A Weaver Christmas Gift Page 7

  As they stood there, listening to the uniformed minister offering the eulogy, Casey couldn’t stop thinking about how Jon’s family was completely ignorant of the life he had lived. Sharing those secrets voluntarily wouldn’t have lessened their love. But learning of them involuntarily? If they ever discovered the magnitude of what their son had kept from them, would they see it as a betrayal? Or would they understand that such things were done in hopes of protecting them?

  Even among his own family members, there were few who knew about Cee-Vid’s secret.

  The sharp report of the first rifle volley assaulted his ears, and he focused on the seven riflemen as they shot off two more rounds. Then they tucked several shell casings into the now tightly folded United States flag that had been draped over the casket.

  A prayer. More tears as the flag was handed over to parents who’d never know the whole truth.

  And it was done.

  Even offering their condolences afterward had the gloss of lies. Yes, they were professional acquaintances of Jonathan’s. No, they couldn’t join the family for sandwiches and refreshing iced tea at their home later. Yes, Jon had had a hell of a sense of humor and a deeply ingrained sense of honor.

  Then Tristan and Casey climbed back into the air-conditioned town car, which carried them back to the airport.

  By nightfall they were in Weaver, where the temperatures were a good forty degrees colder, and the only thing that Casey wanted was a drink.

  Of the alcoholic kind.

  Going to Colbys, though, was about the last thing he wanted to do. Drinking at home, alone, was about the last thing he should be doing. It was what had led to him beating the hell out of the violin that had once belonged to his grandmother Sarah. She’d died giving birth to her youngest son, Tristan, and the only way that Casey’s generation knew her at all was through their grandfather Squire.

  If Squire ever learned what he’d done, the old man—ninety-something or not—would rightfully string Casey up by his heels.

  Instead of going anywhere else, instead of drinking anything at all, he ended up seeking sanctuary in his office at Cee-Vid. But not even there, among his computers and monitors, where he used to feel most comfortable, did he find any peace.

  * * *

  Jane smoothed the edge of the banner she was hanging and fastened the last corner over the hook high on the wall above her shelves of liquor bottles. She glanced down at Hayley, who was sitting at the bar eating the grilled cheese sandwich she’d ordered for lunch. “Does it look straight to you?” From her angle, perched as she was on top of a ladder, Jane couldn’t tell.

  Hayley angled her head, studying the long rectangular banner. “Needs to come down a few inches on your side.”

  Jane adjusted it slightly, then, after Hayley’s nod, climbed down from the ladder. She walked out into the middle of the room to get a look at the banner herself.

  Each fall since she’d bought Colbys, Jane had sponsored a Halloween costume contest and toy drive in October and a food drive in November. But this was the first year she was adding a pool tournament in December, and she’d ordered a new banner advertising all the events at once. “Perfect.” She went back behind the bar and folded the tall ladder to return it to the storeroom.

  When she came back out again, Hayley had finished her sandwich and was stifling a yawn.

  “Keeping you up?”

  Hayley shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Sorry.” Almost immediately, she hid another yawn behind her hand. “Out late last night dealing with an emergency.”

  “Sheriff’s office call you in?” Jane knew Hayley was often called in by the sheriff’s department when a situation required a counselor.

  But Hayley shook her head again. “Spent half the night playing mediator to my own family members.”

  “Still in an uproar over your grandmother?”

  “Archer warned me to keep my nose out of it.”

  Jane had met Hayley’s older brother only once, when he’d come up from his home in Cheyenne to visit his sister. “I’m guessing that you didn’t.”

  Hayley’s lips twisted ruefully. “I invited her to come and stay with me.”

  “Definitely didn’t keep your nose out of it.” Jane automatically took away her friend’s empty plate and refilled her water glass. “Is she going to?”

  Hayley nodded. “Oh, yes. Vivian—I just can’t get used to calling her Grandma when I don’t even know her—is bound and determined to visit. She told my dad that she’s coming whether he likes it or not. I couldn’t very well let her stay in a motel. She’ll be here this weekend.”

  Neither Braden nor Weaver possessed anything as fancy as an actual hotel. There were accommodations to be had—clean and decent—but by no means fancy. “And then what happens once she’s here?”

  “That is the hundred-dollar question.” Hayley propped her chin on her hand and made a face. “If I knew the reasons why they were estranged in the first place, maybe I’d have a better idea.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “Yes, but I have to admit I’m not used to navigating a minefield where my own family is concerned. It’s a whole different ball of wax than doing so with my patients.” She straightened and brushed her hands together as if mentally dismissing the matter. “Are you still getting any guff from the town council over adding another pool tournament?”

  “Not too much anymore.” They’d approved her event by a narrow margin, but it had still been approved. “I’m advertising all over the state and if the registrations are high enough, it’ll just mean more tourism dollars during the town’s tree-lighting celebration. They’ve already seen the dollars my July Fourth tournament has brought in for the town. Evidently, the idea of increasing their coffers was enough to silence the protests that we had no business holding a billiards tournament during the Christmas season.” She shrugged. “Plus, the proceeds from the tournament are going to be split between the winners and local charities. They couldn’t very well complain about that.”

