A Family for Christmas

Sheriff Gleason, however, didn’t appear to be convinced. “Miss Pickering, until we get to the bottom of this, we don’t really know how good his word is, do we?”

She could understand the sheriff’s attitude. After all, it was his job to be suspicious and cautious. But deep in her heart she believed every bit of Leo’s story and she couldn’t bear the thought of him having to spend time locked up in jail, especially given what he’d already been through.

How could she convince the man to see things as she did? Dear Jesus, please help me find a way.

Aware the sheriff was waiting for her to speak, Eve took a deep breath, still not certain what she would say. But she knew she had to—

“How about I help Miss Pickering keep an eye on the boy?”

Eve turned and stared at Mr. Dawson. Had he just volunteered to help her save Leo? Maybe she had misjudged him after all.

* * *

Chance was as surprised by his offer as the rest of the people in the room seemed to be. He’d uttered the words without thought, spurred entirely by the urge to wipe the worry lines from Miss Pickering’s face.

He was always a pushover for a damsel in distress. This wasn’t the first time that weakness had gotten him in trouble.

But now that he’d blurted out his rash offer, he couldn’t very well take it back.

The distressed damsel and Sheriff Gleason spoke up at almost the same time.

“Mr. Dawson, that’s very kind, but I assure you—”

“Are you offering to take responsibility for seeing the boy doesn’t run off?”

Chance decided to ignore Miss Pickering’s protest and respond to the sheriff’s question instead. “Miss Pickering seems to think the boy’s word can be trusted and I’m willing to bank on that.” He gave Leo a pointed look. “At least until Leo gives me reason to think otherwise.”

The sheriff eyed him doubtfully. “That’s all well and good, but how do you plan to keep a close eye on him?”

That was a good question. But an idea was starting to form in the back of his mind. It was a bit unorthodox, but if he could pull it off, it would make him appear a hero with minimal effort on his part. And it might have the bonus of making for an interesting few days.

“I have an idea that might simplify matters for everyone. But I need to check on something before I explain.” He turned to Miss Pickering. “Can you wait about thirty minutes before we eat?”

“Of course. But what—”

He didn’t give her an opportunity to finish her question. “I’ll explain when I return.” He turned to the sheriff. “If it isn’t an inconvenience, perhaps our visitors could wait here in your office? I won’t be long.”

Sheriff Gleason took his cue and gave Miss Pickering a short bow. “Of course. You and Leo are welcome to make yourselves at home.”

But Miss Pickering was not to be denied her opportunity to protest. She had resumed her prim schoolmarm look and raised a hand. “Gentlemen, while I appreciate your attempt to assist Leo and me in this matter, don’t you think I should have some say in whatever it is you’re planning?”

Sheriff Gleason gave her a stern look. “Frankly, Miss Pickering, unless Chance here has a real good solution in mind, I don’t see how I can keep from locking the boy up, at least for as long as it takes me to get to the bottom of this matter.”

Chance tried one of his more persuasive smiles on her. “What do you say? Can you trust me to find a solution that’ll make everyone happy? Or at least reserve judgment until you hear what I have in mind?”

She didn’t seem particularly won over, but gave a slow nod. “I suppose that’s a fair request.”

So much for charming her. “Good girl.”

He saw the startled look at his familiar address, but she didn’t chide him again. Instead she turned to the sheriff. “Perhaps we can make good use of the time we’ll spend waiting for Mr. Dawson to carry out his mysterious errand. We can get started on whatever inquiries need to be made to clear up this matter with Leo.” She clasped her hands together. “After all, the sooner started, the sooner finished.”

“Good idea.” Sheriff Gleason moved around to the other side of his desk. “I’ll draft a telegram and send it off today.”

“Speaking of telegrams,” Chance said to Eve, “isn’t there someone in Tyler you need to notify about your postponed arrival?” He found it interesting that she seemed to have given so little thought to this sudden change in her own plans.

Miss Pickering’s eyes widened and she placed a hand to her cheek. “Oh, my goodness. How could I have forgotten about Mrs. O’Connell? I imagine she’ll be worried when I don’t get off the train. I must send her a telegram immediately.”

