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Tibby released her breath and spun away. She’d been anything but sweet to Cole since he’d arrived. But when he stood’as close to her as he was now…“You said you came here to shop, O’Donnell. Why don’t you hop to it and quit harassing the management?”
Cole tugged on one ear. Lowering his gaze, he racked his brain, trying to think of something he might have said or done to make her so prickly. In the end he decided the problem, whatever it was, lay with her. Since it was out of his control, he grabbed a cart and started down the aisle.
Glad to be free of the tension stretching between them, Tibby puttered while Cole made his selections. She watered the hanging baskets of fuchsia and geraniums that brightened the dark wood walls. She snapped dry leaves off the pothos and trailing ivy that lent a homey feel to the coffee bar and small beauty shop. Yet she knew at all times exactly where Cole was.
A few minutes later Tibby rang up Cole’s purchases and sent him on his way with one of her most professional smiles. Thankfully it was the last she saw of him all day.
When the golfers popped in that afternoon, they weren’t as talkative as usual. Pete and Fred muttered that as far as the wildlife went, she was making mountains out of molehills. They reminded her there were rabbits on the greens at Bogey Wells.
That night Tibby went to bed with a splitting headache.
It hung on for the rest of the week. A steady stream of travelers kept her unusually busy. So busy, she barely spoke to any of the men who came for coffee every morning.
During a lull that occurred on Saturday—the day Tibby finally decided business had slacked off enough for her to go to town—Cole dashed in. “I forgot to buy candles,” he said. “Do you carry the short fat kind? And I’ll need a bottle of good white wine.”
Tibby directed him to the proper aisles. She didn’t want to serve him today and checked her watch for at least the twentieth time, waiting for Justine. She was eager to get on with her mission.
Time dragged. No other customer came in to offer distraction. Cole walked up to the counter in that easy way of his that sent a whistle of awareness through Tibby’s midsection. Her best defense was to get mad at him and stay mad.
Fortunately he provided the opportunity as he took the first item from his basket and placed it on the counter. “I asked around like you suggested. No one remembers my grandfather donating land for the post office.”
“What?” Tibby stopped feeding prices into the cash register. She gripped a bottle of expensive coastal wine by the neck. “Who’d you ask, for pity’s sake?”
Cole rubbed his jaw. “The group that headed out to play golf this morning. I met them on the road and we stopped to talk.”
“You mean Joe Toliver, Pete Banks and Fred Feeny didn’t set you straight?”
“They were among the people I spoke with, yes.”
Tibby felt a stab of anger. Those men knew the truth. Why on earth wouldn’t they stand behind her? Had they forgotten what it was like driving forty miles to pick up mail? “I know the land was donated,” she said angrily. “So do they.”
Cole tugged a folded paper from his back pocket and dropped it on the counter. “This is a rough layout of the golf course, clubhouse and pro shop. If the interest is what I predict, later I’ll add a restaurant. So you see, I need that property desperately.”
“Need all you want. I wouldn’t start breaking ground if I were you unless you put the clubhouse somewhere else. You aren’t touching that post office, O’Donnell.”
“Look, I pawed through most of Gramps’s files over the week. He has receipts of transactions dating back twenty years and not one shred of evidence that he gave you the land. Unless you show me proof, I plan to start clearing.”
They were nose to nose, shouting, when Justine Banks scurried in. “Sorry I’m late, Tibby. We met at Winnie’s for coffee this morning. You know how she is when she climbs on her soapbox. Is something wrong? You two having a quarrel?”
Tibby stuffed Cole’s groceries in a sack. “That’s putting it mildly. Instead of entertaining out-of-town visitors he should close up Yale’s house and return to Hollywood, where sneaky double-dealing is a way of life.”
“Resorting to slander now, I see. I do have a witness.” Cole turned to Justine, and the older woman sort of puddled at his feet.
Tibby shoved the sack into his arms. “I believe you were leaving?” she said with sarcastic sweetness.
“Gladly. And don’t hold your breath waiting for me to darken your door again. I’d sooner drive the extra miles to shop in Brawley.”
Justine’s head whipped from one to the other like a baby bird seeking a worm. “My,” she said as the door slammed on Cole’s heels, “it’s like Winnie said not five minutes ago. Our community cohesiveness is going to heck in a handbasket.”
“It goes to show that the person who said one bad apple spoils the barrel knew what he was talking about.” Tibby glared at the door through which Cole had departed. “But don’t worry, Justine.” She patted the older woman’s arm. “Maybe later today I’ll have news to mend this rift once and for all.”
Justine blinked owlishly behind her round glasses. “Yes, Winnie made that same comment. What time will you be back, dear?”
