Larkspur Road Page 9

  Maybe because he’d always had his brothers and Lissie and his parents to back him up.

  Sure, he and Rafe and Jake had fought plenty among themselves, but no one had better put down any of the Tanner boys or their sister, or they’d all band together as solid as a wall of iron spikes.

  The boy on the seat beside him had no one to back him up, apparently, except maybe this kid Scott and, for what it was worth, his mother.

  Until now.

  “Hey. I’m only interested in what you think.” He glanced over at Grady. “Do you think you’re stupid? Or could you have done better if you’d tried harder?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Would you work your butt off, if you had another chance?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “All right then. There’s hope.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of hope?”

  “Might be something you can do about having to repeat fifth grade.”

  “Like what?” Grady looked so doubtful that Travis had to fight to keep from shaking his head. The boy was too young to have such a dim view of the world. A kid should feel like anything is possible. Not like his future is written in stone, that if you make a mistake or two, there’s no chance in hell it’s going to turn out okay in the end.

  “Let me check into a few things, and I’ll get back to you soon. I promise. In the meantime, how about we take that ride?”

  His son’s face lit up again for the first time since Travis had raised the subject of school. “We can still ride to the creek?”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you at the barn in a few minutes and we’ll saddle up. I need to make a quick phone call first.”

  After parking the Explorer in the driveway, and watching Grady race toward the ranch house with Starbucks and Tidbit bounding out from the pasture to meet him, Travis yanked out his cell. He punched in Lissie’s number. She picked up on the second ring.

  “Trav, can I call you back later? I’m in the middle of fixing supper—,” she began, sounding busy and distracted, but he interrupted her.

  “This will only take a minute. I need a tutor for Grady. Give me a name. The best teacher in Lonesome Way.”

  Chapter Ten

  That night the brightly lit basement of the Lonesome Way Community Center was packed with women. Women of all shapes, sizes, hair colors, and coffee preferences. They ranged in age from twenty-three to eighty-six.

  Aside from all of them living in Lonesome Way, one other thing united them. They were quilters. Some were beginners, some had been piecing and stitching and appliquéing for more than half a century—but all of them were drawn together by the lure of creativity and the desire to make something of lasting usefulness and beauty.

  Every one of the Bits and Piecers leaned forward in their chairs to watch intently as Evelyn Lewis, the recording secretary, shared a video from the quilt show she’d attended in Cody, Wyoming, the previous month.

  “That quilt is similar to the one I’m making for the exhibition,” Karla McDonald, the newly elected treasurer, murmured to Mia as a quilt of redwork sweetheart blocks with flowered borders flashed onto the screen and the audience murmured appreciatively. “But I’m going to try some ribbon borders on mine.”

  “That sounds beautiful,” Mia whispered back.

  A striking batik quilt came up next on the video, which occasionally jumped from one colorful quilt to the next a little too wildly for her stomach.

  As a lovely old-fashioned patchwork quilt in orange and green filled the screen, she realized she hadn’t given much more than a passing thought to her own Starry Night quilt in days, not since she’d finished her design and figured out her yardages. She’d decided to use a whole-cloth background and do appliqué for the stars. But she’d need to get sewing—and soon. Leaning back in her chair, she made a mental note to head out to the quilt shop in Livingston tomorrow and stock up on supplies.

  The exhibition weekend in July would be here before she realized it and she needed to set aside the next week to make a start. This would be the fourth year she’d be sewing an exhibition quilt without Gram working beside her, sharing her ideas and advice.

  She knew she ought to be used to it by now, but in some ways she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it.

  Shortly before the meeting ended, Karla rose to her feet, holding the delicate silver box that usually contained spare change, cash, and checks from member dues, and which, after the quilt exhibition, would hold a single slip of paper containing the total amount of money raised from ticket sales and the quilt raffles. At the end of the day Karla would tally up the donations and write the total on a note inside the box—a box Gram had once used to hold hair clips and ribbons, and which she’d donated to Bits and Pieces in place of the old cardboard cigar box that had been used for the past thirty years. Then Becky Hall, Mia’s cochair in charge of the quilt exhibition, would step to the podium and thank everyone for coming and for their contributions, and Mia would stand beside her to open the box and read the total aloud.

  “Don’t forget, everyone,” Karla said, holding the silver box aloft, “we want to raise more money this year than any other.” She looked around the room. “There are so many women and children in need. Let us all make beautiful quilts and make a beautiful difference.”

  There was a quick smatter of applause and a ripple of excitement and determination surged through the room.

  Then the meeting ended and the women all came to their feet, chattering and eager as they headed toward the stairs. Mia spotted Martha Davies carrying her cardboard coffee cup in one hand while clutching the fat quarters she’d won in the drawing tonight in the other.

  Remembering what Martha had told Sophie about Aunt Winny, she began weaving her way toward the owner of the Cuttin’ Loose, but found herself waylaid by her cochair. Becky wanted to fill her in about Tobe’s Mercantile, which had all but agreed to purchase a square on the community quilt they’d be raffling off. Becky was to confirm with them in a day or so. She then asked Mia if she planned to exhibit any of her grandmother’s quilts at the fund-raiser. By the time Mia promised to select one, Martha was already halfway up the stairs.

