She turned toward the back room and called out, “Dad, Gillian Hodge wants to talk to you about turning the store next door into a senior center.”

“What's this about a senior center?” The man who emerged from the back followed by the two men Gillian had seen entering the store an hour ago had Samantha's blue eyes, but his hair had turned gun-metal gray, and his shoulders were slightly slumped, perhaps from years of hunching over a work table.

When Gillian completed her explanation, she said, “I wondered if you'd be willing to rent it out.”

Sam Senior turned to the other men. “Seems to me you guys have a chess game to finish while this lady and I tend to business.”

Recognizing the dismissal, the men headed to the back room. Sam lowered his voice as he addressed Gillian. “If you start a senior center, will my buddies have a place to play chess?” His expression gave no indication of whether he favored the idea.

“I understand that they already do.”

“An official place with room for more than one game?” This was beginning to sound like an interrogation.

Gillian nodded. “Chess, checkers, and other things. Some of the women are interested in starting a book club, and the center would give them a place to meet. If I can find an instructor, I thought we might offer yoga and tai chi. We'd have to charge for those separately from the monthly membership fee, but I don't think the classes would be too expensive.”