“Okay, so how’d that go?” he asked on a low whisper.
She shrugged, motioning for him to put the container on the table. “Fine … I guess. He seems sincere but I have to be sure. He wants to meet Jasmine. I told him to come by tomorrow.”
“Want me there?”
She thought about that for a minute. “No. I think he can’t be intimidated, even by you. And I get the impression he won’t give up so easy.”
“He has a right to know his niece, Arabella.”
“Yeah, well, I have a right to protest that.”
“Not a legal right,” Zach reminded her. “But as a mother—a guardian of sorts—yes, you have certain rights. You’ve been taking care of Jasmine for a while now. Besides, from what I could find out, he’s not married. Why would a bachelor want to deal with a niece?”
Arabella fussed with the silverware on the table. “I won’t let him talk her into moving away.”
“She’s entitled to make up her own mind. She and Cade have been planning to move anyway. Or at least Cade’s planning on going away to college.”
“What if she does decide to go to Denver, though? What if she wants to leave for good?”
Zach patted her arm. “We’ll deal with that if it happens. You’ve always said she was free to go if she wanted to. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”
Arabella wanted to tell her handsome cousin that trouble always had a way of finding her before she even thought of borrowing it. But a commotion near the entranceway to the fellowship hall caught her attention.
Zach started to speak again, but Jasmine pushed through the room and hurried toward them. “Arabella—”
Someone called from across the room. “Arabella?”
“Hold on a minute, Jasmine,” Arabella said, turning. “Oh, great. It’s Dorothy Henry. Probably wants me to serve on yet another committee.” Dorothy ran the Lucky Lady Inn and kept her nose in everyone’s business. She was always trying to fix Arabella up with eligible bachelors. “She’s waving to me. I’d better go.”
Zach shot her an amused look. “Better you than me.”
Jasmine grabbed Arabella’s arm, fear shadowing her blue eyes. “I need to tell you something.”
Arabella’s whole system hissed and buzzed. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“That man is still here—the one we saw a while back. Remember he drove by our house and stopped at the corner? I just saw him outside again talking to some other people.”
Arabella noticed the worry in the girl’s blue eyes. Had Jonathan already said something to Jasmine? “Did you talk to him?”
“No, I came back into the kitchen before he saw me.” “It’s okay. I’ve already spoken to him. I’ll explain later. In private.”
Jasmine didn’t look so sure. “Maybe he left.” “I told him to leave, yes.”
Dorothy shuffled in and headed toward Arabella, her cane hitting the linoleum, her patchwork purse swinging as she gave Arabella another frantic wave then called out, “We have a guest. And I especially wanted you to meet him.”
Arabella waved back then turned to face Jasmine, hoping to distract her. “We’ll talk later. Will you and Zach make sure we have enough coffee made? And we need ice for water and tea.”
Zach pushed Jasmine toward the kitchen, then called over his shoulder to Arabella. “Go, go. We’ll take care of the drinks. But remember, I’ve got your back.”
“Good to know,” Arabella replied as she looked back at him.
Then she turned around to find Jonathan Turner standing there with Dorothy.
“Found him in the parking lot,” Dorothy said, smiling a bemused smile. “Told him to get on in here and have some dinner with us. And I especially wanted him to meet you since he went on and on about you and your bakery the other day.” She glanced his way. “He loves your fresh-baked bread. Bought a loaf at the Cowboy Café.”
Arabella’s blood boiled over. He’d asked Dorothy Henry about her? Using her bread as a cover? “I just reckon he does love fresh bread.”
Dorothy looked confused then leaned close. “He’s a doctor from Denver. A single doctor.”
Arabella swallowed back a retort and pasted a smile on her face. “The doctor and I have met, Miss Dorothy.”
Dorothy put a hand to her faded yellow sweater. “Really now? Nobody told me that.”
Dorothy had the idea that everything happening in Clayton had to come through her first. Weddings, funerals, births, breakups and especially new people in town.
Arabella glanced around. Thankfully, Jasmine had gone behind the swinging door to the kitchen. Zach motioned to that same door then went in, probably to keep Jasmine busy.
Jonathan looked as uncomfortable as Arabella felt. “We met briefly earlier out in the parking lot. We haven’t had a chance to really get to know each other.” Giving her an apologetic but challenging look, he reached out a hand. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Michaels.”
Arabella took his hand, shaking it in spite of her better judgment. His grip was firm, his fingers lingering on hers while his eyes swept over her face. Did she see longing there in his misty eyes, a plea for forgiveness, maybe? Or was this just another one of his tricks?
The room turned from uncomfortable to a bit too warm.
“Call her Arabella,” Dorothy suggested. “You two can’t be that far apart in age.”
“Arabella,” Jonathan said. “I like that name.”
“It means ‘beautiful altar,’“ Dorothy supplied with a beaming grin. “Or ‘entreated,’ depending on which name book you look at.” She winked at Jonathan. “Of course, Arabella here’s the one who’ll have you begging. For more of that good bread!”
Dorothy cackled at her own joke while Jonathan looked like a trapped raccoon.
Arabella pulled her hand away. “It’s almost time to eat. Help yourself, Dr. Turner.” She turned to go back to her spot at the serving table.
“Excuse me.” Arabella heard him, then noticed how he rushed past Dorothy, almost taking Dorothy’s purse with him, to catch up. “I’m sorry. She insisted.”
“I’m sure. Here to spy again? Pick everyone’s brains for more information on my family?”
“No … I’m done with spying. But I would like to get to know my niece. And you.”
Arabella turned on that note. “You should have tried that to begin with, by being honest. I don’t trust sneaky people. And you’d better steer clear of Jasmine tonight. She’s had a hard time of things, and I don’t want to upset her. Not here, not now.”
She glanced around and saw her cousins Marsha and Vincent across the way with Marsha’s husband, Billy Dean Harris. Uncle Samuel’s clan usually came to church when food was being offered, and they’d sure gossip about anything unusual. Especially if they found out Jasmine had an uncle from Denver.
“You can meet Jasmine tomorrow,” she said, her tone firm.
He looked genuinely crushed. “I’d like to start over, okay? Can we call a truce for now? I promise I won’t approach Jasmine. I’ll wait until you tell her.”
“Since I don’t have much of a choice, I guess I can agree to that. But … I’m watching you, you understand?”
“Got it. No more hiding in the bushes.”
She looked him square in the