“I hope by four. Help yourself to lunch and try some of that new raspberry-and-rosemary tea I bagged today. I think you’ll find it calming. You’ll need to make sandwiches for the lunch crowd. There are still two loaves of seven-grain bread and one of sourdough. Tomorrow I’ll bake again.”
“You go run your errands. I’ll do fine, Tibby. Take some time and pamper yourself. You’re always doing for us, child. Do something for yourself for a change.”
“Like what?” Tibby balanced on the balls of her feet near the door.
“Oh, a manicure or a new hairdo. You’ve worn a braid since you were fifteen.”
“It’s easy-care and keeps the hair out of my face when I work in the gardens or stocking shelves. What’s wrong with my braid?”
“Nothing, child. But if you gussied yourself up a little, maybe the O’Donnell boy would be more amenable to putting his clubhouse somewhere else. According to Emily Post, a man can’t refuse a well-turned-out woman anything.”
“First, I’m not a child and Cole O’Donnell isn’t a boy. And nobody goes by that old bunk today. There’s equality between the sexes now. And I, for one, don’t want Cole to put his clubhouse anywhere in Yaqui Springs. I’d rather he did sell to truck farmers. End of discussion, Justine. If I don’t hurry, I won’t be back in time for you to start Pete’s dinner. I know you like to have it ready when he comes home.”
“Not tonight. I’m mad at him, too.” She flushed. “My waiting on him is part of that old bunk you mentioned. I think I’ll give him a taste of this equality thing.”
Frowning, Tibby marched back to the counter and collected her sunglasses and the drawing Cole had given her of his proposed golf course. “Isn’t that pretty rash, Justine? Pete isn’t exactly a nineties man.”
The woman smiled and patted her gray chignon. “Don’t fret, dear. After nearly forty years of marriage, I know exactly how to enlighten him.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1ae56a76-31a9-553b-8d05-5f7ce2d215ac)
TIBBY COULDN’T BELIEVE she’d forgotten it was Saturday, and the land office was closed. Fortunately Gram’s attorney was in, but that visit proved nearly as fruitless; Lara had never mentioned the land transaction to him. However, the elderly Mr. Harcourt did provide Tibby with one ray of hope.
“I imagine there are strict rules and regulations concerning the relocation of a U.S. post office, Tibby. I’d be happy to file an injunction against O’Donnell to tie his hands until you get a ruling from the postmaster general’s office next week. However, it takes at least two working days to process an injunction. If I file Monday, it’d be Wednesday or so before the county served him.”
“Even that would help, Mr. Harcourt. He’s not at the digging stage, and I didn’t get the impression he’d rip out the building. He’s pressuring me to move it. But there’s no room on my property unless I stick it in the middle of my parking lot.”
“I’ll start the ball rolling, then. First thing Monday you get on the horn to Washington and see what they suggest. Meanwhile I’ll draft a letter telling O’Donnell of our intent to file the injunction. Sometimes that alone makes a person back off. If you’re going to be in town awhile, drop by later and pick it up.”
“I do have other things to take care of. I’ve decided to adopt a dog. The house is so quiet without Gram. I thought maybe a pet…Please point me in the direction of the shelter.”
“A pretty woman like you shouldn’t have to resort to canine companions. What’s wrong with the young men out there in Yaqui Springs?”
Tibby’s heart took a sinking dive as she thought of the only young man in Yaqui Springs. “It’s largely a retirement community, Mr. Harcourt. Not too many men my age retire.”
“Humph. Then if I were you, I’d sell Lara’s store and move. I recall her saying she wanted you to go away to college. Unfortunately, as we discussed after she passed away, she was badly advised financially and lost the bulk of her nest egg.”
“I love living in Yaqui Springs and I love running the store. I’d never sell it. I hope eventually to take some college correspondence courses. I’ve been checking into San Diego State. Now, about the animal shelter, Mr. Harcourt…”
“Yes…yes. But a dog hardly seems a fitting alternative to dating. Tell you what, my wife’s in charge of our church socials, and she teaches the young-adult Sundayschool class. I’ll have her send you an invitation to the next event. No matchmaking, understand. Just come and enjoy the company of men and women your own age.”
“That’d be nice. Thank you.” Tibby doubted she’d accept the offer. Unless the social was during the day. It was a dark lonely road to travel at night.
Harcourt drew her a map to the shelter. She thanked him again. “I’ll run by for the letter, say, at three?” He nodded and escorted her to the reception area.
Walking along the street to her car, Tibby caught her reflection in the window of a shoe store. Her steps slowed. Was her braid outdated? Or was it her loose-fitting cotton dresses? She’d noticed that both the secretary and receptionist in the attorney’s office wore suits with shorter skirts. No, by darn. Tibby gripped the shoulder strap of her purse. She liked her hair long, and she’d grown up wearing dresses. They were cool and comfortable, good for bending and stocking shelves.
