The Bridal Quest

Plastering a smile to her face, she scribbled a customer’s order for blueberry pancakes on a ticket. He was a local delivery man, and he’d flirted earlier with her until Cory had commented about his wife and baby girl. Now he halfheartedly smiled, then buried his face in his newspaper. She wished another man would follow suit and not give her so much attention.

Sam considered it part of his job as sheriff to learn about anyone new in town.

Any stranger would have aroused his curiosity. That sounded like a reasonable excuse for keeping an eye on the new waitress at Herb’s Diner as she scurried from the cook’s station with several plates of pancakes.

But Sam rarely lied to himself. His curiosity about a stranger only partially accounted for his interest in her. True, she looked out of place. Too classy-looking even in the brand-new jeans, snow-white sneakers, and the diner’s only concession to a uniform, a blue polo shirt.

She was a leggy woman with shiny auburn-colored hair caught back at the nape of the neck and held in place by a giant gold clip. She had an oval face, soft blue eyes, a straight nose, and a generous mouth. Plain and simple, the woman was a knockout.

Distracted by male voices raised in disagreement, he observed Morly Wells, sitting at a nearby table. A day didn’t pass without an argument about something between the retired postal worker and his best friend, Lloyd Guthrie. Sam listened for a moment to them, then shot a look at the clock on the wall above the counter. The girls were late. He thought about a half-finished quarterly statement on his desk that was due in the mayor’s office by the end of the week. He should be thinking about budgets and requisitions.

He would have been, but he looked up from the menu and saw Jessica Scott smile. Not at him, but an old-timer at the counter. Something slow moved through him. He was surprised by it though he shouldn’t have been. He’d always been a sucker for a sunshiny smile. But a long time had passed since a woman had really captured his interest. Not since a year and a half ago—when his wife had died.

The clatter of silverware on the floor made him look again in the direction of Herb’s new server. The woman had her problems. He saw her picking up the cutlery she’d dropped. While she walked with finishing school grace, she bordered on klutzy. She stopped before Morly to fill his coffee cup, and knocked over a glass of water. Morly jumped back before he wore it. She won’t last a week, Sam decided.

Crouching, Jessica gathered the silverware and dumped it on a tray. As she expected, she received the dishwasher’s glare. When had she gotten so clumsy, she wondered?

On a sigh, she turned around. Unable to put off the inevitable, she drew a deep breath and headed toward the first booth in her station, toward Sam Dawson.

“I see you got the job.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured. Close up, Thunder Lake’s sheriff was something, with his sun-streaked brown hair. Faint lines crinkled from the corners of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

Again that deep, no-nonsense voice floated on the air. “Herb said you were here at daybreak.”

So he’d asked Herb about her. Her stomach clenched. “Yes.”

“Have you decided to stay?”

“I’m not sure.” Tensing, she tightened her grip on the pencil in her hand. She needed to be friendly, she reminded herself. “The people I’ve met have been really nice.”

“We try to be.”

Honest to the core about her feelings, she acknowledged the quickening of her pulse had as much to do with a male-female tug as nervousness. He unsettled her. He made her aware. All good reasons to keep her distance. “Would you like coffee?”

“Dying for one. My dispatcher at the office makes it so strong it tastes like motor oil.”

Breathe, Jessica, she berated herself. “We have good coffee here.” He knows that, Jessica. He’s a regular at the diner. “Guess you’ve had plenty of it.”

“Yeah, I have.” He presented a warm smile, a knock-your-socks-off smile, the kind meant to tingle a woman all the way down to her toes.

“Do you want to order now, too?”

“No, I’m waiting for others.”

She noticed he’d glanced at her left hand. For what? A wedding band?

“Have you been a waitress long?”

She lifted the water glass in front of him. “Oh, sure, for ages and ages.”

“That’s mine.”

Jessica stilled. “What?”

“That was my water glass.” He looked at it, then up at her and grinned. “But you can have it.”

