A Weaver Christmas Gift. Allison Leigh
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I ended up with such competitive friends.” Hayley propped her elbows on the bar and glanced around. At three in the afternoon, the place was busy with families having late lunches or early dinners, but the bar itself was quiet.
It would pick up later, though. Friday nights were always packed at Colbys. The establishment had been a Weaver staple since long before Jane had bought it from the family of a friend she’d known since college. Well, she amended mentally, since her ex-husband, Gage Stanton, had staked her purchase of the place.
What was unusual, though, was Hayley stopping in at that hour of the day. Finished with the sparkling clean pilsner glasses, Jane turned back to her friend. “So what’s wrong?”
Hayley ran her hand down the sleek tail of her ponytail. “Who says anything’s wrong?”
Jane shook her head a little. When it came to the town of Weaver, even after several years there, they were still relative newcomers. As was Sam Dawson. But the three of them had all struck up an enduring friendship. She dumped ice into a glass, filled it with diet cola and set it in front of her friend. “You know bartenders are the best listeners. Comes with the territory.”
Hayley pulled a face and reached for the drink. “Counselors are the best listeners,” she corrected her. “My PhD in psychology says so.” She twisted the glass between her fingers. “Just some family dissension. Evidently, after more than thirty years of estrangement, my grandmother has been trying to mend fences with my dad and my uncle, and they’re not having any of it.”
Because the bar was so quiet and the restaurant section had its own complement of servers, Jane pulled up the stool she kept behind the bar and sat down to sip at her own soda. “This is their mom you’re talking about?”
Hayley nodded. “Vivian Archer Templeton.” She drew out the name, then lifted her shoulders. “She lives in Pittsburgh and has been making noises about visiting them in Braden. I think Daddy and Uncle David are wrong and should be more receptive. They didn’t really take kindly to my input. As far as they’re concerned, she’s just a selfish, filthy-rich snob who’ll never change.”
“And Dr. Templeton never goes off duty,” Jane murmured. “Is she really rich?”
“Loaded. She married into it, evidently, when she married her first husband. My grandfather. Steel or something.” Then Hayley seemed to shake off her thoughts. “Back to you and the great husband hunt. Believe me. I completely understand a ticking biological clock.” Her lips twisted ruefully as she patted her chest. “Ticktock, ticktock here, too. None of us are getting any younger. But women these days do have babies without rushing into a marriage.”
“Not me.” Suddenly restless, Jane grabbed a clean bar towel and moved to the far end to start polishing the long wooden surface. “I know society has changed since my mother did it, but that doesn’t mean single parenting is easy. As a family counselor, you would know that more than anyone.”
“True enough.” Hayley rested her elbow on the bar and propped her chin on her hand. “Though your mom didn’t make that choice alone. Your dad walked out on all of you, didn’t she?”
“She made him leave.” And once he was gone, her mother had pretended he never existed at all. Since her parents had never married, doing so had been horribly easy.
Hayley made a soft mmming sound.
Jane pulled out the chocolate box again and waved it under Hayley’s nose. “Stop looking at me like I’m one of your patients or I’m going to open this up again.”
Hayley pushed the box aside. “Fine. Since we’ve established the fact that you can’t just snap your fingers for a husband, what do you plan to do about it?” There was a smile in her eyes as she nodded toward the fishbowl on one end of the counter. “Have a drawing like you do for a free meal?”
“I’ve heard worse ideas.” Jane put away the chocolates again and eyed the bowl where people dropped in a business card or simply a name and phone number, scratched on the back of their receipt, for her weekly drawing. “I wonder if any guys would bother to enter.”
Hayley laughed. “For a chance with you? Half the men in this town—married or not—have probably had a fantasy or two about you.”
Jane grimaced. “I seriously doubt that.” She certainly hoped not. “Kind of an ick factor there, Dr. Templeton.”
“I know who isn’t at all icky.” Her friend smiled slyly. “Casey Clay.”
“I should never have told you about him,” Jane muttered.
Hayley’s smile widened. “If I were your therapist—”
“You’re not.”
“—I would suggest that you think about your feelings where he’s concerned.”
“I have no feelings,” Jane lied. “The man is impossible. He can’t even keep his truck clean. The last time I saw it, he had a pile of junk on the passenger seat that you wouldn’t believe.”
“Good family.” Hayley held up her index finger. “All of the Clays who live in the area are plain old good people.” She held up a second finger. “Well over six feet tall. Exceptional shape.” Her eyes twinkled. “Thick golden-brown hair and gray eyes. In other words, the usual good genes for that particular family.” She held up her third finger. “Intelligent.” Her pinky finger joined the others. “Good sense of humor.” She added her thumb. “Single, heterosexual male. Messy truck notwithstanding, I could go on.”
“Then you date him.”
Hayley laughed softly and glanced around the empty bar before leaning forward over her crossed arms. “You’re the one who’s been secretly sleeping with him for the past year. Seems to me he’d be your best candidate. And you realize if you’re not dating him, someone else will. Isn’t that going to bother you?”
Jane shrugged as if it wouldn’t, even though the very idea of it made her more than a little ill. “What he does isn’t my concern. He’s allergic to commitment anyway. He’ll tell you that himself.” He’d certainly said that exact thing to her more than once. Before they’d ended up in bed together, as well as after.
“You used to say the same thing about yourself.”
“Some allergies cure themselves, I guess. I want a baby.” She also was afraid she wanted Casey, but that was never going to happen. Cutting her losses now would be easier than having to later.
Hayley’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know you do, sweetie. But—” she lifted her hand peaceably “—this is just a little food for thought. Sometimes people will focus harder on a secondary issue in order to avoid dealing with a primary issue.”
“Casey Clay is not my primary issue,” Jane said flatly. “I knew exactly where we stood with each other and that’s why I ended things with him last night.” It was her own bad luck she’d allowed her emotions to creep in where he was concerned. She dragged the fishbowl over and dumped the half-dozen business cards and receipts out onto the bar top. “I can’t be hunting for a husband when I’m sleeping with him.”
She tugged off the card taped to the front of the fishbowl that described the weekly free-meal drawing and turned it over to the blank side. She pulled a pen from her pocket and uncapped it. “So what do you think? Win a free meal with Jane Cohen? Entries open to single men only?”
Hayley chuckled wryly and covered her eyes. “Girlfriend, you are just asking for trouble.”
* * *
“Is she serious?”
At the sound of his cousin’s voice, Casey looked up from the pool table where he was lining up his next shot. Erik was holding the fishbowl that usually sat on the end of Colbys’ wooden bar top.
Casey shrugged and focused on his shot again. “She gives away a free meal every week. Has for a long time. So what?”