At least that had gotten her mind off quizzing him. “Well then, it looks like you folks won’t have much time to miss me. I’ll meet you back here in about a half hour.”

Chance smiled as he exited the sheriff’s office, headed for the boardinghouse. He’d succeeded in getting Miss Pickering to trust him, at least for the time being, and also in finding something to focus her attention on while he was gone. There was some hope that he could make a dent in her reserve yet. He grinned, relishing the thought of how much fun it would be to do that.

He’d have to get Dotty on board for his plan to work, but he didn’t foresee any problem with that. Knowing she would be key to helping Turnabout’s newest visitors be more comfortable would be all the incentive she needed.

Then his smile faded. Before talking to Dotty, there was one more thing he needed to do.

He’d put it off long enough. It was time to read the letter.

Chance turned his steps toward his own place. As soon as he was inside, he tore the envelope open. Taking a deep breath, he focused all his concentration on deciphering the words on the paper in his hands. Some days he had more success than others.

Today was not one of those days.

He tried again, straining his eyes until they ached with the effort. But it was no use. His brain refused to translate the markings on the paper into anything that made sense.

Frustrated and shamed once again by his inability to do what most schoolchildren did with little effort, Chance refolded the letter and shoved it back into his pocket. Sharing the news in this letter—whatever it was—wasn’t something he relished doing, but it seemed he had no choice.

Time to visit Dotty.

Ten minutes later he entered the parlor of the boardinghouse, where Dotty sat knitting.

“What, no bridge game?” he teased. “Did you just use that as an excuse not to have lunch with us?”

She set aside her needlework. “Not at all. Unfortunately Stanley wasn’t feeling well so we didn’t have enough folks to play.” Then she leaned back, a puzzled expression on her face. “Surely you and our stranded visitors haven’t had enough time to eat already?”

He took a seat across from her. “There’s been a slight change of plans. But I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

“Of course. The letter?”

Dotty knew of his affliction and had told him it was one her brother had shared. He’d hired her to take care of his account books, and she came over to his place twice a week, coincidentally on the days the newspaper was delivered. She not only handled his accounts, but she also took care of any paperwork he needed assistance with and read the newspaper to him.

Her matter-of-fact handling of the situation was a great balm to his wobbly self-esteem.

Now he pulled the letter from his pocket but didn’t hand it over immediately. “There’s that, of course. But there’s something else.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity. But why don’t we get the letter out of the way first?”

Chance nodded as he handed it over. “It’s from my father.”

She tilted her head, giving him a considering look. “You don’t sound happy at the prospect of hearing from him.”

He grimaced. “My father is not one to write unless there is something he wants.”

Without further comment, she opened the letter and began reading.

Chauncey,

Dotty eyed him in amused surprise.

He shrugged, trying to hide his irritation. “It’s my given name. I’m not overly fond of it, but Father insists on using it.”

“I see.” She turned back to the letter.

When you left Philadelphia and headed for that backwater town in Texas, I told you that you would be welcome to return home when and if you gained some maturity and restraint, and were ready to accept both the responsibilities and privileges that come with being a member of this family. Since you have not yet taken advantage of this invitation in the year and a half that has passed since that day, it leaves me to wonder if you have learned anything at all from the experience.

Dotty was doing a good job of keeping her voice and expression neutral but she had to be wondering about the letter’s tone. That was his father, though, ready to get right to the heart of the matter without wasting time worrying about trivial matters such as how one was getting on.

Dotty continued:

Therefore I have decided that I will come to visit you to see what kind of life you’ve managed to build for yourself. And while I’m there, we can use some of that time to discuss your future.

I imagine you are thinking that there is nothing for us to discuss, but in that you would be mistaken. As it happens, it recently came to my attention that you have mortgaged your place to invest in a new venture. It may interest you to know that I now own that note, so yes, I do have some stake in your future.

You can expect me to arrive by mid-December and I will plan to spend Christmas with you before returning to Philadelphia.

Dotty looked back up as she refolded the letter. “And he signs it Your father, Woodrow Dawson.”