She heard a hint of humor in his voice. Why? What was so funny? Frowning, she looked down. She didn’t need to see herself. She felt the warmth of a blush sweep over her face as she stared at the finger she’d stuck inside his glass. Silently she groaned. When she’d reached for the glass, she’d been thinking more about the gaze on her than what she was doing. What a dumb thing to do. “I’m sorry.” She shot a look at Herb, then back at him. “I’ll get you another glass.” She spoke lightly, even flashed a smile, hoped she sounded relaxed. “And your coffee.”

The sounds of two men engaged in a friendly dispute about what teams would play in the World Series this year made him look away. She used that moment to escape. She needed to stop acting so jittery. If he knew who she really was, he would have said something, wouldn’t he?

“I told you this might not work,” Herb said suddenly, falling in step beside her.

Was he already going to fire her? She wouldn’t blame him if he did. She’d dropped several orders of ham and eggs earlier that morning, nearly spilled water on a customer’s lap, and probably had caused a shortage of silverware during the diner’s busiest hour, sending all that had tumbled to the floor back to the dishwasher. “I’ll do better,” Jessica promised.

She wished the day was over.

She waited until he walked away, then snatched up the Tabasco bottle. On her way to the customer, unwittingly her gaze locked with the sheriff’s. Sympathy darkened his blue eyes. He knew just as Herb and anyone else did that she had no experience. Well, she wasn’t doing this by choice. She’d been forced into this situation.

Her mother had announced that she’d found her daughter’s perfect match in a handsome, dark-haired male named Ryan Noble. Furthermore, Jessica’s grandfather had raved about Ryan, his Golden Boy, the company’s most promising associate, and Jessica assumed she’d never convince them that their choice wasn’t hers.

All her life she’d tried to please her mother and her grandfather, done everything they’d ever asked her to do. When she declared she wouldn’t marry Ryan, an argument had ensued.

Her mother had delivered a steely command. “Ryan Noble is your grandfather’s choice. So he’ll be yours. Now, you need to meet with him, get to know him better, and stop this nonsense.”

Jessica had said no more. She hadn’t needed to race down the aisle of the church with the long train of her bridal gown trailing her. No wedding plans existed yet, and she’d vowed there’d be none.

She’d left the room, climbed the stairs to her bedroom, and packed a bag. After everyone went to bed, she’d left a note, saying she’d call shortly.

For the first time in her life, Jessica Walker, heiress to the Walker fortune, did more than balk at doing what her family wanted. She’d fled.

With a few dollars and her credit cards in her shoulder bag, she’d expected to be on a minivacation. After spending a few weeks away, she would call home. By then, her family would realize she was serious about not marrying Ryan.

But her plan had crumbled swiftly. Within two days of leaving the family mansion, she’d had to stop using credit cards for rooms and gas when she realized the receipts were traceable.

While in another town, she’d learned that money, something she’d never worried about, was no longer available to her. A trip to a local bank revealed her lack of funds. She’d planned to withdraw a sufficient amount of money, so she wouldn’t have to use her credit card. She discovered her account was closed. Usually only the IRS could close someone’s bank account, but this one had been opened by her mother when Jessica was still a minor, and all it had taken was Deidre Walker’s signature to close it.

Jessica realized then how serious her family was about her marriage to Ryan. A stubborn streak she hadn’t even been aware she possessed had flared. She wasn’t giving in to their demand. Call her a romantic, but she wanted that happily-ever-after marriage with a man she truly loved. So until she believed her family had accepted her decision, she was on her own.

And not doing well, she reluctantly admitted.

Chapter Three

At the ring of the bell above the door, Jessica looked up from pouring the sheriff’s coffee. An ample-hipped, gray-haired woman and two fair-haired minxes rushed in. Jessica smiled at the sight of the green baseball cap propped on the head of the little blonde.

“Daddy,” the one with soft brown hair yelled.

Both girls raced from the door ahead of the woman.

With the cup in her hand, Jessica scanned the restaurant for the face of a proud-looking papa. In midstride, she stilled as the two flew to the sheriff’s side.

Rapid-fire, they rambled at him. “Amanda is always coloring outside the lines,” the youngest was saying in a tone meant to indicate that that was the ultimate no-no. Smiling at her, her daddy lifted the cap from his daughter’s head and set it on the booth seat beside him.

Jessica couldn’t help smiling. The girls were absolutely adorable.

And motherless.