Tibby stopped at a café for lunch. The place was crowded. The harried hostess acted as if it was a crime to eat alone when Tibby asked for single seating. Once they managed to squeeze her in, Tibby felt as if she had come with a crowd, since the tables were pushed so close together. Two couples on her left knew the people on her right, and talk more or less flowed over her.
As she dug into her salad, she realized that a majority of the men and women in the restaurant were paired up. Contemplating that, Tibby pretended interest in her forkful of greens. Before Justine and Mr. Harcourt had pointed out her social impairment, she’d never given it much thought. Was that how Cole saw her? Naive and inexperienced? A country mouse? He must know a bevy of sophisticated women.
Embarrassed at the thought, Tibby requested her check and left the majority of her lunch untouched. Awareness of her own inadequacies always made her heart trip over itself.
Only after she was safe in her station wagon did her heart settle and the trembling stop. Flirting wasted time. She had no need for such skills. A dog was what she needed to keep her company, and a dog she would have.
Less than half an hour later, she pulled into the shelter parking lot. Sharp barks and mournful baying pulsed from the building. Goodness, she thought as she entered the reception room, this might be a bad idea. So many dogs needing homes—how would she ever choose?
“May I help you?” A pretty girl with soft brown eyes greeted her over the din.
“I want to adopt a pet,” Tibby explained. “A dog.”
“A puppy, you mean?”
Tibby gave the question some thought. “Do you have any that are young but already trained?”
“We have a beautiful Pekingese. Very well mannered. Her owner died, and the woman’s daughter lives in an apartment where they don’t allow pets.”
“Oh, how sad.” Tibby’s heart turned over. “I had in mind something bigger, though. Like a guard dog.”
“That’s too bad. Peek-a-boo only has another twenty-four hours.” The girl’s brown eyes misted. “I’ve tried so hard to find her a home, but everyone I know is full up. I’ll even throw in food and a doggie dish.”
Tibby’s forehead puckered. “I know an elderly lady whose Yorkshire terrier died. She’d had her sixteen years. I wonder…She was brokenhearted. Still is.”
“Oh, do you think?” The girl sounded hopeful. “Could you call her?”
Tibby smiled. “I believe I’ll surprise her. It’s too easy to say no over the phone. It’s much harder to refuse a gift.”
“You’re a woman after my own heart. But I’ve given so many dogs as gifts, I’m almost out of friends.” The two shared a conspiratorial grin. “Now that Peek-a-boo has a home,” the receptionist said briskly, “let’s go choose you a pet.”
Tibby shook her head. “Do you mind picking one and bringing it out here? If I go in, I’ll want them all.”
“We have a young Great Dane. The man who brought him in claimed that when they got him they didn’t realize he’d grow so fast. It was a family of four, and all of a sudden they had twins. Between two babies and a growing pup needing attention, I guess it was too much.” She shook her head. “There are laws against giving away your kids, but people don’t think twice about dumping their pets.”
Tibby couldn’t bear to imagine what happened to throwaway pets. “The Dane sounds fine. May I see him, please?”
The girl disappeared through a set of double doors almost before Tibby finished speaking. The din rose unbearably. Tibby wondered how many dogs they had. A short time later the attendant returned. She cuddled a pugfaced champagne-gold dog. At her side trotted a sleek but massive tan dog with dark velvet eyes. He got down on his belly and wriggled toward Tibby. Then he raised a paw and rolled over. Tibby’s heart was lost. She knelt and scratched his chest, then his ears. “He’s perfect. What do I have to do to adopt him?”
The young woman explained the shelter’s policy, and Tibby paid the nominal fees. “I almost forgot,” she said, stowing her receipt. “Does my dog have a name?”
“Ah, uh, you might want to change it. The boys in the family named him Exterminator.” The girl made a face.
“Exterminator.” Tibby tried it out A smile twitched. Perhaps Cole O’Donnell wouldn’t be so cavalier about bulldozing his way over her property faced off against a dog called Exterminator. “But it’s just a name, right? I mean, he wouldn’t, you know, really go for the jugular or anything.” Tibby’s smile faltered:
The attendant laughed. “Just don’t hold red licorice close to a main artery. According to his former owner, the Dane has a sweet tooth. I guess that was the last straw. He ruined one of the kid’s birthday cakes. He can smell chocolate a mile away, and it’s hazardous to a dog. Our vet had a box of M&Ms in her purse. Exterminator nosed open the zipper and had the pack out by the time she caught him. Darn—they told me not to mention that. Now you’ll want to give him back, I expect.” She sighed.
Tibby considered for a moment. She stocked very little candy. Some of the residents were diabetics. She baked using raisins and blueberries. On rare occasions, carob chips. “Not a problem,” she said at last. “He can’t eat what isn’t there. As of now, he’s a health-food dog.”