  Mia darted after her, skirting others with a hurried smile. She finally managed to catch up with her in the community center parking lot.

  The salon owner, whose short bob of hair was dyed a rich shade of bordeaux this month, was trying to remember where she’d parked her car.

  “Martha, I see it. It’s right over there. Look, next to Hannah’s Taurus.”

  “Well, don’t you have eagle eyes, dear? It pays to be young, that’s for sure.” Martha beamed at her. Beneath the nearly full moon, she appeared closer to seventy than eighty. Her dangling gold earrings with citrine stones glistened in the moonlight as other quilters began to stream into the parking lot, calling soft good-byes to each other.

  Martha headed briskly toward her car once more and turned her head in surprise as Mia fell into step beside her.

  “Do you have a minute, Martha? I wanted to ask you about my aunt Winny. I heard you knew her years ago.”

  The older woman stopped short and glanced at her, making a tsking sound. She immediately resumed walking. “Well, of course I did. We went to school together. She was a year behind me.”

  As she reached her car, she peered sideways at Mia. “It was a long time ago,” she added with finality and opened her car door.

  “Was Winny a friend of yours back then?”

  “Well, no. I wouldn’t call her a friend. Aside from your dear grandmother, her own sister, Winny didn’t have many friends. Not girlfriends, anyway. She had plenty of boyfriends,” she added, her lips puckering.

  “Why only boyfriends?”

  “Mia, dear, what’s the point in talking about this? What’s done is done. In my experience, there are times when it’s best to leave the past alone.”

  “But someone in this town must know what happened between Winny and Gram.” Mia searched Martha’s eyes. “Do you?”
she asked softly.

  The other members of Bits and Pieces were nearly all gone now, the parking lot practically deserted. Only the distant sound of country music floating from the Double Cross Bar and Grill broke the quiet of the night as Martha peered into Mia’s eyes and hesitated, biting her crimson-painted lips.

  “You do know, don’t you?” Mia said slowly.

  “The point is, if your grandmother wanted you to know, I think she would have told you, dear.”

  “Gram might have had her reasons for keeping it to herself—but that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to know. Gram’s gone, Martha. She’s been gone for three years. But Aunt Winny is here. She’s family, and she’s alone. She doesn’t want me coming anywhere near her and I don’t have any idea why.”

  As the older woman drew in her breath, looking trapped, Mia pressed on.

  “Samantha and I are the only relatives Winny has left. We have a right to some answers about our own family. To know what happened.”

  For a moment the other woman looked like she was planning to refuse again. To simply climb in her car and go home. But then she searched Mia’s face once more, and slowly, she nodded.

  “I don’t know everything that happened.” Her voice was low, resigned. “Alicia wouldn’t speak much about it and neither would her parents. I only know one thing. There was a horrible falling-out and Winny destroyed something before she ran away. Something precious that belonged to your grandmother. It was only a few weeks before Alicia married your grandfather. And there was no turning back after that.”

  “What?” Mia felt her breath catch in her throat. “What did she destroy?”

  With a sigh, the older woman whispered the words that struck Mia like tiny swords.

  “She burned up your grandmother’s good luck wedding quilt.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brittany was curled up with Samson on the small sofa in the den, eating the last crumbs of a macadamia nut cookie from A Bun in the Oven and watching a rerun of The Gilmore Girls, when she heard a car’s engine in the driveway. Her heart skipped a beat at the same moment that Samson leaped off the sofa and raced in a blur toward the front door. He was barking like ten big dogs instead of just one tiny one, as if he knew whoever was out there was trouble.

  Panic chilled her blood. She jumped off the sofa so fast she almost knocked her Coke can off the coffee table. But she didn’t follow the dog. Not yet. Her heart was lodged in her throat. As much as she wanted to know who was there, outside, she could only stand frozen, fear knotting in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

  It isn’t him. He doesn’t know you’re here. No one from home knows, except Laura. And she’d never tell….

  She’d emailed Laura just that morning from Aunt Mia’s laptop and asked her if she’d told him anything. Laura had written back two words.

  No way.

  Britt swallowed and fought the fear. It’s probably just Aunt Mia. It must be. Her meeting must be over by now.

  But Samson never barked when Aunt Mia arrived home. He somehow knew the sound of her Jeep or sensed it was her. He was definitely barking now, frantic, high-pitched barking that blared in her ears like alarm bells.

  Slowly Brittany forced herself to tiptoe down the hall, into the living room. She edged to the window and ever so slowly inched the curtain back to peek out.

  The car parked behind her convertible was definitely not Aunt Mia’s Jeep. It was bigger, an SUV, a dark bulky blur in the night.

  It isn’t him. He doesn’t drive an SUV, she thought with a burst of relief. But her heart was still racing. The memory of Wade’s expression the last time she’d seen him swamped her with fear.

  Wade was as smart as he was short-tempered. He could have borrowed a car. He could have stolen a car. She wouldn’t put anything past him.

  She ducked back, then stood perfectly still as she tried to tune out Samson’s barking and prayed the doorbell wouldn’t ring. No way was she opening that door. Not to anyone she didn’t know. Not unless she was sure it wasn’t Wade, or someone he might have sent to scare her.