She recalled that Cory had said he was a widower, and she felt a tug on her heart. You’re too sensitive, Jessica, her mother had often said. Jessica hadn’t thought that was such a terrible trait. She’d admit to having a weakness for children and loved being around them. So what was wrong with that?

She looked forward to having her own some day, and their father would be a man she loved, she reminded herself. That’s why she was going through all this. So her family realized that she would accept nothing less.

After she delivered the sheriff’s coffee and a hot tea for the woman and chocolate milk for the girls, a brief lunch rush kept her busy. When she looked in the sheriff’s direction again, she saw that he’d left his booth to talk to a man sitting at the counter.

Jessica turned in an order for a cheeseburger and fries. Unable to resist, she moseyed over to his daughters. She said hi, but the elderly woman seated in the booth across from the girls was the one who snagged her attention. She looked pale, and beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

The woman sent Jessica a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

She definitely didn’t look fine.

“Mrs. Mulvane, are you sick?” the oldest girl asked with wide eyes.

“I have this terrible heartburn,” the woman was saying. She ran a hand down her throat as if she could ease away the discomfort by touch.

Jessica managed to veil her concern behind a sympathetic smile, then did an about-face. In a few strides, she weaved her way to the sheriff. The idea of not interrupting was never an option. She laid a hand on his forearm to get his attention. When he faced her, momentary puzzlement touched his eyes. “Sheriff, I think the lady with your daughters is having a heart attack.”

To his credit, he didn’t hesitate longer than a second. “Take my girls to another booth,” he demanded, already on his way to them.

Only a step behind him, Jessica hustled the girls from their seats while he bent over the woman. She ushered them with their drinks to a booth at the back of the diner, then blocked their view of the action near the door. “What are your names?”

“I’m Annie,” the oldest said. “And this is my sister Casey. I’m six. And she’s four. Who are you?”

“I’m Jessica.”

“Can I call you Jesse?” the younger one asked.

Jesse. She liked the sound of the name. Different life. Different name. Already Cory had shortened her name to Jess. Why not Jesse? “I’d like that,” she said to the little one, and worked to keep them preoccupied enough so they didn’t see everyone assisting the woman. “Are you ladies here with your husbands?” she asked, directing her question to Annie who bubbled cheerily and nonstop about everything.

With her question, Casey leaned her blond head close to her sister’s darker one and giggled behind her hand.

“We don’t have husbands,” Annie said. “We’ve got our daddy.” Pride filled her voice. “He’s the sheriff. That’s an important job.”

Slurping on her straw, Casey craned her neck to see around Jessica. “Uh-huh.”

Annie went on, “I go to school. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Hooper. Next year I get Mrs. Bowcott. I had chicken pox, a mild case, the nurse told my daddy. But I had funny spots all over.”

“Polka dots,” Casey said and giggled again.

Jessica smiled along with them. They looked so much alike. Though Casey was a blonde and Annie had brown hair with blond streaks, they had similar heart-shaped faces, pouty mouths, pert noses and large blue eyes.

“Our mommy is in heaven,” Annie announced.

Looking solemn, Casey nodded her head.

Jessica studied them both for a long moment, saw no painful grief in their eyes, but was at a loss about what to say. Their daddy unknowingly saved her.

With his approach, Casey jumped from the chair and rushed to him. “Is Mrs. Mulvane sick?” she asked while he lifted her up.

Annie offered her opinion. “Daddy, Mrs. Mulvane looked bad.”

Casey nodded. “Real bad.”

In a reassuring gesture, he ran a large hand over Annie’s head. “The doctors will take good care of her.” His eyes shifted from her to Jessica. “Thanks for helping.”

“You’re welcome.” Assuming they’d have plenty of questions for him, she scooted out of the booth so he could slide in. “I’m glad I could help.” On that note, she hurried away. Being with his children was one thing, spending any time with him undoubtedly would prove as nerve-wracking as before. She returned to the cook’s counter, expecting Herb’s censure for sitting so long with them, but he said nothing.

“What you did was nice,” Cory whispered when standing beside her and waiting for orders. “In a small town, people help each other without being asked. You aren’t as much of a newcomer now.”

