Fortune's Twins

“You know where to find me. Due date’s October tenth. Um, Eli, suppose you are the father. What did you have in mind?” She had a strong feeling his plans didn’t include paying child support.

“A wedding, of course.” He tipped an imaginary hat. “I’ll be seeing you.”

Gwen just stared, her mouth gaping open, as he stood and walked across her porch, down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. She watched as he walked down Main Street and climbed into his car—the classic Jaguar that had passed her on the highway earlier.

A wedding, huh? Very noble of him. For a few moments, she let herself think about that. White lace—well, maybe not white, she amended—and promises, just like the old song. Her friends around her. Cake and champagne, the bride and groom dancing. His Jaguar, painted with shoe-polish quips about the wedding night.

A honeymoon…the best part.

She sighed. That was some far-out fantasy. She might be willing to marry Eli Garrett. But the moment she mentioned the prenuptial agreement she would require, he would probably run for the hills. A prenup might seem cold, but she wasn’t going to make the same mistake her mother did.

AS HE DROVE back to Denver, Eli tried not to be angry with Gwen. But he was, dammit. She’d been trying to get rid of him, and that stung.

Eli was a businessman. Among other things, he bought and sold cars, and some of the wiliest liars in the world joined him in that occupation. So Eli had gotten very good at telling when someone was lying to him.

Gwen Tanner had been lying through her pretty white teeth. For some reason she hadn’t wanted him to believe he was the father of her child—children, he corrected himself.

Perhaps she just didn’t want a man around. Maybe she’d approached him at The Wild Mustang for the sole purpose of getting pregnant. He’d heard of stranger things.

But that scenario didn’t fit the woman he’d spent the night with. Granted, he couldn’t claim to really know her after only a few hours together. But they’d connected on some elemental level. She’d been sincere that night—he was sure of it. She’d left him her number, and she’d wanted him to call.

Two explanations for her behavior occurred to him. One, she didn’t want to “trap” him. Maybe she sincerely believed all that stuff she’d told him, that a man shouldn’t have to be responsible for one lapse in judgment. Kind of cockeyed reasoning, but plausible.

The second possibility—that Gwen didn’t want him anywhere near her money—also made sense. She didn’t know him, after all. He might be some male version of a gold digger.

Neither problem was insurmountable, Eli decided, his habitual optimism coming to his rescue. Once Gwen got to know him, she would realize that he didn’t want or need her money. And he would make her see that being a father wasn’t some huge price he was being forced to pay. He wanted—no, insisted on—a role in his children’s lives. He might not have a clue how to be a good father, but surely a clueless father was better than none at all.

Eli didn’t remember either of his parents, didn’t even know who they were. He’d been abandoned as an infant. But he was somewhat of an expert on foster parents. He’d lived in sixteen different foster homes during his childhood. Sometimes the surrogate parents meant well. Some had been indifferent, interested only in the money they received from the government for his care. A few were downright cruel. He’d never bonded with any of them, never kept in touch after he moved on.

He was partly to blame for that. He’d been a difficult kid with a chip on his shoulder. He’d resented the parents who had abandoned him. That resentment had fueled his ambition. Early on he’d decided to make something of himself, to prove how wrong his foolish parents had been to reject him. He’d mostly stayed out of trouble, learned a trade, started his own business and achieved success beyond his wildest dreams. But the resentment had kept everyone at arm’s length.

Well, his kids weren’t going to resent him. They would have to find some other motivation to succeed in life. He was going to be there, dammit.

He pressed harder on the gas, pushing the Jag to seventy-five. He had a lot to accomplish in the next couple of weeks.

THE SUMMER HEAT WAVE finally broke as September rolled around. With the high temperature only reaching the seventies, Gwen felt a renewal of her customary energy. She baked with a vengeance in her new, modern kitchen, delivering more pastries to the bookstore than the patrons could possibly eat. She tried out new recipes on her boarders and she finished the nursery—now with two of everything. Today she was serving afternoon tea on the porch. She’d bought more wicker furniture, enough to accommodate a dozen people, and she’d invited a few people over. She’d even invited Wyla Thorne. Poor Wyla—the woman was just consumed with bitterness over the fact that she’d quit the lottery pool one week too early.

As she set the wicker table with a cabbage-rose cloth and matching napkins, she counted the days and realized she hadn’t heard a peep out of Eli in two weeks, which was a mixed blessing. Her rational side was sure he was attracted to her money. After all, men had never exactly flocked around her when she was slender and moderately attractive. Well, she didn’t have two noses or anything. Now that she was the size of a Goodyear blimp, men ran the other way when they saw her coming.

Sylvia said it was because men got a little nervous around a pregnant woman. But Gwen suspected the men in Jester were terrified of being roped into surrogate fatherhood. It wasn’t just that she was pregnant, it was that she was single and pregnant.

Eli had apparently come to his senses and joined the crowd. He’d probably decided her fortune wasn’t worth playing dad to twins. The price was too high.

But her romantic side craved his presence. All his talk of weddings had made her skin tingle with awareness. Would he really want to marry her if he knew the twins were his? Even with a pre-nup, married to her he could still live a life of ease. For the tenth time that day, she conjured up an image of her and Eli living as husband and wife.

Gwendolyn Garrett. That was a very nice name. Although she might keep Tanner, since she couldn’t change the name of the boardinghouse. That would be an insult to her grandmother.

“Yoo-hoo, hi, Gwen!”

Her fantasy bubble burst, Gwen looked up to see Mary Kay Thompson waving at her from the yard next door. Mary Kay dabbled in real estate sales, though Jester wasn’t exactly a hotbed of activity in that industry.

