The Cowboy's Christmas Surprise

Taking out a number of singles, Ray left them on the counter as he slid off his stool. The wrapped-up, partially consumed jelly donut was in his hand. “Good thing I love you, Miss Joan,” he said to the woman as he walked passed her. “Because you sure have a way of knocking down a man’s ego.”

Miss Joan shook her head, a knowing smile on her lips. “You’re not a man yet, Ray. Come back and talk to me when you are,” she concluded with a smart, sassy nod of her head.

“And you,” she said in a low, throaty whisper as she walked by Holly. “Stop looking at him as if he was the cutest little kitten in the whole world and you were going to just die if you couldn’t hold him in your arms and call him your own. You want him, missy? Go out and get him!” Miss Joan ordered the girl who’d been in her employ for the past five years.

Holly’s eyes darted around to see if anyone within the immediate area had overheard Miss Joan’s succinct, albeit embarrassing romance advice.

To her undying relief, apparently no one had. And the person who actually counted in all this was on his way to the front door—to run whatever errands he had for his father and to shoot the breeze with every pretty girl and woman who crossed his path.

Holly had no idea she was sighing until Miss Joan looked at her from across the diner. While she didn’t think she was possibly loud enough to be heard the length of the diner, she did know that Miss Joan had the ability to intuit things and read between the lines, no matter how tightly drawn those lines might be.

She also knew that she owed a huge debt of gratitude to the woman. Miss Joan had offered her a job out of the blue just when she’d needed it the most and would have given her a roof over her head if she’d needed that, as well.

It was Miss Joan who had taken an interest in her and encouraged her to take some courses online, following up on her dream to become a nurse, specifically, an E.R. nurse, when her dreams of going to college to pursue that career had crumbled. It was Miss Joan who’d had faith in her when she had lost all of it herself. And Miss Joan had come through without a word of criticism or complaint when Holly suddenly found herself a mother—without the excitement of having gone the usual route to get to that state.

She flashed a smile at the woman now, tucked away her starry-eyed look and got back to work. Miss Joan wasn’t paying her to daydream.

Chapter Two

“C’mon, Holly, say yes,” Laurie Hodges, one of Miss Joan’s part-time waitresses, coaxed as she followed Holly around the diner.

The latter was clearing away glasses and dishes bearing the remnants of customers’ lunches.

Every so often Laurie would pick up a dish, too, and pile it onto her tray. But the twenty-four-year-old’s mind wasn’t on her work, it was on convincing her friend to do something else besides work.

“You never have any fun,” Laurie complained, lowering her voice so that those who were still in the diner wouldn’t overhear. Bending slightly so as to get a better look at Holly’s face, she continued trying to chip away at Holly’s resolve. “You want to look back twenty years from now, sitting alone in your house, watching shadows swallow each other up on the wall and lamenting that you never devoted any time to creating memories to look back on? For pity’s sake, Holly, all you ever do is work.” Laurie said it in an accusing voice, emphasizing the last part as if it was a curse word.

Well, she certainly couldn’t argue with that, Holly thought. But there was a very good reason for that. “That’s because that’s all there is.”

At least, that was all there was in her world.

There was her job as a full-time waitress, and when her shift was over and Miss Joan didn’t need her for any extra work, she went home, where an entirely different kind of work was waiting for her. The work that every woman did when she had a family and a home to look after.

In her case, she looked after her mother, whose range of activities was limited by her condition and the wheelchair that had all but kept her prisoner these past few years. She also took care of her niece, Molly, who at four, going all too quickly on five, was a handful and a half to keep up with.

Then, of course, there was the house, which didn’t clean itself. And when all that was taken care of, she had the courses she was taking online. Granted, they were strategically arranged around her limited time, but they were still there, waiting for her to dive into and work through them.

All in all, that usually comprised a twenty-three-and-a-half-hour day.

That left a minimum of time to be used for such frivolous things like eating and sleeping, both of which she did on a very limited basis.

And that, in turn, left absolutely no time for things such as going out with friends and just doing nothing—or, as Laurie was proposing, going dancing at Murphy’s.

“That is not all there is,” Laurie argued with her. “My God, Holly, make some time for yourself before you’re a shriveled up old prune living with nothing but a bunch of regrets.”

