The Second Chance Café (Hope Springs, #1) (22 page)

A wry smile crept over Indiana’s mouth. “Oh, I doubt he minds. He likes to help and, well, not to be jumping to conclusions, but you’re exactly his type. Or what I last knew to be his type, anyway.”

Warmth spread over Kaylie’s chest, up her neck, along her hairline, prickling uncomfortably. Talking about Ten to Luna hadn’t caused this sort of awkwardness, but then Ten wasn’t Luna’s brother. “He’s made it a lot easier for me to navigate the local waters. Things have changed a lot since I lived here before. I’m still getting my sea legs, as it were.”

“I didn’t know you’d lived here before.”

Meaning Ten hadn’t talked about her to his sister. And that realization brought with it a frown. “What exactly did Ten say in the message he left you? I’m really hoping he didn’t beg a favor because you’re family. If you don’t normally provide this sort of consultation—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Indy said, waving her off. “I have to meet a vendor in San Antonio this afternoon, so I’d already cleared my calendar today. As long as I’m not imposing on you by showing up unannounced, we’re good.”

That didn’t exactly answer her question. “I don’t even remember what imposing means. I’ve had people coming and going for two weeks now. Which is another reason I’m waiting to move in my things. I’m just using the bedroom and I’m rarely out of sight of my laptop…”

“Oops,” Indy said, and Kaylie laughed.

“It’s okay. No one’s inside at the moment except for Ten. And probably Will. I haven’t seen him, but they usually show up about the same time.”

“Will, huh? Is he one of Ten’s pet projects?”

Did that mean that even though she wasn’t in contact with her brother, Indiana knew about the parolees? “He just came to work for him recently,” she said but left it at that. She was still working through what she felt about Ten’s outreach.

“Ignore me,” Indy said a few moments later, blowing out a breath heavy with exasperation. “I shouldn’t be digging for news on what’s going on with him.”

At the sound of Magoo’s bark, Kaylie turned, needing a moment to get her bearings. He was racing toward her, obviously freed by someone going into or out of the house. She walked backward as he ran up to her, bending to snuggle his face before he bounded off again.

“I’m sorry Ten doesn’t stay in touch,” she finally said to Indiana.

“Love the dog,” the other woman replied, then, after watching Magoo nose at the ground, added, “Ten seems to think keeping his distance is the best way to hold the family drama to a minimum, or so I’m assuming, since I honestly don’t know what he thinks. But his telling you about what happened…I really want to take that as a sign that he’s coming around and getting over this whole guilt-trip thing.”

Kaylie didn’t want to give the other woman false hope. Everything she’d learned about Ten said he was mired in self-blame. “He did tell me about Dakota, but he only volunteered the information after one of the women I interviewed for the cook’s position let it slip.”

“Or wanted you to know what you were getting into?”

“I suppose that could be the case, but it seemed very innocent.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was. I’m the cynical Keller. You’ll have to forgive me. Change of subject.” She waved both arms in an arc. “How big is your lot, and how do you feel about taking out trees?”

Not any better than Ten had felt about taking out walls. “It’s just over an acre, and I’d like to keep all the trees if I can.”

“You need direct sunlight for a garden to do you any good.”

That much she knew. “There’s a big spot that was cleared years ago. It’s where we played softball when I was a kid. It’s a mess of brush right now, with some smaller saplings I don’t mind getting rid of. But it’s close to the wooded acreage next door, so the wildlife might be too much of a problem.”

“We can take care of that with eco-friendly fencing and repellent, but you might want to consider a greenhouse. Show me the place and let’s see what you have to work with.”

The women spent the next thirty minutes walking the edge of Kaylie’s lot, and oh, the memories. The trees she’d climbed. The cozy little hideaways where she’d sat with a book, or slept, or daydreamed, or made notes about the brownies she’d taken to school, what the kids liked, what they thought gross and disgusting.

The trees were older, some brittle and broken with weather and time, some stronger than ever, and taller. If she scaled to the top, what would the view be like now? Would she see more than downtown Hope Springs? The spire on the top of the Main Street Bank? The bell that rang from the top of Second Baptist’s steeple?

