A Marriage Made In Joeville. Anne Eames
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There was already a cook in the kitchen? Working as a kitchen helper didn’t sound nearly as intimidating. But what did it matter? She wasn’t staying, anyway. She tested the sausage. “This is fine. Thanks.”
Without invitation, Ryder tossed a piece of toast on her plate. She eyed his long fingers as they busied themselves at his own plate. Slow, sure movements. She managed to empty her mouth without choking and drank more coffee.
“Whatsa matter? Ya don’t like my toast?” Essie jumped, not having noticed the older, portly woman who had entered the room behind her.
“N-no. I mean...I was just waiting for someone to pass me the jelly,” she lied.
“Jelly!” Hannah shouted. “That’s not jelly! It took me hours to put up strawberries. Them’s preserves, young lady. Not jelly.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Hannah. You sound like that silly commercial.” Max glowered at her, sending her a clear message to behave herself. “Hannah, this is Essie Smith.” Hannah walked closer and scowled at the applicant, her formidable frame sending off waves of instant disapproval.
Essie pushed out her chair and stood, tugging at her skirt before extending her hand. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.” Her hand hung out there, untouched, as Hannah’s fists stayed put on her barrel hips. Essie just smiled and waited. Things hadn’t gone exactly as she’d planned so far, but she would win this one if it took all day. Finally she saw Hannah’s squinted eyelids flicker. Then, grudgingly, a chafed, stubby hand grasped hers and gave it one hearty shake. Essie exhaled the breath she’d been holding.
“Can I help you clear the table?”
Hannah shrugged. “If ya want.” The woman waddled back through the kitchen door, muttering under her breath.
“Don’t mind Hannah,” Max said. “Her bark’s worse than her bite.”
Hope to God I never find out, Essie thought, shaking off the mental image of a set of dentures embedded in her backside. She started stacking empty plates one atop another.
“Don’t you want to eat more? The dishes can wait.”
She looked back at Max’s warm smile. He seemed like such a kind man. Still, where had be been when Ryder needed him in high school?
“That’s okay. I guess I’m not very hungry this morning.” The truth was Jenny’s clothes left little room to breathe, let alone eat. Now she knew why her friend had insisted on separate boxes for her loaners. Jenny knew Essie would never wear them unless she had no choice. As she piled on another dirty plate, she wondered when the little vixen had made the box switch.
Remembering where she was, she glanced around the table and caught Shane’s steady gaze. Was he trying to read her mind, or what?
This one would be hard to fool.
Her breath hitched at the back of her throat as she realized what this last thought meant. She wasn’t leaving after all. She piled on more dishes and exhaled. She’d come this far, why not give it a whirl? If for no other reason than to satisfy her curiosity. Who were these men she’d heard so much about? And Ryder! To think she’d held up this man as the standard for all others! How could she have been so wrong about him?
She made her way around the table and avoided Ryder’s face...as if he remembered she was even there. Except for the casual toast toss, he’d all but ignored her. She looked at Joshua, instead, who was spreading jelly...uh, preserves... and giving her a sympathetic smile. She gave him a small smile back, till suddenly she felt the muscles in her arms quiver from her load. Before she could make a fool of herself and drop the whole pile, she pushed open the kitchen door with her back and deposited the dishes next to the sink. Hannah went about her business, not looking up. Essie watched her a moment, then left for another load, mentally sizing up her situation.
Two friendly faces, one questionable, one crude, and one crusty old lady who she’d bet her bottom dollar had a soft side.
Essie filled her arms again and returned to the kitchen, deciding once and for all that she would stay and make the best of things. She’d come to Montana for another look at Ryder Malone. One bad first impression didn’t come close to answering all the questions she had about this man. Why, after all these years, was that large chip still on his broad shoulders? She stopped and stared out the back window at a pair of mountains aglow with the morning sun. And how could anyone be unhappy in a paradise such as this?
Before she could change her mind, she marched back into the dining room and stood next to Max. “If the offer’s still open, I’ll take it,” she said, watching the surprise register on his face.
With a wide smile, he pushed out his chair and grasped her hand in both of his. “We’re happy to have you, Essie. Would you like to see your room? You will stay here, won’t you?”
She looked around the table one last time. Shane’s face told her nothing, Joshua looked like someone just bought him a puppy, and Ryder was still shoveling it in, acting as though he hadn’t heard the question, or if he had, didn’t care. All the way out here, she’d prayed he wouldn’t recognize her. Now that he didn’t and the initial disappointment at his behavior had subsided, she wanted to whop him upside the head with a two-by-four.
She squared her shoulders and faced Max. “Yes, sir. I would. I’d love to stay here.”
Max patted her shoulder and heaved a sigh. “Great, Essie. Let me show you around.”
That was a first, Essie thought, leaving Max at the front door and heading for her car. In Detroit, she’d haggled over every merit raise, as if each nickel would make a difference. Here, she’d accepted a job without knowing how much it would pay, exactly what her duties or hours would be or even what her accommodation would look like.
She started down the bark walkway thinking her instincts had been right. The room had turned out to be a cozy little suite—a bedroom, a sitting room with a fireplace and her own bathroom. It meant the wages were lower than what she was used to, but what would she need money for out here in the wilderness? She paused and turned back to the log house that would soon be her home. Over the roof line she could see the matching pair of mountains she’d spotted earlier. She wondered how far away they were. They seemed close, yet...
“We call ’em the MoJoes.”
Startled, she swung around and saw Ryder, squatted behind the hand-carved sign she’d noticed earlier at the end of the walkway. He was toweling it off, of all things, fingering all the grooves. She took her time closing the distance between them, afraid what she might encounter this time.
“Mo, because we think they look like giant molars.” He continued cleaning the grooves, not looking at her. “And Joe, since they overlook the fair city of Joeville.”
Essie stopped alongside Ryder and read the oval crest. Arched across the top were the words “The Montana Malones.” In the center was carved a beautiful replica of the snow-crested MoJoes, their reflections mirrored in the painted blue waters below. At the bottom of the sign were the words “Joeville, Montana, founded 1876.” She wasn’t sure she was ready to engage this man in conversation, but since he had started, she trod softly.
“How did this area ever come to be named Joeville?”
Ryder eyed her before answering, then returned to his task. “My great-granddaddy’s name was Joe. He was the first to settle here and start the ranch.” He chuckled. “In school I got the idea to change it to Joe, Montana.” A small smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Never made it official, but that’s what we call it now.”
Essie watched the sun play on his handsome face and remembered all those Friday-night football games. Without thinking, she asked, “Do you still throw a ball around...or go to any games?” She saw his face go rigid and, instantly, she realized her mistake. He looked at her sideways, the question taking shape behind his dark eyes before his lips ever moved.
“How did