  “Any registrations yet?”

  “A few. But it’s still early. I figure if I get even half of the crowd I get in July, it’ll be a success.”

  “And will a certain gray-eyed man with the initials C and C be among them?”

  Jane grabbed a handful of coasters from the drawer and stacked them neatly beneath the bar. She hadn’t seen Casey in more than a week. Not since the morning he’d returned her wallet to her. “Can’t imagine why not. He’s always played before. Along with a passel of other members of the C family.” The Clays were unfailingly supportive of community events. For Casey not to enter would imply there’d been more between them than just sex.

  Since that clearly wasn’t the case, she expected he’d play and finish as well as ever. He’d won the Fourth of July tournament the year before last.

  She tapped the rounded edges of the stack again, neatening what didn’t need neatening. “I, um, I told Arlo I’d go out with him again. Sunday afternoon.” Tap, tap, tap. “There’s some picnic thing going on in Braden with a bunch of his lawyer friends.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “It’s nearly the end of October. It’ll be too cold out for a picnic. I think I should cancel.”

  Hayley snorted softly. “Since when does a little cold bother you?”

  She ignored that. “It’s only Tuesday. He’ll have plenty of time to find someone else to go with him.”

  “Thoughtful of you, though he might not agree. Why do you really want to cancel?”

  Tap, tap, tap. Annoyed with herself, she moved the coasters out of her reach. She hadn’t told Hayley what had happened when she’d gone to Casey’s place. Hadn’t told Hayley that she’d gone there at all.

  Some things were simply too humiliating to share, even with your closest friend
.

  But she was afraid she’d agreed to Arlo’s invitation as enthusiastically as she had only because she’d been so upset with Casey. And that wasn’t at all fair to Arlo.

  “Jane,” Hayley prompted. “Why cancel?”

  She gestured toward the banner. “Next to the summertime, I’m coming into my busiest time of year around here. I probably shouldn’t be off gallivanting around at some park thirty miles away.”

  Hayley just smiled faintly and gave her a knowing look. “If you say so.” Then she glanced at the oversize watch on her slender wrist. “I’d better get back to my office. I have patients this afternoon.” She started to pay for her sandwich, but Jane waved off the money.

  “You know that’s no good here.”

  Hayley tucked away her wallet. “Far be it from me to turn down a free grilled cheese sandwich.” She slid off the bar stool and glanced over her shoulder when the street-side door opened.

  Sunshine streamed through the entrance, blocked only by the tall shape of Casey as he strolled inside, his shoulders looking more massive than ever thanks to the leather bomber jacket he was wearing.

  Jane’s mouth dried.

  Casey’s cousin Axel entered behind him, and they headed toward the pool tables.

  Axel lifted a hand in a casual, easy greeting.

  Casey didn’t look her way at all.

  “Have a good time on Sunday with Arlo,” Hayley advised, loudly and cheerfully, before heading out the same door the men had just come through.

  Jane felt her face flush when Casey finally looked her way at that.

  She turned her back on him and started hanging a garland of Halloween pumpkins and white spiderwebs from the shelves behind her, but the tingling on the back of her neck told her when he came up to the bar. She schooled her expression and looked at him over her shoulder. “What’ll it be? Usual?”

  “It’s barely past noon.”

  She turned to face him as if he were any other customer. “It’s always five o’clock somewhere.” She tossed a towel over her shoulder and managed to look at him without really looking at him. “But I’ve got plenty of that fancy root beer your cousin Erik likes and the best iced tea in town, if you’re on the wagon for some reason.”

  “Janie—”

  So they were back to Janie. She wished she knew him well enough—knew him at all—to understand what significance that held. If any.

  She stretched her lips in a superbly bright smile. “Jerry’s got fresh pecan pie over in the grill, if you’re looking for a bite. He’s been perfecting it to enter in the Harvest Festival bake-off in a few weeks.”

  “I don’t want any pie.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But it’s half-off today.” Judging by the home Casey had, she was guessing he didn’t need to worry about saving a few bucks on a piece of pie, or anything else, for that matter. She looked beyond him and raised her voice. “Axel, you want some of Jerry’s pecan pie?”

  The tall blond man was racking the balls. “Sounds good to me, Jane. Thanks.”

  “Coming up.” She tossed the towel down by the sink and even though she could have entered the order from her register behind the bar, she headed toward the grill—and away from Casey.

  She wanted to dawdle, but she didn’t. She was the only one manning the bar at that hour, so leaving it unattended wasn’t an option. She served up the thick wedge of pie herself, grabbed a napkin and silverware to go with it and carried it all back into the bar.

  Casey hadn’t moved.

  Ignoring him, she took the pie over to the high-top next to Axel’s pool table and set it there. “Jerry’s outdone himself,” she told him easily. “Enjoy.”

  Then, because she couldn’t really avoid it, she went back behind the bar and returned to her chores.

  “We should talk.”

