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Hands already washed and dried in anticipation of this, Winnie stepped out from the counter. “Hello, Olive. Why don’t we sit down?”
She led Olive to an empty booth at the back. Relax. Stay calm, she advised herself. It would be easier, she hoped, to deal with Olive here than it had been at the wedding.
Her café was a warm, welcoming place, painted and decorated in the colors of the foods Winnie loved most: caramel, chocolate, vanilla and, of course, cinnamon. The booths were nestled up to wooden-framed windows that overlooked the picturesque Coffee Creek for which the town had been named.
In the spring and summer, the water had a translucent topaz color, which some more prosaic types likened to the color of weak coffee.
In the winter, though, ice and snow crept up from the banks of the creek, and the cold streaming water looked more gray than brown.
“I was hoping to meet my grandson today,” Olive said, without preamble. “Finally.”
“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear. Afternoon is the best time for visits. Around two-thirty, after I finish work.”
“So where is he now?” Olive glanced around as if expecting to see him.
“At Linda Hunter’s. She’s his new babysitter.”
Olive frowned. “The whole town is going to have met that child before me.”
“What are you doing later today?”
“I’ll be at home, going over the accounts, probably.”
“I could bring him out to Coffee Creek Ranch for a visit.”
Olive’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you could stay for dinner?”
Winnie forced a smile. “Sure. When would you like us? We can come anytime after four.”
“How about five, then? We’ll eat early so you can get Bobby home at a decent time.” Olive started to rise, then hesitated. “Maybe you could take a look at Brock’s cabin while you’re at the ranch. I was thinking it might make a good home for you and Bobby.”
Winnie had heard rumors that Olive wanted her and Bobby to live on Coffee Creek Ranch. Years ago Bob Lambert had built three cabins alongside a small lake on the ranch for Brock, B.J. and Corb.
Since Brock’s death, his cabin had been vacant—but moving in there had very little appeal to Winnie. “That’s a very kind offer. But my apartment is fine for now. Nice and close to work and Bobby’s babysitter.”
“Corb, Laurel and Stephanie are very comfortable in their cabin. And I’m sure you’d love living so close to them.”
That part was true. But it was living near Olive that had her worried.
“Trust me, your son will be a lot happier growing up on a ranch than he would be in town. Don’t you think it’s what Brock would have wanted?”
Winnie didn’t know what to say to that. Olive had a point. Brock probably would want her and Bobby to move to his cabin.
“In fact—” Olive’s eyes sparkled as an idea struck her “—why don’t I ask Bonny to freshen up the place today and then Corb can drive his truck into town and help you pack? I bet we could get most of your belongings moved tonight.”
Tonight.
Tonight?
“But—” Winnie floundered.
“I’ll stop in at Molly’s Market and pick up some groceries to stock your cupboards and the fridge. And I’m sure—”
“Wait,” Winnie finally said. “This is such a kind offer. But may I think about it a few days?”
“What’s to think about? I’m not just offering you a place to live, Winnie. I plan to sign over the papers. The cottage will belong to you, free and clear.”
It was incredibly generous. And yet, to Winnie, it still felt like a trap.
Olive placed her hand over Winnie’s. “You’re a mother now. And mothers put their children’s needs before their own. I’m sure it’s convenient for you to be close to your work. But think about Bobby. Your apartment is just too small. I’ve had three sons, so I know what boys need, and that’s space. Room to play and run and explore.”
Winnie stared mutely at Brock’s mother. In the back of her mind she registered the fact that the ladies in the booth beside them had left and some new customers had come in. But she didn’t look up to see who they were, or if Dawn needed help.
Right now all she could focus on was Olive.
The older woman had hit a nerve when she’d said a mother had to put her child’s interests first.
Was she being selfish by not taking Olive up on her offer?
“Maybe when Bobby’s older we could move into Brock’s cabin,” she finally said. “But he’s still small. My apartment is fine for now.”