Thinking about it now, she realized she hadn’t heard the bell since she’d been back. Next time she was in town, she’d
drive by and see if the building was still standing. And she’d ask Jessa or Dolly about Pastor Ross. If he’d been charged in the sex scandal that had driven him from town. Funny that she’d remember the gossip surrounding his downfall and so little else.

As they returned to the house, the conversation slowed, both women lost in thought, and then Indiana’s steps slowed, too. Kaylie glanced over, wondering what Ten’s sister was thinking. And then followed the direction of her gaze to where her brother stood, hands at his hips, watching the two of them make their way back to the house.

Ten was the first to speak. “You two have been gone long enough to get the garden planted and the first harvest in.”

Indiana looked over at Kaylie. “In case you haven’t run into this yet, Tennessee likes to keep an eye on things. Like clocks. And if you’re not careful, every move you make.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kaylie said, cutting her gaze back to Ten. The smile he had for his sister had her melting.

“Good to see you, Indy,” he said, stepping toward her.

She met him, an audible sob breaking in her throat, before he’d made it halfway. “You could’ve seen me anytime you wanted to, and you know that.”

And then her arms were around his waist, his around her shoulders, his cheek resting on top of her head and his eyes closed. Kaylie held one arm tight to her midsection, pressed the fingers of her other hand to her mouth. Why in the world would he deny himself this…veritable joy as he held Indy and rocked her and finally picked her up and twirled her around?

Indy beat her fists on his back, laughing and then stumbling backward when he finally let her down. “Don’t do that
again,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “And I don’t mean the hug. I mean the silence and the absence. Enough is enough.”

“We’ll see,” he said with a wink; then sobered, he added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to make up for what I let happen. The distance, not seeing you…it made it easier not to think about all of it. Except I’ve thought about it every day since.”

“You didn’t
let
anything happen, Ten. Stop beating yourself up. You have nothing to make up for, not to me or to Dakota. Well, nothing besides the distance thing.” She reached up and rubbed at his shoulder. “I couldn’t believe it when you called,” she was saying as Kaylie finally pulled herself together and walked closer. “I heard your voice on the machine and screamed so loud Anne, the girl in the office who keeps me sane, came running. She caught her shoe on the edge of her floor mat and sprained her foot, and now she’s on crutches, and I’m no longer sane. So you owe me.”

“Remind me not to leave you a message again.”

“You’d better leave me a message,” she said, slapping playfully at his biceps. Then slapping again, this time harder, with a little bit less play. “You’d better leave me tons of them.”

Ten gave her a lopsided grin, rubbing at his arm. “I guess this means I’ll be seeing a lot of you from now on?”

“More than you were ready for.”

“Did you decide on a spot for the garden?” he asked of Indy as he looked sheepishly at Kaylie.

“We did. I’m going to send out a crew to get started. Most likely it’ll be next week. And since we’re right on the
edge of when I like to plant, we’ll use starter plants rather than new seedlings.”

“Girding your loins against summer?”

“Something like that,” she said, her gaze drawn past Ten’s shoulder as Will Bowman came around the edge of the house, his arms hooked over the bundle of two-by-fours he held at his neck. Kaylie decided it made him look like he was in stocks, a visual she found inexplicably troublesome knowing where he’d been the last few years.

Ten followed the direction of her gaze and motioned the other man over. “Indy, this is Will Bowman. Will, my sister, Indiana Keller.”

“Mr. Bowman,” Indy said, offering him her hand.

“Ms. Keller,” he said, dropping the bundle to take it, giving off the same hungry vibes Kaylie had sensed the morning he’d met Luna.

She looked at Ten. Ten looked at her. She wasn’t sure which of them was the first to roll their eyes.

M
eadows Land sprawled over eighty-five rolling acres on the outskirts of Hope Springs. Kaylie made the trip alone, having left Magoo at home, pouting. She knew her dog, his friendly temperament, his loyal, protective nature, but was well aware his size and his teeth often gave strangers pause.

And then there was the fact that he put his own ninety-pound spin on rambunctious, which she just couldn’t see being compatible with kids in their Easter best. She promised him and herself she wouldn’t be gone long. And with a reluctant, hangdog sigh, he’d curled into a ball and watched her go.