  Her shoulders stiffened when Casey spoke. She climbed up on her step stool so she could better reach the shelves with the garland. “Can’t imagine why.”

  “About what happened.”

  She wished that her bar were crowded to the gills, because he never would think about broaching personal matters if they’d be easily overheard. “We made a point not to talk about that stuff from the get-go.” She stretched farther, draping and pinning cobwebs like some sort of decorating maniac. “Don’t see any reason for a policy change now.”

  “Dammit, Janie—”

  “Was just habit,” she spoke over him. “A bad sexship habit, but nothing to lose sleep over. Not for me, anyway.” It was such a blatant lie she was tempted to check whether her nose was growing. And when the phone hanging on the wall next to the register rang, she was pathetically grateful to scramble off the ladder and answer it.

  It was Arlo. Either God was punishing her for her sins or sending her a life vest. She honestly wasn’t sure which. But either way, she pushed far more enthusiasm than she felt into her greeting. “Arlo! I can’t wait for Sunday. I even went out and bought myself a new outfit.” She had bought a new dress over at Classic Charms. But only because it had been on sale, left over from summer. Wearing it to an outdoor picnic in October would never work.

  Mercifully, Casey seemed to give up and returned to the pool table across the room.

  She kept her back toward him and pulled in a deep, necessary breath.

  Arlo was talking in her ear, saying something sweet about his looking forward to it, too, and guilt congealed inside her. But it wasn’t enough to make her do what her conscience demanded: cancel the date.

  Not with Casey standing fifty feet away.

  Finally, the call ended and she hung up, only to have the thing ring again before she’d even taken away her hand. She picked it up, expecting Arlo had forgotten to relay some detail.

  But it wasn’t Arlo.

  It was her ex-husband, and true surprise swept through her. Since their divorce nearly ten years earlier, their encounters—despite his involvement in her purchase of Colbys—had been few and far between. Not because of acrimony, but simply because he was always busy. He was a died-in-the-wool workaholic. He had been before their divorce and nothing had changed after. The only thing that had was that his work had paid off. He’d become ridiculously successful along the way. And as a way of making it up to her for the failed marriage, he’d given her the means to buy Colbys. “Gage! How are you?”

  * * *

  Casey heard her greeting from across the room and biffed the shot he’d lined up so badly that Axel practically howled with laughter.

  He ignored his cousin and tried to listen to Janie’s end of the conversation. But she still had her back turned, and though the volume on the jukebox was low at that particular time of day, it was loud enough that he could catch only one word out of every ten.

  Whether he could hear or not, though, he could still read the visual cues, including the way she suddenly reached out for the stool she kept behind the bar and sat down. The way she rested her forehead in her hand, nodding occasionally as she listened, the receiver clutched in her fist.

  She’d told him, shortly after they’d squabbled their way into bed together, how her ex-husband had enabled her purchase of Colbys. He’d said then, and he’d still say it now, that a financial investment of that magnitude meant there were more ties left between them than she admitted. That there was still unfinished business between her and her ex-husband. She, of course, had contradicted him pretty much the way she contradicted most everything he said.

  But there’d been no point in arguing with her about it. As she’d said then, why did it matter to him, anyway? It wasn’t as if he had any cause for jealousy. There were no emotional entanglements between her and Casey.

  Continuing to gnaw at the issue might have suggested otherwise.

  So he’d left it alone.

  And now Janie was showing all th
e signs of shocked devastation over whatever was being said by her ex-husband.

  She hung up the phone, and even from across the bar, Casey could see her pallor before she disappeared into the storeroom.

  He stuck his cue back on the wall rack and headed after her.

  “’Bout damn time,” he thought he heard Axel mutter behind him, but he couldn’t be sure, because his cousin had a mouthful of pecan pie.

  She was in her office, hunched over in her chair, staring blankly at her computer screen. The same one she’d said she was going to replace but obviously had not.

  And the second he stepped into view, she stiffened. “Authorized personnel only back here.”

  He crouched beside her chair, spinning it around so she had to face him. “What’s wrong?”

  She did her level best to push his hands off the chair arms but was no match for him. After a moment, she gave up and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I’m sorry.” Her cool tone said she was anything but. “Didn’t we establish already that sharing what’s upsetting us is very clearly out of bounds?”

  He frowned. He wasn’t likely to forget what had occurred when she’d shown up at his house. He didn’t want to verbally regurgitate those events, but he knew she deserved something from him. An apology at the very least. “That was a bad night. I didn’t handle it very well.”

  She looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the sheen in her eyes, and he felt even more like the crumb he was.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “Don’t cry.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” She dashed the back of her hand over her cheek. “I’m upset because my mother-in-law, former mother-in-law, had a major stroke last night. She died this morning. She was a really great lady and deserves my tears.”

  Whereas he didn’t. Message received loud and clear.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. He’d lost two people—probably three—whom he’d spent the past few years trying to protect. But that wasn’t something he could share. He pushed to his feet. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Her brows pulled together as she eyed him. “Like what?” Her lips twisted. “You want to go with me to her funeral? You’ve got an appropriate suit, at least.”