Laurie caught Holly’s arm to corner her attention when it seemed as if her words were just bouncing off Holly’s head, unheard, unheeded. Holly was easygoing, but she didn’t like being backed into a corner physically or verbally.

She raised her eyes. The deadly serious look in them caused Laurie to drop her hand. But she didn’t stop talking.

“They’re going to have an actual band that’s going to be playing Friday night. One of the Murphy brothers and a couple of his friends,” she elaborated. “Liam, I think.” Laurie took a guess at which brother was playing. “Or maybe it’s Finn. I just know it’s not Brett.” Brett was the eldest and ran the place. All three lived above the family-owned saloon. “But anyway, it doesn’t matter which of the Murphy brothers it is, the point is that there’s going to be live people playing music for the rest of us to dance to.”

“Might be interesting if they were having dead people playing music,” Miss Joan commented, coming up behind the two young women.

Rather than looking flustered and rushing away, pretending to look busy, Laurie brazenly appealed to the diner owner to back her up.

“Tell her, Miss Joan,” Laurie entreated. “Tell this pig-headed woman that she only gets one chance at being young.”

“Unlike the many chances I give you to actually act like a waitress,” Miss Joan said, her eyes narrowing as she gave the fast-talking Laurie a scrutinizing look. “Don’t you have sugar dispensers to fill?” It was a rhetorical question. One that had Laurie instantly backing away and running off to comply.

Once the other waitress had hurried away, Miss Joan turned her attention back to Holly. “She’s right, you know,” Miss Joan said, lowering her voice. “I hate to admit it, all things considered, but Laurie is right. You do only have one chance to be young. You can act like a fool kid in your sixties, like some of those pea-brained wranglers who come here to eat, but you and I know that the only right time to behave that way is when you are young. Like now,” she told Holly pointedly. “Did Laurie have anything specific in mind? Or was she just rambling on the way she usually does? If that girl had a real thought in her head, it would die of loneliness,” she declared, shaking her head.

“She had something specific in mind,” Holly reluctantly told her.

Holly braced herself. She could already see whose side Miss Joan was on. She loved and respected the redheaded woman and she didn’t want to be at odds with her, but she really had no time to waste on something as trivial as dancing, which she didn’t do very well anyway. She just wished the whole subject would just fade away.

Miss Joan waited a second but Holly didn’t say anything more. “Are you going to give me details, or am I supposed to guess what that ‘specific’ thing is?” Miss Joan asked.

Unable to pile any more dishes onto the tray, Holly hefted it and started across the diner. With Miss Joan eyeing every step she took, Holly had no choice but to tell her what she wanted to know.

Reluctantly, she recited the details Miss Joan asked for.

“There’s a band playing at Murphy’s this Friday. Laurie and some of her friends are planning to go there around nine to check it out. And to dance,” she added.

Miss Joan nodded, taking it all in. “So why aren’t you going?” she asked.

Holly shrugged carelessly. “I’ve got too much to do.”

“Why aren’t you going?” Miss Joan repeated, as if the excuse she’d just given the diner owner wasn’t nearly good enough to be taken seriously. Before Holly could answer, the woman went on to recite all the reasons why she should go. “It’s after your shift. I’m sure that your mother is capable enough to babysit Molly, especially since it’ll be past your niece’s bedtime—and if for some reason your mother can’t, then honey, I certainly can.”

That surprised Holly. She knew that Miss Joan tended to be less blustery with children, but that still didn’t mean that she was a substitute Mary Poppins.

“You’d watch her?” Holly asked incredulously.

“Sure. I’ve got to get in more practice babysitting, seeing as how my first grandbaby is almost here,” Miss Joan answered, referring to the baby that Alma, Ray’s sister, and Cash, her stepson, were having. The baby was due at the beginning of January, and as time grew shorter, the woman was becoming increasingly excited.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Holly protested. “Even on standby.”

Miss Joan frowned at her. “Unless my hearing’s going, girl—and I’m pretty damn sure that it isn’t, you didn’t ask me to babysit this Friday night. I just offered.” With her hands on her small hips Miss Joan fixed her with a penetrating look. “Okay, you got any other excuses you want shot down?”