  What if whoever’s out there saw me peeking through the curtain? Panic rushed back. Samson was barking so loudly—maybe he’d scare whoever it was.

  Fat chance, a voice inside her yelled. Samson was a pipsqueak. An adorable pipsqueak, but still a pip—

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Don’t open it. Don’t open that door.

  “Everything okay in there?” A man’s voice. But it was older, deeper than Wade’s. A strong voice, even and calm.

  Don’t answer, she told herself even as a measure of relief flooded over her.

  Still, she stood motionless as Samson finally turned and stared at her expectantly, then gave another bark as if to make sure she knew someone was out there.

  “You must be Mia’s niece, Brittany. My sister-in-law, Sophie Tanner, mentioned you were here for the summer.”

  So he had spotted her when she peeked out. But he knew her name, and he knew Sophie. If Sophie was his sister-in-law…

  It suddenly dawned on her that this must be the guy Erma was talking about. Aunt Mia’s old boyfriend.

  She was panicking over nothing. This was Lonesome Way, where everyone knew each other, not some big city full of strangers.

  She was letting Wade turn her into a paranoid coward.

  “Who are you?” she called, just to be sure. Her voice almost sounded normal. “What’s your name?”

  “Travis Tanner. I’m a friend of your aunt’s.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. Travis Tanner. All right then. She wanted a look at the guy. Erma had talked like Aunt Mia was still in love with him. But Aunt Mia seemed like she couldn’t care less.

  Cautiously, Brittany opened the door on the chain, which only slid back two inches.

  “Are you okay?” Travis Tanner asked as Samson barked again like a maniac and ran in circles around her.

  Brittany gaped at the man on the other side of the screen door. He was tall and handsome, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans, and boots—ordinary clothes. But there was nothing ordinary about him. He was definitely the hottest guy she’d ever seen. She couldn’t speak for a moment as she stared into his strong, tanned face. He had muscles like a football player and silver-blue eyes. Of course, he was way too old for her, probably in his thirties, but he had what Laura would call the whole package.

  Aunt Mia didn’t want to get back together with him?

  “Sorry, I—I was just watching a scary movie. It freaked me out and then the doorbell rang.” Her fingers a bit unsteady, she unhooked the chain, eased open the door. “Aunt Mia went to her quilting meeting, and she isn’t home yet but she should be back any minute. You can come inside and wait for her, if you want.”

  “Thanks. I really need to speak to her tonight.”

  Travis studied the girl who stepped aside so he could enter the house. She definitely looked shaken. Her skin was pale, and he saw uneasiness still hovering in the depths of her eyes.

  Must have been some scary movie, he thought.

  “Good move, being careful about opening the door to a stranger. Even here in Lonesome Way. Though you do have this fierce watchdog here to protect you.”

  She managed to laugh as he stepped into the hallway. He knelt down to scratch Samson behind the ears. The dog jumped up, placing his paws on Travis’s knee, his tail wagging furiously.

  “Tough guy, huh? You protecting this place?”

  “His name’s Samson. Aunt Mia found him in the road. Someone threw him away. Can you believe that?”

  “Ah, unfortunately I can. She should have named him Lucky.” Travis stood and closed the door behind him. It had been a long time since he’d been in this house, and Mia had obviously made some changes over the years, but it still felt incredibly familiar. The cherrywood chest in the corner, the cozy L-shaped living room with its matching plump chintz sofas, and the tall windows looking onto the street all brought back memories o
f another time. A time when he and Mia meant everything to each other. A time of first love and boundless hope and a feeling of complete happiness.

  Up until the day he’d come here, stood on her porch, and told her in the coldest way possible that they were done.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked the teenager, reminding himself he was here for Grady’s sake, not for a stroll down memory lane.

  Mia’s niece still looked nervous. In his line of work, Travis had seen a lot of people who were afraid—and not of something that was happening in a movie. This girl looked nearly as on edge as half the crime victims he’d seen.

  “I’m fine. I…I guess I have an overactive imagination. Can I get you something to drink? We have some cookies—”

  “Thanks, but you don’t need to entertain me. I’ll just wait here. If you want to go back to your movie, that’s fine with me—”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when they both heard another car in the driveway. The teenager spun toward the door, her eyes wide.

  “That’s most likely your aunt, isn’t it?”

  Brittany visibly relaxed, but before Travis could ask her exactly what scary movie she’d been watching, Mia came through the door fast and the little dog flung himself at her as though she’d been gone for a year.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, staring at Travis.

  The dog jumped on her, his tiny paws flailing at her white capris, begging her to notice him, but she just stroked his head, keeping her gaze firmly trained on Travis’s face.

  “Sorry to come by without calling first,” he said evenly, “but I need to discuss something with you. It’s important. I came to ask for your help.”

  “I can’t imagine how I could possibly help you with anything.”

  “Only because you haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”

  Mia started to snap a reply, but she clamped her lips shut as she noticed Brittany watching her and Travis—a wide grin spreading across her face as her fascinated gaze flitted back and forth between both of them.