Olive must have been so sure she was winning her case. Now her brow furrowed with consternation. “Are you serious? But isn’t it a one bedroom?”
Winnie didn’t want to answer. Because she knew Olive was right, that she needed a bigger space. There had to be another solution. If only—
And then, suddenly and unbelievably, Jackson was standing by their table. Winnie gazed up from his boots, to his worn jeans, his open jacket, his guarded face. He touched the tip of his hat. “Olive.” He nodded to the older woman, then to her. “Winnie.”
“Hello, Jackson.” Olive’s greeting was clipped. She clearly wasn’t pleased at the interruption.
But Winnie sure was. “Hi there, Jackson. Why don’t you sit down while I bring you both some coffee and cinnamon buns?”
“I didn’t come for food,” Jackson said quickly. “Just wondered when you wanted me to start work on that second bedroom for the apartment.”
She stared at him blankly. But only for a second. And then she smiled. “The sooner, the better.”
“This week is looking good. If I got some measurements now, I could have the supplies by Friday.”
“Sounds perfect.” Winnie turned back to Olive. “Bobby and I are going to be okay for the time being. But I do appreciate your offer. And I will definitely keep it in mind.”
Olive gathered her purse, then stood. Her gaze flickered sharply from Jackson to Winnie, then back again. She wasn’t a woman who liked losing. And Winnie could tell she wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet.
“We’ll talk about this some more over dinner tonight.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.
* * *
“WHAT A HERO. Thank you.” Winnie gave Jackson a grateful smile after Olive left the café. “Let me at least get you a coffee for the road.”
“It was nothing. Don’t bother.” She looked so pretty today in a soft blue sweater and jeans. He liked the way she wore her clothes. They hugged her curves without being so tight they looked like they’d shrunk in the wash. Suddenly remembering he shouldn’t even be noticing, he raised his gaze and followed her back to the kitchen.
“How did you guess that Olive had me cornered?”
“Been there myself, far too many times.”
“That was a brilliant cover story. Wish I could think so fast on my feet.” Ignoring his refusal, she poured coffee in a to-go cup, snapped on a cover then tried to hand it to him.
“I don’t—”
“—like coffee,” she finished. “Right. You’re forgetting I know you. I’ve seen you come in from the barn and head straight to the coffeemaker in the Lamberts’ kitchen. Black, right?”
“No thanks,” he insisted. Avoiding this place had always taken an enormous amount of willpower on his part. He had a feeling that once he tasted her coffee it would be even harder. “By the way, I wasn’t just blowing smoke with that offer.”
She put a hand on one of her curvy hips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I can make you a second bedroom up there.”
She looked puzzled. “You can? But have you even seen the apartment?”
She’d invested an inheritance from her grandmother into the building several years ago, after she and Brock were engaged. The charming brick house on Main Street had seemed perfect at the time. She’d opened her café on the main floor and planned to live in the second-floor apartment until the wedding, after which she’d move to the ranch with Brock and find a renter for her apartment.
Things hadn’t worked out that way. But that had been the plan.
“Brock showed me around once, before you moved in. There’s an L-shaped living room, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, if we built a wall, you could have a separate room for Bobby. It would be small. But then, so is he, right?”
“Are you serious? You’d really do this for us?”
“Sure.” He didn’t believe he could atone for Brock’s death. But he could help his son—not to mention the woman who had been left standing at the altar. In fact, he felt obliged to do so. “It won’t take long. A few weeks. And I’d time the work for when you and Bobby are out.”
That would be a key part of the arrangement. The last thing he was trying to do here was spend more time with Winnie.
“I’m planning to work every day from ten to two. Bobby will be out at his babysitter’s.”
“Perfect. I’ll come by after morning chores and be back in time for the evening ones.” Luckily, being November, there wasn’t that much going on at the ranch. And he’d still have evenings to spend with Maddie. The sickly woman was no longer able to go out, and he usually made them supper, after which they played a round of cribbage then watched the news.