Apparently Miss Joan was not about to take no for an answer. But Holly wasn’t ready to capitulate just yet, either. “I’ve got classes.”

Miss Joan made a dismissive noise. “Online classes,” she emphasized with a small snort. “That means you can take them the next day. Or on Sunday, if you’re busy making memories Saturday night.” The final comment was punctuated with a lusty chuckle.

Holly blushed to the roots of her long, straight blond hair. “Miss Joan.” The name was more of a plea than anything else. Though she knew Miss Joan didn’t mean to, the woman was embarrassing her.

“Lots of ways to make memories,” Miss Joan informed her, brushing aside the obvious meaning behind the previous phrase she’d used. She looked at Holly intently. “Okay, like I said, any other excuses?”

“Yes, a big one,” Holly answered, unloading the last of the dishes onto the conveyor belt that would snake the dishes through the dishwashing machine against the far wall. “I really don’t know how to dance.” Because she felt it was a shortcoming, she said the words to the wall next to the conveyor belt, rather than to Miss Joan’s face.

“Well, that’s an easy one to fix,” Miss Joan informed her, brushing the excuse aside as if it was an annoying gnat. “Dancing’s fun. I can teach you. Or my husband, Harry, can. You want someone younger, I’ll ask Cash to show you the finer points,” she said, waiting to hear who Holly wanted to go with.

Had Miss Joan forgotten that her stepson was in a very unique situation? “Just what he wants to be doing when his wife’s on the verge of having their first baby. Teaching me how to dance,” Holly quipped.

“Sure, why not?” Miss Joan asked. “I think it’s perfect. It’ll take his mind off worrying about everything for a little while—and it’ll perform a useful service for you.”

Holly sighed. The woman was like a Hydra monster. No matter how many heads she lopped off, Miss Joan just grew some more and kept coming right back at her.

“Miss Joan, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do here, I really do,” Holly said emphatically. “But I don’t have time for any dancing lessons, just like I don’t have time to go to Murphy’s and—”

Out of the blue, Miss Joan gave her a look. The kind of look that made strong men doubt the validity of their cause and rendered frightened young waitresses like Laurie speechless. Holly, however, was made of far sterner stuff than the average person, due to all the responsibility she had shouldered from a very young age.

So she braced herself and listened, hoping she could offer a successful rebuttal.

“You like working here at the diner, girl?” Miss Joan finally asked after a sufficient amount of time had gone by.

Here it comes, Holly thought. “Yes, ma’am, you know that I do.”

Miss Joan’s expressive eyes narrowed, bringing in her penciled-in eyebrows. “Then if you want to have a job on Monday, you’ll go to Murphy’s with your friends on Friday and you will have fun,” she ordered forcefully.

“Hey, old woman.” Eduardo, the longtime cook, called to her as he stopped puttering around in his kitchen and came forward. “You cannot just order someone to have fun. It does not work that way, but then, perhaps you have never had any fun yourself so you would not know that.”

“Maybe you can’t order someone to have fun, but I can,” Miss Joan assured the short-order cook in a voice that said she wasn’t going to brook any sort of rebellion or challenge, especially from him.

That resolved, Miss Joan turned her attention back to Holly. “So, girl, what’ll it be? You going to Murphy’s on Friday night and coming to work on Monday, or are you staying home, studying and looking for a new job come Monday morning?” Miss Joan asked.

“You wouldn’t fire me over something like that,” Holly pointed out with some certainty.

“No,” Miss Joan agreed and let her savor that for approximately two seconds before adding, “I’d fire you over your insubordination.” When Holly looked at her, confusion in her eyes, Miss Joan elaborated. “I told you to do something and you out-and-out refused. That’s pretty sassy if you ask me.” Miss Joan smiled at her, and it was one of the few genuine smiles that seemed to register on the woman’s lips and in her hazel eyes, as well. “In other words, insubordination. So what’ll it be?” she prodded, waiting to hear the answer she wanted to hear.

Holly sighed. She’d known in her heart it was going to end this way.

“I’ll go,” she said.