Everything inside Chance had tensed as Dotty read his father’s words, drawing tighter and tighter, like a clockwork spring that would soon explode out of its case.

A moment later he took a deep breath and forced his fists to unclench. It wouldn’t do to let Dotty see just how strongly the letter had affected him.

“I thank you for taking the time to read that for me.”

She handed him the letter. “It sounds like you will have family with you for Christmas this year.”

That was Dotty, always looking for the silver lining. He attempted a grin. “As you can no doubt tell, my father and I did not part on the best of terms.”

“Perhaps his upcoming visit will be an opportunity for the two of you to remedy that.”

Not a chance. But he merely smiled and changed the subject. “Now, if I can impose on you to discuss the other favor I came here to ask.”

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, Chance was out the door and headed back to the sheriff’s office. Dotty had, of course, readily agreed to his scheme. But his pleasure in that was marred by the knowledge of his father’s upcoming visit and what had prompted it.

When he left Philadelphia, he’d thought he was out from under his father’s thumb for good. He should have known the despot wouldn’t let it go. That thinly veiled threat in the letter was typical of the way his father handled disagreements.

And now the man held the note to his business. What a wretched situation. If he’d known this would be the outcome he’d never have risked borrowing the money in the first place. His excitement over the work he was doing to improve the stationary engine was quickly turning to ashes. But most of the money had been spent now and there was no going back.

Having his autocratic father arrive on his doorstep in a matter of weeks spelled nothing but trouble. For the man to decide to dedicate so much of his valuable time to the planned visit was certainly out of character. Which also signaled that something important was afoot.

No matter what leverage his father thought he held over him, if he expected Chance to be any more willing to bow to his strictures now than he had in the past, he would be in for a major disappointment.

Which was how their interactions usually left his father.

How in the world had the man managed to insinuate himself into his black-sheep-of-a-son’s life again? How had he even learned about the loan?

Chance intended to get answers to those questions before he faced his father again.

And this time there would be one key difference in their confrontation. His father would be coming to him, a guest in his town, in his home—not the other way around.

And that was a strategic advantage Chance planned to make the most of.

Chapter Four

Eve waited impatiently for Mr. Dawson to return from his errand. She and the sheriff had sent their telegrams and the three of them had returned to his office several minutes ago. The sheriff was now doing some paperwork and Leo was gloomily staring out the window.

Eve chided herself for her self-absorption. As hard as this wait was for her, it must be ten times worse for him. At least she’d had her grandmother to care for her when she’d been abandoned. Leo had had no one when his parents passed away.

Heavenly Father, help me to remember that no matter how bad I may think my lot is, there is always someone struggling with something far worse.

The door swung open and Eve was relieved to see Mr. Dawson step through. About time! She popped up and met his gaze. “Well?”

His grin had an impudent quality to it. “Glad to see you missed me.”

She waved a hand impatiently—a poor substitute for stomping her foot. Didn’t he realize how anxious she was feeling? “I’m pleased to see you find some amusement in this situation, sir, but I assure you I do not. Are you ready to share your plan?”

“I am. And I’m happy to say I think this will be the answer to the sheriff’s concerns. Not to mention, to some of your problems, as well.”

Sheriff Gleason stood and came around to lean a hip on his desk. “Let’s hear it then.”

“My idea is to have Miss Pickering and Leo move into my place until we’ve settled the matter of Leo’s culpability to everyone’s satisfaction. I’ve got plenty of room over there and it’ll be good to have a bit of company for a change.”

Eve stiffened. How dare he? What kind of woman did he think she was? “Mr. Dawson, this is not only unacceptable but highly insulting. I—”

He stopped her by raising his palm and rudely speaking over her objections. “Please, hear me out. I assure you, I’ve taken the proprieties into account. I spoke to Dotty and she’s agreed to move in as well, so there will be no fodder for the gossip mills or hint of scandal associated with the situation.”

Eve took a deep breath and her face heated as she realized she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. “My apologies.”

He gave a short bow. “You’re forgiven.”

