Betting On Santa. Debra Salonen
Читать онлайн книгу.
him. I called the company this morning figuring there might be more than one Jake Chandler in San Diego, and the receptionist said Mr. Chandler was on an extended leave of absence. Apparently, he’s taking care of personal business in his old hometown in Texas.”
Cole couldn’t believe it. And he was pissed.
A voice in the distance called Blake’s name.
“I gotta run. Big meeting. Talk to you later. Let me know what Jake has to say. If he’s not strapped for cash then why the hell won’t he fix up the bar? The game just doesn’t feel the same at someone’s house.” He paused. “Have you got a table yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Work fast. The game is Wednesday.”
They said goodbye and hung up. Cole stood for a moment trying to digest the news. Jake. Rich. Successful. The freakin’ Harley he was riding should have been their first clue, Cole thought, disgusted.
Was he upset because his former best friend didn’t bother telling him he’d beat the odds and come out on top? Damn right. But considering the way Jake left town—under a cloud of suspicion, accused of setting a mysterious fire—he supposed he couldn’t blame his friend for not being in a hurry to talk about his life.
Still, they’d shared a lot back then. Apparently not so much anymore.
“Everything okay?” Ron asked when Cole went back inside.
“Yeah. Just some of the guys checking to see if I was still hosting the poker game next week.”
“Right,” Ron said. “Bet that means you’d like the table delivered ASAP. How ’bout after work?”
Ron’s wife was getting a new dining room set for the holidays and she’d offered to give Cole her old one. “Can’t today. I’m filling in for Ray Hardy at the North Pole tonight, and I have to run to town first. Do you mind my taking off after lunch?”
“Sure. No problem. Wanna do it tomorrow?”
Saturday. He’d planned to get up early and try hanging a door in the bathroom. “Perfect.”
“I’ll even deliver it, if you’re sure I get to play.”
Cole cringed inwardly but kept a smile on his face. He liked Ron. He was an okay boss but a lousy poker player. The last time he’d joined the game, he’d walked away the big winner. From foolish bets spurred on by too much alcohol…on hands that should have gone bust. His poker pals didn’t suffer fools gladly, but sometimes this was the price you paid having an open game in a small town. “Absolutely.”
“So, now that you’re getting into this Santa gig, you’re gonna be looking to find a nice girl and have some kids of your own, huh? My wife’s cousin is available. Not bad. Got some extra junk in her trunk, if you get my drift, but she can cook.”
Cole called upon his Realtor-speak to distract Ron and end the conversation. He wasn’t looking for a new wife. He wasn’t in the market for a family. If a child suddenly landed in his life, he’d deal with that. But at the moment he had his hands full just taking care of himself and his dog, a one-bark wonder who was afraid of his own shadow, but did a whole-body wag when Cole pulled into the driveway. He made a mental note to be sure Pooch had food and water before heading into SA. “AMELIA, IT’S SO GOOD to see you. You look wonderful.”
The young woman threw open the door of the small, white, box-shaped home.
“Tessa,” she exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise. Come in.”
From the outside, the house appeared identical to the other five homes grouped around an open common area where a wooden swing set and bright plastic slide shared space with a dozen or so trees no taller than Tessa.
“I hated to drop in without calling first, but…”
“No phone. I know. The price we pay to live apart,” Amelia said, ushering Tessa into the living room. Two curious little faces peeked around the cased opening leading to the kitchen.
Tessa shifted Joey on her hip and looked at the young woman who had been Sunny’s closest friend in high school. Amelia looked older. Matronly almost. Her drab brown linen skirt reached midcalf and was topped by a bulky knit sweater that hid any hint of her figure. Angled across her torso, an African batik-print cloth held an infant, barely visible near her breast.
“You have a new baby,” Tessa exclaimed.
“A week old today. I wrote Sunny. Didn’t she tell you?”
Clearly Amelia hadn’t heard. “Amelia, Sunny’s been in an accident.”
Amelia let out a small cry. “Is she okay?”
Tessa sat down on the worn, brown-and-gold plaid couch and set Joey on her lap. Hugging him lightly, she said, “Sunny flew to Texas last week and her rental car went off the road. It flipped several times and, although she was wearing her seat belt, she still suffered serious head trauma. She’s in a coma at the University Hospital in San Antonio.”
“Oh, dear heaven, no.”
At their mother’s cry, two young children, probably three and five, rushed into the room. Joey pushed her arms away to stand up. He hadn’t known many playmates in Oregon but wasn’t shy as a rule. Amelia collected herself and within minutes of introducing the children, Hosaih and Remata, the three were playing in the far corner of the room around a plastic box filled with toys and books.
“What’s the baby’s name?”
“Bayal…. He came early. Our midwife was afraid he wouldn’t make it. She wanted us to go to the hospital, but we put our faith in his life force, and he elected to stay with us.”
Amelia moved aside a bit of cloth so Tessa could see the sleeping child’s face. “He’s beautiful. I’m so happy for you all. Is your husband here? Sunny said he’s a very nice man.”
Amelia smiled. “He is. We’re happy. I wanted Sunny to like it here, but I guess what’s right for one person isn’t necessarily good for another. She was bored and frustrated almost immediately.”
“I’m trying to put together all the pieces of what happened while she was in Texas. She wasn’t herself when she came back. Less open. Secretive.”
“Sunny?” Amelia exclaimed. “You’re kidding.”
Her expression grew thoughtful then she motioned for Tessa to follow her into the adjoining kitchen. With a quick look at Joey, who was tentatively adding a block to the pile the other children were stacking, Tessa followed.
“Your son looks more like Sunny than you,” Amelia said, putting a kettle of water on the stove.
“That’s probably because he is Sunny’s.”
The kettle crashed on the burner. “He is? Sunny had a baby?”
Tessa watched Amelia do the math in her head. Her eyes opened wide. “She got pregnant while she was in Texas.”
A statement, not a question.
“Who’s the father?”
“That’s partly why I’m here. Sunny wasn’t happy in Oregon. At first, Mom and I thought she was suffering from postpartum depression, but the longer it went on, we finally figured out that she was pining for the man she loved back here. We tried to get her to talk about him, but she’d never tell us his name.”
“Oh, dear.”
Tessa sat down at the table. How much to confess? Do I tell her I’m to blame for what happened? “I…urged her to come back and confront Joey’s father. I told her it wasn’t fair to Joey to go through life not knowing.”
Amelia filled a plate with cookies stacked on a cooling rack—the delicious scent Tessa had smelled but couldn’t quite place. Amelia set them