Miss Joan’s eyes met hers and it almost felt as if the woman was delving into her very soul as she asked in a clear voice, “You’re sure?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. I’ll go,” Holly repeated, still not certain how this had all come about now that she looked back at it. “But I won’t dance.” That, to her, was as far as she was willing to concede. She absolutely refused to make a complete fool of herself.

At least she would be among friends, she consoled herself.

For the time being, what Miss Joan had heard seemed to be enough, though she shook her head as if despairing over the young woman. “I guess you can lead the filly to the dance floor, but you can’t make her dance. Still, something is better than nothing, I always say.” She patted Holly’s shoulder. “Good girl. Remember to have fun. That’s an order,” she added with a near growl.

“What did she say?” Laurie asked, venturing forward rather quickly once Miss Joan had made her way to the opposite end of the diner. Laurie looked as if she was dying of curiosity.

Holly began putting down fresh place settings at each table that was no longer occupied. Rather than helping, Laurie just started to follow her around again, oblivious to her obligations as a waitress who was not on a break.

“She told me to go out with you, Cyndy and Reta on Friday,” Holly told her.

Laurie’s eyes all but lit up. They were definitely wider. “Really? How about that? There’s hope for the old girl yet.” Laurie laughed, glancing over her shoulder to where Miss Joan was behind the counter. And then she turned her attention back to Holly. “So you gonna listen?”

Holly was fairly certain that Miss Joan wouldn’t fire her over something as trivial as this, but if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t a hundred percent sure. Miss Joan had been known to do some very strange things in her time, all because she felt she was right. The very last thing Holly wanted was to challenge the woman.

Besides, on the outside chance that Miss Joan had meant what she said, she definitely couldn’t afford to lose her job. Granted, there were other jobs in Forever, but she had gotten comfortable in this one. There was the added fact that Miss Joan allowed her to take leftovers home to her mother and Molly.

It might not seem like a lot to someone else, but she was of a mind that every tiny bit helped. Someday, when she finally got her nursing degree and her courage up to ask Dr. Davenport if he’d hire her as his nurse, she intended to pay Miss Joan back for all the times the older woman had looked the other way and allowed her to bend the rules.

Like the time that her mother and Molly were both sick and she had to stay home to take care of them. Miss Joan not only allowed her to take the two days off, but she paid her for them as if she was at work. And, on top of that, she’d sent over one of the waitresses with soup for her mother and niece, and food for her because, “If I know her, that fool girl will be so busy taking care of her family, she’ll forget to eat herself.”

Miss Joan had been right, Holly recalled. She had been so busy caring for the two patients she’d entirely forgotten to eat.

Miss Joan always covered all the bases, Holly thought with no small amount of affection.

Her eyes dancing, it was obvious to Holly that Laurie was making even more plans for Friday night. The young waitress looked as if she was ready to go now rather than have to wait until the end of the week.

“If you don’t have anything to wear,” Laurie suddenly said, turning toward her, “you can borrow something from my closet. We’re about the same size,” she guesstimated, looking Holly up and down. “I’ll be happy to share anything I’ve got.”

Did Laurie think that she was that poor? “I’ve got a dress,” Holly protested with a touch of indignation she didn’t bother hiding.

“Oh.” Holly’s response had clearly surprised her. “Okay, then you’re all set,” she said happily. “I’ll come by to pick you up at 7:30 p.m. Friday night.”

She didn’t want Laurie going out of her way. “Why don’t I just meet you there?” Holly suggested.

“Because you won’t,” Laurie responded. She looked at her friend. “I know you, Holly, so don’t even go there. I’ll pick you up,” she repeated. “And we’ll have fun,” she promised with feeling. “You’ll see.”

With all the things she had on her mind, Holly thought, she highly doubted it. But she knew better than to say so.

So instead, she forced a quick flash of a smile to her lips, then murmured something about having “inventory to do” as she walked away from Laurie and headed toward the tiny back office.

Chapter Three

Her time factor down to the wire, Holly stared into the small, narrow closet in her bedroom. She’d been staring into it for a couple of minutes now.

It wasn’t as if she was trying to decide what to wear, because there was so much to choose from. There wasn’t. She knew every article of clothing that hung there by heart.