Jessica warmed. Though she doubted that even her new status would help her keep her job, she learned she’d scored a few points with Herb.

And with two little girls. Before they left, they raced to her with thank-yous that had her smiling most of the afternoon.

A reality check hit at three o’clock. Ready to leave, she stood in the employee break room, thinking about where she could go for the night. She didn’t even have a car to sleep in.

She counted her tips and closed her eyes. Her net worth was twenty-one dollars and thirty-five cents. So now what? Before leaving the motel this morning, she’d paid for last night’s room with most of her cash. She had no other resources since her bank account was frozen. She’d have to sleep under the stars until she got her paycheck at the end of the week—if she lasted that long.

“You did a good thing with Sam’s girls today,” a voice said behind her.

She slanted a look over her shoulder at Herb and responded with a smile, truly pleased by his words.

“Want to work extra hours?”

Jessica had learned that the dinner shift belonged to the most experienced waitresses and meant the best tips. He was obviously in a bind or he wouldn’t have asked her to stay. Grateful for a chance to earn more money, maybe enough to pay for a motel room tonight, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” That was all he said before leaving her.

A moment later, Cory peeked in. “Chloe didn’t show,” she said about another waitress. “If you have any questions about the dinner menu, ask me.”

By six-thirty the diner was full with dinner customers. So far she’d kept pace with her orders. Well, almost. Herb picked up two customers. Cory, who was working overtime to make extra money for her wedding, took another one. Pleased with how well she’d been doing might have been part of her downfall, Jessica later decided.

Standing in the aisle, she lowered a plate in front of a balding man in a suit. She heard movement behind her and assumed the customer in the next booth was leaving. “Here you are, ma’am,” she said to the balding man’s companion.

Behind her, a male voice bellowed to someone at the door. “Hey, Marv.” At the same moment that Jessica’s hand moved down, the man rushed by.

Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion. When he hit her elbow, her arm jerked forward. She watched the plate of spaghetti flip out of her hand. The noodles flew from it, plopped onto the table and slid onto the woman’s lap.

Jessica moaned.

The woman squeaked.

Unaware, the man who’d bumped her elbow merrily went out the door with his friend Marv.

Feet away, Herb was scowling. Jessica expected his words seconds later. “I’m sorry, I can’t afford to keep you,” he said, sounding as if he meant that. “But you’re a walking disaster. Do you know who’s wearing our marinara sauce?”

Jessica shook her head.

“The mayor’s wife,” Herb told her, and turned away, shaking his head.

Jessica grimaced and headed for the break room to get her suitcase. She saw no point in trying to persuade him to let her stay.

With plates to deliver lining her arm, Cory stepped into her path. “Hon, I’ll call you later.”

Another problem, Jessica mused. If Cory called the motel, she’d learn she wasn’t there anymore. She faced Cory with a brave face, not wanting her to know how devastated she was. “No. I might change motels.” Quickly she made a promise. “But I’ll keep in touch.”

“Okay, but don’t worry,” she said, closing inches so their shoulders touched. “There are plenty of jobs around town.”

Jessica drummed up a smile. She was no more qualified for any other job than she’d been for this one. “Yes, I’m sure there are.”

She hadn’t thought the situation could get worse. She’d been wrong. She had no job now, and no place to stay.

Stepping out the back door, she stopped at the wood bench outside Lloyd’s Barbershop, the store to the right of the diner. She yanked the clip out of her hair. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t squelch the tears. Her throat tightened and her eyes smarted. She’d been so sure she could stand on her own, so sure that once she’d taken this stance against marriage to Ryan Noble that her family would acquiesce. But nothing was going as she planned. Nothing.

Cooking a meal was the last thing on Sam’s mind tonight. He didn’t mind cooking, but he hated thinking about what to cook night after night. More often than not, he gave in to his daughters’ pleas for their favorite food, pizza, so he figured a hamburger at Herb’s ranked a close second to a home-cooked meal.

The afternoon had proved long and tense. Not wanting Arlene to be alone, he’d left the girls at the office in the trustworthy hands of Trudy, his assistant and dispatcher, and his girls’ great-aunt, then he’d gone to the hospital. While there, he’d contacted Arlene’s son in Reno, and a daughter who lived in Fallon, and told them the doctor was keeping their mother in the hospital for observation. He offered reassurances that she was doing fine.

