As Jackson cruised along the narrow, winding mountain road, the wildflowers’ brilliant colors exploded under the autumn sun. With all the necessary supplies, he headed back to The Bean. He smiled at his recent blessings. He and Melanie were working together to keep things running for Phoebe. And Sara’s report on the lady’s condition was positive. Life was good. His daughter brought out a softer side of Melanie, one he found quite attractive.
He turned into the parking lot of The Bean with a tight grip on the steering wheel. Jackson did a double take when he spied a woman who resembled his ex-wife, Taylor. She was running toward a black Mustang.
His hands wet with sweat, he jammed the truck into Park. There was no way she would come back. Not now.
The engine revved and the Mustang peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Jackson’s truck in a swirling cloud of dust. The high speed and the car’s tinted windows made it impossible for him to get a better look.
He sprang from the truck and raced inside The Bean. His heart slowed when he opened the front door and spotted Melanie and Rebecca sitting at the counter. Each had a large glass of chocolate milk. By the looks of the dark layer puddled on the bottom, it was heavy on the chocolate.
“Well, what do we have here? Are the workers taking a break?”
Wearing huge grins, they both spun around in their stools like synchronized swimmers. “Miss Melanie made us real chocolate milk, Daddy. It’s got the good syrup.”
He laughed. “I see. Maybe I should have bought some more syrup while I was at the store.”
Melanie smiled. “When I was a little girl, my dad let me drink it only on special occasions.”
Rebecca tilted her head. “What kind of occasions, Miss Melanie?”
“If I got a good grade on my report card or did well on a test.” She touched her earring. “He believed if you drank it every day, it wouldn’t taste as good.”
“It looks pretty tasty to me,” Jackson said. He put the coffee on the counter. He was anxious to ask Melanie about the woman who’d just left the restaurant. “Hey, Squirt, why don’t you go and wash an apple to take with your lunch?”
Rebecca zipped to the kitchen.
Jackson moved closer to the window. “So, did you have many customers while I was gone?”
She shook her head. “We had one really sweet couple from Upstate New York. They were on their way to Florida for the winter,” Melanie said.
Jackson stepped away from the window. “Oh yes, the snowbirds. We actually get a lot of those this time of the year. Ah...anyone else?”
Rebecca poked her head from behind the kitchen door and walked toward them. “Did you tell Daddy about the strange lady, Miss Melanie?”
He noticed Melanie’s shoulders stiffen, and his heart sped up. “What lady, Rebecca?” he asked.
His daughter first looked at Melanie and then at Jackson with wide eyes. “A weird lady. She didn’t say anything.” She shrugged her shoulders. “She stared at me for a long time. It was kind of creepy.”
“What do you mean, she stared at you?”
“You tell him, Miss Melanie.”
Melanie picked at her fingernail as she turned to look at him. “It was a little strange. A woman came in, but I don’t think she was interested in eating or even a cup of coffee. She didn’t want a table and she never said a word. She had this far-off look in her eyes and seemed confused.”
“Maybe she was lost.” Doubt consumed him.
Melanie cocked her head. “I don’t know what was wrong with her, but she did seem captivated by Rebecca. It was very odd.”
Rebecca nodded. Her curls jiggled. “Yeah, she was scary.” Her nose wrinkled. “I hope she doesn’t come back.”
If his gut was right and it was Taylor, why would she come back after so many years away? “Don’t worry. She was probably just passing through town and got lost.” But until he confirmed that the “weird lady” was not his ex-wife, there was no way Jackson would leave Melanie or Rebecca alone in the restaurant.
* * *
The next morning at The Bean, Jackson was a bundle of nerves. His crazy dream from the night before, with Taylor kidnapping Rebecca, had him jumping each time the front door bell jingled. He expected to see his ex walk in and try to snatch Rebecca. To play it safe, he sat Rebecca at the far corner table, away from the door. She colored, unaware of his paranoia.
Gurgling sounds filled the restaurant when the ninth pot of coffee of the day started to percolate. He couldn’t keep the pots filled. For a Tuesday morning, it was wild. A tour bus rolled in with a crowd of senior leaf-peepers. Some lingered out front to snap pictures of the golden leaves on the trees.
Thirty minutes later, Jackson stood at the window, relief settling in when the bus rolled out of the parking lot. He turned to clear the coffee cups from the table near the door.
Rebecca raised her head. “Daddy, I smell something burning.” She turned her attention back to the two rabbits she chose to color purple.
He took a whiff and immediately sprinted into the kitchen. Flames shot up from the skillet. Melanie sat at a small table in the corner on her cell phone. She wrote feverously on a pad of paper, oblivious to her surroundings.
Jackson bolted toward the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. “Melanie! There’s a fire!”
With four quick blasts from the extinguisher, the fire was out. Jackson wiped the perspiration from his brow and turned toward her. Unbelievable...she was still on the phone. Didn’t she smell the smoke or see the flames? She could have burned the place to the ground. He flung the skillet with the blackened bacon into the sink and stormed out of the kitchen. The crash echoed behind him.
Moments later, Melanie stomped into the dining area, carrying her phone and the pad of paper. “Jackson, I was on an important call. I didn’t appreciate you banging the dishes and making so much noise.”
Was she joking? She was angry at him? He bit down hard on his lip, nearly breaking the skin. “Are you kidding? Didn’t you see the grease fire you started? You can’t leave food cooking on the stove unattended.” His anger continued to bubble.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think you’re overdramatizing the situation? It’s just a little burned bacon, Jackson.”
Afraid of what he might say, he held his tongue for a moment. The rumble of Rebecca’s school bus pulling into the parking lot was a relief. He’d have a few more minutes to cool off. “Rebecca, get your coat and your book bag. The bus is here.”