She had exactly one all-purpose dress that she’d worn to her high school graduation, to the funeral of a friend of her mother’s and to a small number of other, lesser occasions. Money was tight. She saw no reason to spend it on something frivolous when there were so many more worthy items that needed to be bought first—like toys that lit up Molly’s eyes and clothes for the girl’s ever-growing little body.

The all-purpose, A-line, navy blue dress was certainly still in decent condition, but she had to secretly admit that part of her wished she’d taken Laurie up on her offer when the waitress had suggested lending her a dress for this evening.

The next moment, Holly shrugged the thought away. Murphy’s wasn’t all that well lit anyway, and besides, she was not looking to impress anyone. She was just giving in and going out tonight so that Laurie and Miss Joan would stop saying she needed to get out more and socialize.

After all, it wasn’t as if she was bored. God knew she had more than enough to keep her busy, and she didn’t feel a lack of anything in her life. She wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or a husband. Her heart definitely wasn’t up for grabs.

It was already spoken for.

She’d been in love with Ray for as long as she could remember. That wasn’t going to change, and as long as she felt that way, she wasn’t about to go looking for a boyfriend. She wouldn’t feel right about it. Her heart definitely wouldn’t be in it.

She’d never been one of those girls who felt she needed a man at her side to complete her. She knew better than that. She had always been her own person, and that person was as busy as any two or three people had a right to be.

“You know, it doesn’t matter how long you stare into it, nothing new is going to pop up in that closet,” Martha Johnson said as she wheeled herself into her daughter’s small, tidy bedroom.

“I know, Mom,” Holly acknowledged wearily, still staring into her closet. “I was just wondering if it wouldn’t be better all around if I just stayed home tonight.” She certainly didn’t need to dig for excuses. She had plenty of those. “I’ve got that test to study for and Molly’s just getting over a cold—”

“At this age, Molly’s always going to be getting over a cold,” Martha pointed out patiently. “And from what I understand, the beauty of taking those courses in the isolating privacy of your own room is that you can take those tests whenever you want—on your own schedule, not the teacher’s or whoever it is that’s hiding on the other side of that monitor. Anyway, you’re going and that’s that.”

“Mom, what if Molly wakes up—” She got no further. Her mother had raised her hand, calling for silence.

“So she wakes up. I’ll handle it. Don’t make me feel any more of an invalid than this chair already makes me feel, Holly,” she pleaded. “Besides, you wouldn’t want this dress to go to waste, would you?”

“What dress?” Holly asked, finally turning around to look at her mother.

That was when she saw it. What her mother was talking about. There on her lap, encased in a plastic, see-through garment bag, was a dress that gave new meaning to the word beautiful.

Holly’s mouth dropped open in complete awe—and concern. The dress had to be expensive. She wasn’t about to allow her mother to throw away money on her like that, especially since there wasn’t all that much to toss around. They were still paying off the medical bills associated with the car accident that had put her mother into that wheelchair.

“Mom, you didn’t—”

“No, Holly, I didn’t,” Martha quickly assured her daughter.

Her mother didn’t usually lie to her, yet there was the dress, on her lap. “Then where did that come from?” Holly asked.

Martha Johnson smiled. “Miss Joan’s husband, Harry, brought it over. He said she told him that this was for you and that you weren’t allowed to give it back or refuse it, otherwise you’re out of a job,” her mother said matter-of-factly. She looked down at the dress that was still on her lap. “If you ask me, this’ll look extremely pretty on you.” And then she looked up to see Holly’s reaction.

That was not the expression of a woman who was thrilled about getting a new dress.

Holly was frowning.

“Oh, Holly, smile. You look as if you are about to be sent to prison, not to enjoy a rare night out. A well-deserved night out, I might add,” Martha insisted. She shook her head, her salt-and-pepper hair moving back and forth from the motion. “Honey, I can’t remember the last time you went out for fun.”

Neither could she, actually, Holly thought. But that still didn’t make this any easier for her. Holly bit her lower lip. “Mom, I won’t fit in.”

“You won’t fit in if you wear that old navy blue dress of yours,” Martha pointed out, nodding at the dress that was still hanging in the closet. “In this bright, pretty little thing, you’ll still stand out,” she acknowledged, nodding at the glittery blue-gray dress, “but in a good way. Besides, you’re going out with your friends, aren’t you? That should make it easier for you.”