Pulling away from the shelter, she wondered if it was safe to leave the dogs in her car while she ran in to Mr. Harcourt’s office to collect the letter. A needless concern, as it turned out. Both were apparently seasoned travelers. Exterminator claimed the rear of the station wagon and Peek-a-boo the front. The small dog made three revolutions then settled close to Tibby’s hip as they headed home. If Millie didn’t want her, Tibby decided, she’d take them both. She had a big house and no one with whom to share it.
The sad fact brought a catch to her breathing—heightened by a fleeting vision of Cole O’Donnell as he looked today. But he’d always been ruggedly handsome. She was the one who’d changed. Matured. Still, she was nowhere near as comfortable in her skin as he was in his.
Cole hadn’t said who he was entertaining this weekend. But he planned to serve angel-hair pasta and fine wine. Tibby would bet the store it wasn’t a male associate. She exhaled harshly as her spirits plummeted.
Exterminator reached over the back of her seat, whined and licked her ear. “Ooh.” She hunched a shoulder, then stroked his cold nose. “If you’re saying I should forget that charming rat, you’re absolutely right. But it’s easier said than done.”
The dog whiffled in response and placed a paw on her braid. Their two heads bobbed together in the rearview mirror. “Why do I need a man when I’ve got you?” she murmured. Apparently reassured, he bounded off to stare out the rear window again.
Once Tibby reached Yaqui Springs, her first stop was at Mildred Hopkins’s small mobile. As usual Millie sat rocking on her tiny porch. There was a time when her vegetable gardens had flourished. She’d let them go to seed after her husband died and stopped working in them altogether after losing her pet—as if she’d given up on life.
Braking outside the peeling picket fence, Tibby instructed the Dane to stay. The older woman ceased her listless rocking as Tibby climbed from her car.
“What’s that you’re bringing me, Tibby Mack? If it’s’ another casserole, you may as well take it home. The last two are still in my freezer.”
“No food today, Mildred.” Although it was on her list. After Henrietta mentioned that Millie had stopped cooking for herself, Tibby made it a point to drop by with nutritious offerings.
Peek-a-boo yawned sleepily and squirmed in her arms. Tibby strove to juggle dog, food and dish in order to close the gate. She knelt and slipped everything except the dog behind a wilting bush. “I went into town today, Millie, and I stopped by the animal shelter to get a dog. You know how I rattle around in Gram’s big old house by myself.”
Mildred’s eyes focused inward, as if she’d drifted away a moment. “Don’t pay to get attached to man nor beast, girl. Comes a time when they all leave you.”
“Not by choice, Mildred. The world is full of people and animals who could use a friend. Take Peek-a-boo, for instance. If I hadn’t gone to the shelter today, she would’ve been destroyed.” Tibby set the little dog down. The dog leaped right into Millie’s lap and snuggled in.
“Git. What are you doing? I’m not your mama. Tibby is.”
Tibby noticed the weathered fingers tugging gently at the dog’s silky ears. And she also noticed the doggie smile on Peek-a-boo’s face. “I wanted a bigger dog, Millie. I chose a Great Dane. But I couldn’t bear to walk away and leave this one to her fate.” Tibby sighed. “I’m afraid I promised to find her a home.”
“Oh, well…may be Winnie and Joe.”
“No. They’re always flitting hither and yon. Peek-a-boo lived with a retired lady. She’s content to sit and rock.”
“Mabel, then.” The woman scratched the dog under the chin.
“She’s off baby-sitting her grandchildren too often to take really good care of a dog, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose she is. I’d take her myself, but—”
“Would you? Mildred, you’re a lifesaver. Or I should say, a dog-saver.” Tibby suppressed a grin. “She comes with food and a dish. She’s been spayed and has all her shots.” Tibby grabbed the things from where she’d stashed them and piled them on the porch. “Well, I’d better run. Justine’s watching the store, and I’ve been gone longer than I’d planned. The dog’s name is Peek-a-boo, remember.”
Tibby all but ran from the yard. She didn’t want to give Mildred time to reconsider. As it turned out, she probably needn’t have rushed. Looking back as she pulled away from the curb, she saw Millie talking nonstop and the Pekingese’s tail waving like a flag in a stiff breeze.
“Yes!” Tibby punched the air with a fist. “It’s a match made in heaven, Exterminator,” she murmured smugly; rubbing her pet’s huge square nose.
Her good humor evaporated a bit as she passed the O’Donnell place. Cole stood with two men—strangers—on a hill of blooming sage. All three checked clipboards they held, then gestured wildly. Tibby wondered what the trio was up to. If she wasn’t so late, she’d stop and deliver Harcourt’s letter. It was well after four; surely he couldn’t start tearing up the landscape tonight.
Parking in her normal spot, Tibby hopped out and hurried into the store. Exterminator padded at her heels.