His good humor only made her feel worse. After all, his offer was generous. It not only provided a solution to the sheriff’s concerns but also solved the problem of where she and Leo would sleep tonight.

On the other hand it still didn’t sound quite proper. She couldn’t help wondering what her grandmother and aunts would think if they heard. They would undoubtedly be horrified. And they’d say it was typical of her ability to embarrass them with her thoughtless ways.

Then she lifted her chin again. They had sent her into exile, so her behavior was no longer their concern.

The sheriff eyed Mr. Dawson as he rubbed his chin. “If you’re willing to keep an eye on the boy and take responsibility for him sticking around, then I guess I’m okay with releasing him to your custody.”

To his custody? “Just a minute, gentlemen. I thought everyone here understood that, while Mr. Dawson has generously agreed to assist, I am taking responsibility for Leo’s care.”

“Of course,” Mr. Dawson said quickly. “You would undeniably have the final word in the matter of Leo’s care. I’m just going to be close by if needed. Trust me. I plan to leave all the guardianship duties to you.”

His assurance mollified her concerns, but contrarily, she was also a tad disappointed at his ready capitulation. It seemed he wanted to step in and save the day but not take any real responsibility. What kind of white knight was that?

Nevertheless, thanks to him they’d have a roof over their heads and warm beds to sleep in tonight.

Eve took a deep breath and formed a quick, silent prayer. Thank You, Jesus. You have provided for our immediate needs, and used this stranger to do so. Help me to remember Your promise that we are never alone when we put our faith in You.

“Now,” Mr. Dawson said, “why don’t we go have that bite to eat we were discussing earlier?”

When they stepped back out on the sidewalk, Eve gave her temporary landlord a smile. “Let me thank you, Mr. Dawson, for your generosity toward Leo and myself. I assure you we will try to impose on you as little as possible during our stay.”

He made a dismissive gesture. “As I said, there’s lots of room and I like company, so I’m sure that won’t be a problem.” He spread his hands. “And please, I’d take it as a favor if you’d drop that fusty-sounding Mr. Dawson nonsense and just call me Chance.”

Eve stiffened and felt the warmth rising in her cheeks. “That would be highly improper. I barely know you.”

“Nothing improper about it. We’re now members of the same household, at least for the next few days. And I assure you, folks around here are pretty informal about such things.”

She mentally struggled with her notions of propriety versus her desire to be polite. She didn’t want to risk insulting him after all he’d done. “I don’t know—”

He cut off her protest, adding a cajoling note to his voice. “Oh, come now. I would consider it a favor.”

This seemed genuinely important to him. And she could avoid using his name for the most part. She nodded with a conciliatory smile. “Very well.”

“Thank you.”

The touch of triumph in the grin that accompanied his words should have irritated her, but for some reason it didn’t.

Then he swept an arm to his left. “Shall we? Daisy’s Restaurant is just a couple of blocks in this direction.”

Mr. Dawson—she still couldn’t think of him by his first name—set a sedate pace for them, giving Eve time to study the town as they strolled. Since this was to be her home for the next couple of days, she wanted to learn as much about it as she could. And it gave her something to focus on other than the distracting man walking beside her.

The rumbling from Leo’s stomach was getting more insistent.

Chance smiled down at the boy. “Don’t worry. We’ll be there in just a few minutes. I’m getting hungry myself.” Then he glanced her way. “You’re going to like the food at Daisy’s. She’s one of the finest cooks around here.”

Eve raised a brow at that. “That’s quite a claim.”

His brow arched. “You doubt me? I assure you, it’s the absolute truth. Daisy’s had the restaurant open for only a few months and already she has quite a contingent of regulars.”

This kind of teasing banter was new to her and it flustered her a bit—but in a not unpleasant way. “Well, after such glowing praise, I am definitely looking forward to trying it out for myself.”

He rewarded her with an appreciative grin. “You won’t be disappointed.” He waved to a two-story building they were approaching. “This is where our local newspaper, the Turnabout Gazette, gets printed. Daisy’s husband, Everett, runs the place.”

“How exciting to have such easy access to a newspaper.”

