A Texas Holiday Reunion. Shannon Vannatter Taylor
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“Thank you, Colson. It’s settled then—you can follow Jed there.” And Resa would go straight home.
“But Jed has something he needs to show you.” Marilyn clasped her elbow.
“Now, Marilyn, I told you they’re not ready.”
“Oh, pooh.” Marilyn waved her husband’s protests aside with her hand. “I don’t know how they could get any more ready.”
“You’ve got something new?” Resa’s insides warmed. She’d known Jed since she was a kid. And had mourned with him when arthritis threatened his work.
“Wait till you see them.” Marilyn’s smile broadened. “He always second-guesses himself, but I’m trying to talk him into going on a bigger scale with these.”
“She don’t need to see. They’re not ready.”
“Please, Jed.” Resa’s voice blended with his wife’s.
“Aw, shucks.” He turned crimson. “I reckon. But if you don’t think they’re up to par, just say the word. Nothing amateur is going under the Rusticks name.”
“Oh, good.” Marilyn clapped her hands. “I’ve got a dessert I’ve been dying to thaw. That Mrs. Edwards sure can turn out a mean turtle pie.”
“I’m in.” Colson let out a low whistle.
“Y’all could ride together?” Jed suggested.
“No.” The protest ripped from Resa. “I mean—we’d just have to come back here and get my car. It’s easier if we both drive.”
“All righty then.”
She wanted to see Jed’s newest creation. Wanted to encourage his one-of-a-kind craftsmanship. But it was bad enough that Colson was coming, too. Bad enough that she had to share pie with him. No way would she share a ride with him, as well.
* * *
“How about we go see the chickens.” Marilyn offered her hand.
Though her eyes filled with wonder, Cheyenne clenched Colson’s fingers tighter.
“They can’t get out. They’re all safe in the coop,” he prompted. “I’ll be right here in Jed’s workshop.”
Her grip loosened, let go, then latched on to Marilyn.
Maybe the kind women of small-town Bandera were just what Cheyenne needed. Even though this broadening of her horizons was good for her, letting her go was hard on him. He refocused.
Smooth wood, perfect gloss, no imperfections. Colson opened the lid of the box. Black velvet-lined compartments. The smell of cedar filled the workshop.
“This doohickey comes out.” Jed lifted the top tray to reveal more compartments. “And there’s a card with my number, so they can order a silver plate with their name engraved on it.”
“For an extra charge?” Resa inspected the card.
“Nope. If they buy the box the engraving is free. I figure they’ll have to come back to the store to pick up the plate and maybe they’ll buy something else.” Jed carefully set the tray back in place. “Tell it to me straight. No two-steppin’ around it.”
“They’re beautiful.” Resa’s voice was filled with awe and appreciation.
“You think?” Pride warmed Jed’s smile.
“As beautiful as the one you gave me for graduation.”
“Wait, you’ve made these before?” Colson set the cedar jewelry box down among the others. “Do we carry them in the store?”
“It’s been a long time since I made any. Did one as a gift a few years back. Gave me a hankering to make some more.”
“The one you gave to Landry.” Resa’s eyes glistened. “I saw it. Such a sweet gesture and it meant the world to her.”
“She’s obviously biased.” Jed rubbed the back of his neck. “You sure they’re good enough quality, Colson? You’re not just trying to make an old man feel good?”
“You should feel good about these, Jed.”
“Can we show them at our open house?” Resa propped her hands in a steeple, a visual plea.
Jed inspected the row of boxes on the shelf in his workshop. “If you’re sure they’re ready.”
“They’re ready. I’d stake the reputation of Rusticks on them.”
“I reckon you’re doing that.”
She stood on tiptoe, kissed his grizzled cheek, which quickly turned scarlet.
“Let’s go have some pie.” Jed gestured them to the door.
“Where’s the chicken coop?” Colson trailed Resa as Jed turned the light off. Eager to retrieve his daughter, he stepped outside, searched the yard by the glow of Christmas lights lining the house. No sign of them.
“Looks like they already went inside.”
Cheyenne never warmed to anyone that fast.
Five strides and they stepped into the cozy kitchen, where Cheyenne sat beside Marilyn at a farmhouse table with log legs. Five saucers, each bearing a generous slice of pie, waited. A Christmas tree with multicolored blinking lights, decorated with small American Flags and ornaments in red, white and blue, captured Cheyenne’s attention almost more than the pie.
“I don’t think I want any pie made from turtles, Daddy.” She scrunched her nose.
“That’s just what they call it, darling.” Marilyn patted the small head. “It’s really made from yummy stuff.”
“I think you’ll really like it.” Colson settled on her other side.
Everyone placed their drink orders and Resa helped Marilyn serve.
Chocolate, caramel and whipped cream melted on his tongue, complemented by the crunch of pecans. The only thing better than the pie was seeing Cheyenne blossom. And having Resa seated beside him. Still clueless about his daughter’s parentage.
Cheyenne spooned a minuscule bite into her mouth and her eyes rounded. “You’re right, Ms. Marilyn, it is yummy.”
“I’m glad you like it. This is nice.” Marilyn sipped her coffee. “Having young folks around. Since our kids got grown and moved to the city, it’s just us old folks milling about most of the time.”
“They remind me of us, when we were dating.” Jed shot Resa a wink.
“We’re not dating.” Her voice quivered.
“You will be.” Jed set his cup down. “I can spot it. Called it with Landry and Chase. When I been knowing a young’un for so long, I can tell.”
“Stop it, Jed.” Marilyn rolled her eyes. “You’re making her turn the color of those plums.”
Colson resisted the urge to see how purple looked on her. Partly because his face felt just as warm.
“What’s dating?” Cheyenne popped another bite of pie in her mouth.
“I’ll explain later.” Colson focused on Jed. “How long have y’all known each other?”
“I was friends with her granddad. Knew yours, too.” Jed shot her a wink. “Known her since she was born.”
“Jed was the main crafter here at the Bandera store.” Resa scooped another bite of pie on her fork. “Before your dad.”
“Until the arthritis hit. I couldn’t keep up after that.”
“But Resa and her dad encouraged Jed to do what he could, keep crafting at his own pace.” Marilyn’s gaze, full of love and respect, rested on her husband. “They’ve sold a