She grabbed her stuff, ran toward Melanie and kissed her hand. “’Bye, Miss Melanie.”
“Goodbye, sweetie. You have a good day.”
Outside, the school bus honked its horn. Rebecca sprinted to Jackson and hugged his waist. “Please don’t yell at Miss Melanie any more, Daddy. I’m sure it was an accident.”
As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, Jackson turned to Melanie. “I’m sorry I yelled, but you could have burned the place down.” His face pinched. “What could take priority that you’d ignore a fire?”
She looked away. “I was talking to my office.”
“Ah... I should have known. Of course, your job takes priority over this hillbilly place.”
“That’s not fair, Jackson.”
He stepped closer. “What’s not fair? It’s how you feel about this place...about me. I’m just some uneducated country bumpkin compared to you.”
She leaned in. “For your information, my client’s son was kidnapped. This case has consumed my time for weeks. The only reason my partners allowed me some time off is because I promised to work on it while I’m here.”
Jackson raised his eyebrow. Kidnapped. Last night’s dream surfaced in his mind.
Hugging the notepad to her chest, she looked him in the eye. “My client’s ex-husband took their child back to his country. He went against a court order. The child has been uprooted from his home and deprived from seeing his own mother.”
His anger eased. Thoughts of Rebecca filled his mind. How would he feel if Taylor kidnapped his daughter? “I’m sorry for your client and for how I acted.” Who knew how much longer Phoebe would be out of commission and they would have to work together? It was time for him to accept the fact Melanie had a job back in DC. If they needed her from time to time, he’d have to adjust his frame of mind. “So, is there anything you can do for your client from here?”
“Yes, there’s a lot I can do, but I’ll need help from one of my partners. Still, the sooner I’m back in DC, the better.” She flipped through the pages of her notes. “I’ll get the child back with his mother. You can count on it.”
Jackson admired her determination. He looked at his watch and realized it was already time to pick up Phoebe from the hospital and get her settled at the rehabilitation center. “What do you say if, after lunch, we lock up and go pick up our gal? If I know Phoebe, she’s waiting at the front door of the hospital, wondering why we’re late.”
Melanie nodded and headed back to the kitchen with her head in her notebook.
Jackson watched as the door closed behind her. The fact that she was so determined made him uneasy. Of course he was concerned about her taking Phoebe to DC, but the empty feeling that consumed him when he thought about Mel leaving Sweet Gum worried him more.
* * *
Aunt Phoebe’s room at Madison Village was small, but at least it was temporary. The doctor had ordered physical therapy to improve her strength, as well as speech therapy. Melanie placed the yellow mums she and Jackson had purchased on the nightstand. With the yellow-and-white comforter covering her queen-size bed, the flowers were a perfect match.
“It makes my heart happy to see the two of you came together to help me get settled.” Aunt Phoebe beamed. She flung her suitcase onto the bed, not looking at all like someone in need of rehabilitation.
Jackson stepped forward. “Do you think you should be doing this, Phoebe?” He attempted to pull the suitcase away, but she gave it a tug back in her direction.
“Nonsense. I’m perfectly capable of unpacking my own clothes.” She stuffed a pair of white cotton pajamas into the drawer. “Now tell me, how are the two of you getting along?” She continued to unpack.
Their eyes locked.
“The Bean is just fine, Aunt Phoebe.”
“That’s not what I asked, dear.” She directed a knowing look at Jackson.
Melanie picked at her pant leg. She hoped he wouldn’t mention the incident from earlier today.
“I guess you could say I’m great at putting out her fires.” Jackson threw a wink at Melanie.
Her hopes were quashed.
Aunt Phoebe tilted her head. “What?”
Melanie closed the suitcase and shoved it into the closet. “Never mind. Jackson’s just trying to be funny. Let’s talk about you. Did Dr. Roberts tell you how long you’ll have to stay here?” She glanced around the room, wondering if it had Wi-Fi.
“He said I’m doing well, so maybe just a week or so.”
It didn’t give Melanie much time to convince her aunt a move was in her best interest. With the kidnapping incident, she needed to get back to DC sooner rather than later. She’d have to start the ball rolling without Phoebe’s consent. First she needed to meet with the real-estate agent she’d spoken to while she was still in DC. “That’s good news. I couldn’t imagine staying in this tiny place any longer than a week.”
She saw Jackson scan the room. “I don’t know. I think it feels kind of cozy. I guess you’re used to those multilevel penthouse suites with multiple rooms and baths, and granite countertops in the kitchen.”
A knock on the door prevented Melanie from getting into another war of words with Jackson. She walked to the door and yanked it open. “Hello. Can we help you?”
“Excuse me. I didn’t know Phoebe had guests.” A petite woman who looked about Phoebe’s age stood in the doorway, holding a red spiral notebook. Her name tag read Prissy, which suited her fine with her pursed lips, pixie haircut and a sharp Adam’s apple. “I’m here to take her to her speech-therapy session.”
Jackson looked at Aunt Phoebe. “Boy, they don’t waste any time, do they?”
Phoebe grabbed her pink sweater from the closet and slipped it on. “It’s fine by me. The sooner I get all of this therapy done, the faster I’ll get out of here.” She turned to Prissy. “No offense, dear, but I’m anxious to get back to my own house.”
Melanie’s stomach turned over. It was too soon after the stroke to discuss putting Phoebe’s house on the market. She’d just move forward and hope for the best. What else could she do? The stroke was proof Aunt Phoebe shouldn’t be living alone, and Melanie knew there was no way she could return to DC and live alone in her big, empty house. And she had to get back. Her job was all she had left.