“Sounds fine.”
“You probably don’t like dogs. Irene, one of my permanent boarders, has a little Welsh corgi, and you have to be nice to him. Rules of the house.”
“I don’t mind dogs at all. In fact, I had one until recently.”
Her face clouded. “What happened to it?”
He shrugged. “Old age.” It still hurt a bit, thinking of Shadow. The big mutt had showed up at the garage, and after a couple of days Eli had been unable to resist those sad eyes and had started feeding him. Next thing he knew, he was hauling the beast to the vet, and Shadow was his. He’d kept Eli company during the day, and guarded the garage at night. He’d died last year.
A noise at the front door snagged their attention. “Yoo-hoo. Gwen? Did you fall down a rabbit hole?”
“We’re in the kitchen, Stella,” Gwen called. “But don’t bother coming in, we’re coming out.”
When they emerged into the welcome daylight, Eli saw the woman belonging to the voice. She was a cute, pudgy lady in her fifties with curly blond hair and a friendly smile.
“Eli, this is Stella Montgomery. Stella, meet our new boarder.”
Eli shook Stella’s hand. “Just temporary, until I get my place fixed up.”
“How nice to meet you,” Stella effused. “Will you join us for tea? I know Oggie would enjoy having another rooster at the hen party.” She tittered at her own bon mot.
“Thanks, but I have a lot to do.” He had to get that truck unloaded somewhere, which meant he had to find someone to help him. “Do you ladies know of a strong man who might be looking to earn some extra money? Oh, what am I thinking? Nobody in Jester needs money.”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the paper,” Gwen said.
“Ask Oggie how to get in touch with Jimmy—he’s custodian at the school,” Stella said helpfully. “Oggie’s another of your neighbors and the school vice principal. I’ll introduce you.”
GWEN SHOWED Eli his room, which he found satisfactory. She introduced him to Oggie, who grudgingly gave him Jimmy’s phone number.
After Eli left to take care of things, Gwen rejoined her guests on the porch. They all stared at her expectantly, dying to know the whole story.
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, she decided. Only Sylvia knew she’d picked Eli up in a bar and had known him precisely ninety minutes before she’d slept with him, and Sylvia would never tell.
“We won’t be seeing him again, huh?” Wyla said, enjoying the fact she could throw Gwen’s words back at her. “Apparently he has other ideas. Why’s he here? Is he going to make an honest woman out of you?”
“We’re not getting married,” Gwen said flatly.
“Why not?” Oggie wanted to know. “I’ll have a talk with that young man.”
“Oh, Oggie, you’re a dear, but I wish you wouldn’t. I believe Eli would marry me if that’s what I wanted. But it’s not necessary in this day and age. Single women raise children all the time. When I marry, it will be for love.”
Wyla sniffed. “Good luck finding a husband when you’re a single mom. You have a better chance of…” She paused.
“Winning the lottery!” Jennifer finished for her, laughter bubbling up.
Everyone else laughed, diffusing the tension. Conversation thankfully turned to other topics—like whether Shelly was carrying a boy or a girl.
But Gwen couldn’t help thinking about Wyla’s barb. She probably wouldn’t ever get married. Even before she was pregnant, the men hadn’t exactly flocked around her. She was just too darn shy, and she spent any free time she had down at Pop’s Movie Theater, escaping into her favorite pastime—alone.
It was true—single mothers had a hard time of it in the marriage department. Was she foolish to dismiss Eli as potential husband material?
Then again, he hadn’t exactly asked her. Oh, he’d mentioned a wedding as a toss-off line as he was leaving town two weeks ago, but she had no idea whether he would seriously consider the possibility. Especially if he knew he couldn’t touch her money.
AFTER TWO DAYS of living under the same roof as Eli Garrett, Gwen began to wonder exactly how he made his living. He claimed to be a mechanic. But he’d made no move to reopen Mac’s Auto Repair to the public. He had a couple of cars over there, rusty old heaps that would look right at home in a junkyard. He tinkered on them early in the morning for a couple of hours, then worked on his house, which at this stage consisted mostly of hauling debris out to the street.
She was ashamed to admit she’d made it her business to find out how he spent his time. She had a perfect view of his house out her kitchen window, or from the front porch. And if she wanted to get a bird’s-eye view of Mac’s, she went up to her apartment on the third floor and peeked out her sitting room window. Climbing all those stairs was a feat in her condition, so when she’d done it for the third time that day, she knew her interest was excessive.
But why shouldn’t she be interested in the father of her children? She wanted to know what kind of genetics she was dealing with, she reasoned.
On the morning of the third day, she was out in front of her house watering her geraniums and enjoying the view—Eli moving back and forth from his house to the street, hauling crumbled plaster and rotting lumber in a wheelbarrow. Wearing old cut-off shorts and a white T-shirt, he was even more intriguing than he’d been in khakis. He had terrific legs, hard and tanned, with well-defined muscles and a dusting of dark hair.
She remembered how that rough hair had felt rubbing against her legs. And his beard, just starting to scratch after a day’s growth, brushing lightly against her thigh—
“Gwendolyn!”
She gasped and whirled around, very nearly dousing the mayor with her hose. He jumped out of the way with more agility than a man of his girth should exhibit. Then again, she shouldn’t be throwing stones where girth was concerned.
“Goodness, you were a million miles away,” Mayor Bobby Larson said in his most unctuous tone. His blond-bimbo secretary, Paula Pratt, stood right behind him, steno-book poised to record his every brilliant word, should he give her an order. Paula’s eggplant P.T. Cruiser was parked at the curb. Like they couldn’t walk from the town hall? It was all of two blocks.
Not that Gwen herself would walk two blocks she didn’t have to, but she had a good excuse.
“To what do I owe the honor, Mayor?” Gwen asked pleasantly, though she already knew the answer. He was going to try to get her support for the hotel. She’d been one of the most strident protesters, attending every town council meeting and pointing out all the drawbacks. Shy as she was, on this matter she was adamant, and she forced herself to speak up.
She wasn’t in the mood to argue with Bobby today. Then again, as hot and bothered as she was from watching Eli, maybe a distracting argument with the mayor would help burn off some nervous energy.
Or maybe she should just turn the hose on herself.
“I hear you got another offer on your little estate, here.”
“How did you know that?” She’d opened the envelope, glanced at the offer, then put it on her desk in the office and forgot about it. She hadn’t spoken of it to anyone. “I hope Mary Kay Thompson knows that real estate transactions are confidential.”
Bobby shrugged. “Oh, I just heard it through the grapevine. You know how Jester is.”
Yeah, right.
“Are you considering the offer?” he asked.