“I don’t know about exciting,” he said dryly, “but it is handy. Everett prints the paper twice weekly and, don’t tell him I said so, but he does a good job of mixing local and national news.”

Then he nodded to the adjoining building. “Daisy’s Restaurant is right next door.” A moment later, he gave a flourishing wave. “And here we are.”

Eve eyed the sign hanging above the door and smiled in delight. “Oh, how clever. And how welcoming.” The Daisy’s Restaurant sign was painted in colorful, cheery letters and the i had been dotted with a drawing of a daisy. This already felt like a friendly place.

Chance grinned. “Daisy painted that herself, and it really speaks to who she is.”

When they stepped inside, he waved to the woman behind the counter. “Hello, Daisy. I’ve brought a couple of newcomers in to sample your cooking.” He gave her a cheeky smile. “And I’ll give you fair warning that I’ve been bragging on you, so you need to treat them to your best.”

The woman lifted her chin and placed a hand on her hip. “Chance Dawson, you know good and well I give all my customers my best.” While the words were said in a chiding tone, her smile indicated she hadn’t really taken offense.

As she bustled out from behind the counter it became apparent that she was with child. And that she wasn’t letting it slow her down.

Daisy turned to Eve and Leo. “Hello. I’m always glad to see new faces in here. I’m Daisy Fulton and I’m right pleased to welcome you to Turnabout and to my restaurant.”

“Thank you. I’m Eve Pickering.” Eve placed and hand on Leo’s shoulder. “And this is Leo.”

Daisy smiled down at the boy. “Pleased to meet you, too, Leo.” Then she turned back to Eve. “Are you folks friends of Chance’s?” She cast Mr. Dawson a teasing look. “He’s always been a mite closemouthed about his life before he moved here.”

Eve wasn’t quite certain how to respond to that, but fortunately Mr. Dawson spoke up first.

“These two are recent acquaintances,” he said. Then he assumed a haughty expression. “And as for my past, I like being a man of mystery.”

Daisy rolled her eyes and cast a can-you-believe-him look Eve’s way. “Some mystery.” She turned back to Chance. “Chance Dawson, you are the least mysterious man I know.”

Eve didn’t bother to hide her grin. She was getting her first taste of what it felt like to be among folks who didn’t know her history and she liked it. Very much.

Then Daisy waved them to the only unoccupied table. “I shouldn’t be chattering on like this when y’all came in here to eat. Just have a seat. The menu is posted on the board above the counter. Study it and then give me a wave when you’re ready to order.”

They moved to the table she’d indicated and Eve was startled when Chance held her chair for her. She wasn’t used to such deference. As they took their seats, she studied the room with interest. The walls were painted the color of daffodils and the windows were flanked by cheery floral curtains hemmed with ruffles, tied back to let in the sunlight. Grandmother would disapprove of such frivolity, but Eve decided she liked it.

There were seven other tables in the place, and the occupants seemed to be enjoying their meals, lending weight to Mr. Dawson’s earlier claims. She noticed the patrons were also trying to study her and Leo without being too obvious. But their curiosity seemed friendly enough and she found herself on the receiving end of more than one neighborly smile.

What really snagged and held Eve’s attention, however, was the far wall, where three tall, sturdy bookcases stood behind a small table that obviously served as someone’s desk. Both bookcases were crammed full of volumes of various sizes and colors. Such a wealth of reading material—it was all Eve could do not to cross over to read the titles.

Forcing herself to look away from the books, Eve turned back to read the menu, but not before she caught Mr. Dawson staring at her. He actually had the audacity to smile and lean back in his chair, continuing to study her.

She decided to ignore him and instead focus on the chalkboard. Unfortunately she remained uncomfortably aware of his gaze. As she read the menu, she studied the prices more than the food choices. She had to be careful with her funds—the pittance she had wouldn’t last long.

“If you’re having trouble deciding,” Mr. Dawson said a moment later, “I’d recommend the rabbit stew. It’s Daisy’s Tuesday special and always delicious.” His tone held no hint that he’d recognized her earlier discomfort.