Special Delivery. Judi Lynn
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years behind me. She was a whiner, moody and bossy. She always thinks she’s been wronged. We weren’t close.”
“And then there was Charlie?” Karli had fond memories of Mom’s youngest brother. They drove down to Mill Pond every summer when school ended to pick him up and take him to their house for the summer. He was thirty-eight, only eleven years older than she was. He was sweet and funny, and Karli adored him. Eloise had miscarried three times between Ida and him. After Charlie, she went through her change, and her childbearing days were over. Karli was only seven when Charlie graduated from high school and moved away.
Mom’s voice had a lilt in it. “He’s still teaching in Oregon, married with three kids. I’m so happy for him.”
Mom had paid his way through college at a regional campus in Indianapolis. She and Charlie were still close. They talked to each other once a week. “I told him about Dad. He won’t come, doesn’t want anything to do with him.”
Karli thought through the list. “So, if someone comes, who do you think it will be?”
“The ones you don’t want to meet: Kurt, Sylvie, or Ida.”
Wasn’t that the way it usually worked? “Oh, well, if it gets too messy around here, I’ll pack my things and come home.”
“Hey, you gave it your best. Dad has a choice. If he doesn’t take it, that’s not your fault.”
That’s the way Karli saw it. If he didn’t want her help, that was his problem.
After their conversation, Karli grabbed her romance novel and headed to the living room. Axel’s TV still flickered in the back room, but she could hardly hear it. He’d turned it down so that she wouldn’t take his remote and punch mute. He was a fast learner. She yawned and opened her book to where she’d left off. It had been a long day, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep if she didn’t relax first. It was time for a little fantasy escape.
Chapter 9
When Keagan stopped at Axel’s place on Friday, he delivered the mail and a ham loaf that Betty, who worked at Ian’s inn, had made. Karli let him in and motioned him toward the kitchen. Her dark hair hung loose today, halfway down her back; she wore jeans and a thin, black sweater. As always, she looked good. Brown bags covered the worktable.
“Just got back from the grocery. I’m putting a few things away. Thought I’d fix you guys something to eat tomorrow since you’re working here for free.”
He glanced at a dozen cube steaks stacked to be put in the refrigerator. “Swiss steak?” he asked. Ralph made a mean version of that dish at his diner.
She shook her head. “Thought I’d go for chicken-fried steak with gravy.”
“Now you’re talking!” His mouth watered. When she opened the refrigerator, he saw stew beef and frozen vegetables on the top shelf. “Do you like to cook?”
She got the impression this was a serious question. Food must matter to him. “Once in a while. When I’m in the mood. Not every day. You?”
“I can manage the basics.” He set the ham loaf on the stove. His mom loved gardening and cooking. Some of his favorite memories were spending time in the kitchen with her.
Karli stopped putting groceries away and turned to look at him. “I’ve never tasted ham loaf. Will you thank Betty for me? I have a thing for international food—Thai, Italian, and Mexican. Is there anywhere around here I can find those?”
He frowned. “Not in Mill Pond.”
“I love food, but I’m just as happy if I don’t have to cook it. Do small towns offer much variety? I’ve been spoiled in Indy. Ethnic restaurants are scattered everywhere.”
“Tyne makes all kinds of international food, but only guests can eat at Ian’s inn. I’m guessing you could find them in Bloomington, and I know you can in Indy.” He thought a minute. “Tyne’s coming tomorrow. I bet he’d give you some easy recipes.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to cook the food. I want to pay for it.”
When she looked disappointed, he said, “I’m not bad at Italian.”
Her brown eyes glittered. “What’s your specialty?”
“Chicken carbonara and spaghetti with meat sauce.”
“You’ll have to invite me for supper some time or stop by to cook for us.” She said it casually, but he got the feeling she was going to hold him to that. Did he mind? Not really. It had to be more fun than cooking for Brad.
He glanced at the clock. “Well, I’d better get going. I have to finish my route.”
She gave him a quick wave goodbye, and he’d started for the door when Axel yelled for him.
“Hey, boy, I need you. I could use a favor.”
Keagan frowned. Did he still expect applesauce and cottage cheese when Karli was cooking for him?
“A favor?” Karli shook her head. “He never words anything like that for me.”
“You’re a blood relative. It’s different.” Keagan stalked toward the back room. “I’m only a neighbor. I can ignore him.”
“So can I, when he gets too feisty.”
Keagan went to see what Axel needed. He did a double take when he saw the old man. He’d actually tried to comb his hair. Not that it helped. It was too dirty with too many knots, but at least he’d made an effort. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m getting a little ripe. I could use a shower,” Axel told him.
Keagan expected the floor to open up and swallow him. He usually had to bully his neighbor into washing up. “When?”
“Tonight, if you have time.”
Keagan narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Is a social worker coming to the house and you want to trick her, pretend you keep clean and tidy?”
Axel’s expression went sour. “Will you wash me or not?”
“I’ll be here.” If the old man would soap himself up, Keagan would get him under some hot water. “What if I come by when I get off work?”
“Fine.” Axel flicked at his beard. “Why don’t you find some scissors and trim this up, too?”
“Do you have a hot date? Is something going on that I don’t know about?”
Axel sniffed. “Don’t get too full of yourself, boy. I just need a little cleanup.”
“No, you need a do-over, but I’ll be here. I washed all of your sweat pants and T-shirts two weekends ago. We’ll get you in some clean clothes, too.”
“If you say so.”
Keagan cocked an eyebrow. “You’re feeling all right, aren’t you?”
“Don’t push it.” Axel turned back to his TV show, and Keagan started for the front door.
Karli called, “Since you’re coming, why don’t you stay for supper? I’m making vegetable soup.”
“With beef?”
“I’m putting it in the pressure cooker now.”
That’s what his mom did, too, to get it tender. “What if I buy a loaf of bread at Maxwell’s? And I’ll bring wine.”
“Perfect.” She looked smug, but immediately turned to grab onions, potatoes, and carrots out of the refrigerator drawer.
Once back in his truck, Keagan thought about the look she’d given him. He must have been mistaken. Why would she look smug? Maybe because he was going to scrub Axel, and she wouldn’t have to smell him anymore. A bowl of soup would be worth that.
With