Spending Easter Sunday relaxing, instead of working, with people she didn’t know wasn’t exactly how she’d thought she’d wind up the month. In fact, spending it in Magoo’s company would’ve been fine. And even though Indy Keller would have a crew out to put in the garden next week, Kaylie couldn’t imagine a better use of the quiet day than clearing the easily managed detritus from the area, leaving the larger downed limbs and buried stumps to the pros.

Winton Wise had been the one to plant in her the seeds of self-sufficiency and independence. While May had nurtured
her emotions, Winton had fed her practical nature, and the lessons had stuck. To this day she had no trouble changing the oil in her Jeep, or replacing a toilet’s ball cock, or installing a garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. She paid others who were more efficient to do those things, but in a pinch, she was there.

She also knew football and baseball, though Winton had never understood how to follow a rugby scrum. They’d laughed about it one day when rewiring May’s washing machine after a rat made its way into the mudroom and chewed through the cord. Dealing with the dead rodent had grossed out both of them, and they’d laughed about that, too, but only until May had tossed it into the yard and buried it, then ordered them to bleach every inch of the room.

Turning in at the sign to Meadows Land, Kaylie found herself swept gladly back in time. It had been forever since she’d thought of that day, the hilarity as May grumbled about having to be the one to change diapers and gut fish and now deal with a fried rat because Winton had no stomach for the squickier things in life.

Winton had apologized with a bouquet of sad wildflowers picked from the patch of yard set to be Kaylie’s garden. She’d remembered the picnics and softball games when walking the patch with Indy, but she’d forgotten about the sweet pastels, the blues, pinks, and yellows that had brought a very naughty smile to May’s face.

As she navigated the farm’s long, narrow road, Kaylie lowered her window. She breathed in air musky with grazing sheep and tiny lambs bouncing on springy little legs, and thought about true love. Not the love of exotic hothouse
blooms, but the day-to-day emotion binding two people. Love that saw past bouquets of thin wildflowers to the intent and the eyes behind. Strange thoughts to be having, she knew, but the last week of revelations shared with Luna and Ten, Dolly and Indiana, had left a strangeness in its wake.

Parking to one side of the paved circle in front of the house, she turned off the Jeep, pocketed her keys, and headed in the direction of the noise. It spilled from the yard behind the Meadowses’ sprawling stucco ranch. Smoke rose from a barbecue pit built out of a fifty-five-gallon drum, and monstrous bowls of potato and macaroni salads, baked beans, and buttered corn on the cob weighed down picnic tables covered in red-and-white gingham cloths.

At least two dozen kids scampered around in a flurry of spit-shined shoes and yellow-dotted Swiss and seersucker shorts and bow ties and cowboy boots. Kaylie smiled at their contagious exuberance, wondering if she’d ever been that young…and, of course, she had. Just never free to run like the wind when the Easter bunny had still been real.

She was late in arriving, the festivities already under way. Men stood huddled in groups of three and four near the beer kegs and ice chests, no doubt solving the problems of business and politics and sports. Women clustered in similarly sized groups near the tables of food, no doubt solving the problems of children and men and home, after which, she mused, they would tackle business and politics, and some of them sports.

Her smile widening, she glanced toward the far side of the yard, where the pit was set up at a distance from the big patio, and caught Mitch Pepper’s gaze. She lifted a hand in greeting. He returned her wave, hesitated, and then left
his tongs on a table next to several foil-covered platters and walked across the grass to meet her.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” he said when he drew close, almost as if he’d been waiting for her.

“I was slow to get moving this morning,” she admitted, shoving her hands in her pockets and breathing in the smell of smoke he brought with him. “It was so quiet around the house I didn’t want to leave. And I promised Magoo I’d be back by the time he finished his morning nap, so I probably won’t stay long.”

“Guess it’s been pretty noisy lately. The construction and all.”

“The construction. The deliveries. The installations, both Internet
and
an alarm system,” she said, getting an acknowledging nod in return. “I’m putting in a garden, too, so there’s been that planning. Plus all the interviews I’ve been doing for the cook’s position.”