He wasn’t.

Sheriff Sam Dawson no longer had a nanny for his daughters. Weary from the events of the day, he wished for a simple answer to his problem, for a way to manage until he found someone to stay with the girls.

A dull headache promised to strengthen if he didn’t pop in a few painkillers soon. While he drove with the girls toward the diner for dinner, they’d grown quiet again. He didn’t think they were fretting. Earlier, when he’d returned to the office, he’d been met by gloomy faces and their concern for Arlene. Sam had quieted their distress, and worked hard to stir their smiles while they’d settled in the vehicle and fastened seat belts.

Now Annie seemed engrossed in a new book, and Casey was humming to her stuffed dog.

They seemed okay. But what did he know? He was never sure if he was doing the right thing. Being a single dad was tough. He’d never expected to be one, to raise the girls alone. Life without Christina had been difficult, harder than he’d ever imagined. He should have known, expected that. She’d made a difference in his life. She’d come into it when he’d needed someone the most.

She’d been his life, and when she’d died, so had he. For weeks nothing had mattered. He’d been so damn selfish. He’d been thinking only about himself, his pain. Back then, pressure had crowded his throat daily. It was the girls who’d saved him.

They’d given him only a little time to grieve. He’d wanted more. He’d wanted to wallow in self-pity, to let grief crush down on him. But how could he? Life kept intruding. One of them needed new shoes or had a dentist appointment. There were new books to read, a carnival in town, a birthday, Christmas.

His daughters wouldn’t let him bury himself in his misery. So he put on a good show. He smiled and laughed because of them. It was his way of telling them everything would be okay, even though it wasn’t.

Then during the past months, the terrible ache that had rooted itself within him no longer attacked him with his every breath. Time healed pain. With good intentions, everyone had said that would happen. He hadn’t believed them, hadn’t believed any woman would reach inside him again, would make him smile. Or love again.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Annie look up from her book. “Isn’t she pretty, Daddy?”

He assumed she was talking about some picture in the book.

“And nice,” she went on.

“Who?”

“Jesse.”

A dimpled smile came to mind. So did shapely legs.

“I like her,” Casey announced.

That was a remarkable feat. Casey was stingy with her approvals.

“Do you like her?” she asked.

Like? Maybe. Desire, absolutely. And he wasn’t thrilled about that. It was dumb thinking, he berated himself. He hardly knew her.

“I want a hamburger,” Annie informed him.

Sam zipped into the parking lot adjacent to the diner.

“Can I have one?”

“Me, too,” Casey piped in.

“Sure.” He switched off the ignition, watched the girls bound out of their sport utility vehicle. They looked more eager than usual about going into the diner. That made him edgy, especially since Annie’s comments about Jessica Scott.

Previously he’d learned from Arlene that his two angels thought they needed a mommy, and their daddy had been too busy to find them one. The truth was he hadn’t been looking. He’d had the love of his life. He truly believed a man didn’t get that gift twice.

“Daddy, look.” Annie pointed in the direction of the bench near Herb’s. “There’s Jesse.”

Sam rounded the front of the vehicle to see them racing toward her and calling her name. “Jesse, Jesse.”

He thought she looked tired, but she sat with her back straight as if she was balancing a book on her head. The orange glow of sunset caressed her glossy hair. Hanging loose now, it fell to her shoulders.

From a distance, her smile looked weak. In what seemed like an affectionate gesture, she touched his daughter’s shoulder. Closer now, Sam noted the suitcase at her feet, and guessed Thunder Lake’s newest resident had a problem. “Hi.”

A moment passed before she looked up, swung pale, watery eyes toward him.

Tears. Things had gone from bad to worse for her, Sam deduced. His natural instinct with someone he knew would have been to offer a comforting shoulder. But this woman was a stranger. “Annie, take Casey and go in. Get us a booth.”

Nothing was simple with Annie. She liked schedules and predictability. Any deviation from what she expected made her ask a dozen questions. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

A frown grabbed hold on her face. “Where should we sit? What if there aren’t any empty tables?”