It was a simple, unexciting existence. But he felt good, knowing that his presence made a real difference to Maddie Turner’s life. Plus the older woman was pleasant company, undemanding even in her poor state of health.
“Let’s take a quick look right now. If you have time?”
He hesitated only a second. “Sure.”
They went up the back set of stairs to a small landing with a single door. It wasn’t locked, and soon they were in Winnie’s cheery apartment. Unlike the café, which was decorated in the warm, muted colors of autumn, this space had been painted white. Bright turquoise, tangerine and yellow cushions, and some framed posters on the walls added vivacity and made the space seem very much hers.
It didn’t take long for Winnie to show him around.
And it took even less time for him to realize that the space really was too small for her and her son. The problem was all the baby paraphernalia. There was a high chair in the kitchen. One of those baby jumping contraptions in the arched hallway. And toys everywhere.
“Sorry.” Winnie picked up a fire truck and placed it in a large plastic tub. “We were rushed this morning and didn’t have time to tidy up.”
“Maybe you should consider Olive’s offer. You’d have a lot more room in Brock’s cabin.”
Winnie glanced around the apartment, then sighed. “It is pretty crazy, isn’t it? But can I be honest with you?”
His heart thudded, warning him of potential danger. But he nodded, all the same.
“I loved Brock very much and a part of me probably always will. But I’m twenty-eight years old. I may be a single mother, and that adds complications, but eventually I’m going to want to date again. Who knows, I may even fall in love.”
She glanced at her hands, and for the first time Jackson noticed that while she still wore Brock’s ring, it was on the other hand now. “I could even get married,” she added softly.
Jackson could well imagine all of the above happening. And a dark envy for this unnamed man filled him with a wave of anger. He waited for the emotion to recede. “I’m sure none of the Lamberts expect you to grieve for Brock forever.”
“Besides Olive, you mean?”
He grinned.
“I’m sure you’re right. They’re good people. And Olive is making a generous offer. The cabin is gorgeous and I’d be next door to my best friend.... But can you imagine me inviting a new man out there? How could I possibly start dating right under the eyes of all those Lamberts?”
“I get it.” And he did. For as wonderful as the Lamberts were, they could also be overpowering. If she moved out to the ranch, he could well see Winnie’s social life being dominated by family events and gatherings.
Much the way his own had been before he moved to Maddie Turner’s.
He realized then that he had to make this work for her. He surveyed the room again, then nodded. “We’ll put the wall here.” He demonstrated with his hands. “And the door here.”
Winnie narrowed her eyes. Visualizing. “Yes. I like that idea. Are you sure it won’t take too much of your time?”
“Pretty straightforward job, actually.”
As long as he kept his distance and didn’t start imagining himself as the man she might start dating.
Chapter Four
As Winnie drove over the cattle guard on her way to the Lamberts’ ranch later that afternoon, the car shook and rattled. She glanced at her son, buckled into his car seat in the back. His eyes were huge, his face serious. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
He returned her smile, obviously reassured that nothing was wrong.
“Those bumps keep the cows from getting off the ranch,” she explained. “Now we drive over a bridge and the car will shake again.”
The wooden bridge crossed over one of several unnamed creeks on the property. She drove up the final rise, then stopped the SUV and looked down at the snow-covered ranch, remembering the first time Brock had brought her here.
They’d just returned from a camping trip to Yellowstone, where he’d surprised her with a romantic moonlit proposal. He’d been anxious to make an official announcement to his family, but he’d taken the time to stop in this very spot.
“Your daddy was so proud of this place.” In her mind she could hear Brock’s voice. This land has belonged to our family since the mid-1800s.
Winnie had been impressed. Then and now. She’d grown up on a modest farm where they’d had a house, a barn that housed three milking cows, a shop and a shed for the tractor and farm equipment. But Coffee Creek had at least a dozen buildings, all painted white with green metal roofs. The network of outbuildings, pens, chutes and pastures filled the hollow of the wide valley.