“Guess what?” Mary Kay called out. “I finally sold this house!” She made a show of hanging a SOLD! placard on the bottom of the fading For Sale sign.

“That’s great!” Gwen called back. “Who bought it?”

“Some guy from out of town.” Mary Kay minced over in her high heels and joined Gwen on the porch. “And I’ve got something for you.”

“Not another offer.”

“’Fraid so.” She reached into her voluminous, flowered purse and produced a thick manila envelope, handing it to Gwen.

Gwen tucked it into her apron. “Thanks, Mary Kay. But I’m not selling.”

“I wouldn’t, either,” Mary Kay gushed. “Not that I wouldn’t mind the commission, but you’ve got the prettiest house in town, now that it’s all fixed up.”

“Thanks. Will you stay for tea?”

“No, I need to get home to Pumpkin. He suffers from separation anxiety when I’m gone. Dr. Hartman gave me a prescription to calm Pumpkin’s nerves, but I still worry about him.”

In Gwen’s opinion, Mary Kay was the one who needed the prescription. All Pumpkin, her fat orange barn cat, needed was to live a normal cat life. Sometimes Mary Kay took the cat, which she claimed was some rare breed of Persian, on walks around town wearing a pink rhinestone collar and matching leash.

“Thanks, anyway,” Mary Kay said, fluffing her permed blond hair. “Your new neighbor should be moving in right away. Keep an eye out and let me know, huh? I didn’t meet him, but he sounded cute over the phone. And he’s single.” She turned and tiptoed down the steps, hips wiggling beneath her short, red skirt, blond hair sprayed helmet-stiff.

Gwen smiled and shook her head. Amanda always joked that Mary Kay was ragingly single. She’d made a play for Jack Hartman, the vet, bringing Pumpkin to him at least once a week with a new, imaginary illness. That was before Jack and Melinda, his partner, had announced their engagement.

As four o’clock approached, Gwen’s guests began arriving. Stella and Irene had dressed for the occasion in pretty dresses. They were both so dear to humor her.

“This is so nice,” Irene Caldwell said, fingering the tablecloth. Irene had been a widow for ten years, and had lived at Tanner’s for six. She was quiet, had no children and generally conducted herself in a dignified manner. Her only indulgence was Benny, her aging Welsh corgi. Though Gwen’s grandmother hadn’t allowed pets, Gwen had made an exception for Benny, who was very sweet and well behaved. Besides, Irene would never have moved in without her dog, which her husband had adored. The little tan dog was twelve now but still going strong, and Gwen found she liked having him around. He was a good watchdog.

Benny had come to the porch with Irene, and now found a prime spot under the table from which he could scarf crumbs when they fell.

The other guests trickled in. Oggie arrived home from school and brought Olivia Mason with him. Olivia was a popular teacher and, with her husband, Kyle, another of the lottery winners. Gwen had also invited Jennifer Faulkner McNeil, who’d moved to Jester only recently, though she’d spent summers here with her grandparents when she was a kid. She’d returned when her grandfather died and left her his lottery winnings. Then she’d up and married Luke McNeil, the sheriff. She arrived with Vickie McNeil Perkins, her best friend and sister-in-law.

“Did anyone see Honor on her way over?” Gwen asked. Honor Lassiter was co-owner of The Mercantile with Ruby Cade. But since they’d hired teenage single mom Valerie Simms as a manager at the store, both partners had more free time. Honor had assured Gwen she would come over today.

“You must not have heard,” Jennifer said. “Honor left on a round-the-world trip.”

There was a murmur of surprise from those who hadn’t heard the latest news, Gwen included.

“That was pretty sudden,” Gwen said. “I know she’s been a bit restless since she received her lottery winnings, but I didn’t think she’d just up and leave. When is she coming back?”

Jennifer shrugged. “No one knows.”

Gwen thought that was rather strange behavior for Honor, who was a sweet, hometown girl who’d never traveled anyplace before.

Wyla was last to arrive, though Gwen wasn’t sure why she bothered. She wouldn’t touch the sweets. She was paranoid about adding a single pound to her painfully thin figure.

Gwen forced herself to be pleasant, since the woman was Stella’s friend. “Hello, Wyla, glad you could join us.”

“Hello, Gwen. Say, I hear you cornered the fella that put the bun in your oven.”

Gwen almost dropped the teapot. “What?”

“Wyla, really,” Stella scolded.

“Well I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. He showed up at the café a couple of weeks ago,” she continued, addressing everyone, assuming they wanted to hear gossip, “then followed Gwen to the boardinghouse. They talked here on this very porch before he finally took off like a scalded cat. Who else would he be but the mystery man?”

“He could be Gwen’s cousin,” Jennifer spoke up. “Or a potential boarder. He could be anyone!”

“Gwen doesn’t have any cousins,” Wyla said. She looked at Gwen. “I knew both your parents, don’t forget.”

“Wyla, for heaven’s sake, stop badgering her,” Irene broke in. “If Gwen wants to tell us who her visitor is, she’ll tell us.” But Gwen could see Irene was brimming with curiosity, though she was too polite to voice it.

Shoot. If Wyla knew about Eli’s visit, the whole town knew. Shelly wouldn’t have said anything. But those old men who hung out at the barbershop were the worst gossips in town.

Gwen sank into a chair. Stella, looking sympathetic, took the teapot from her and assumed the duties of hostess, pouring tea and passing around the pastries.

“I guess it won’t hurt to tell you,” Gwen said. “The man is Eli Garrett, and he’s the father of my babies. But I doubt you’ll be seeing him again.”

Oggie nearly came out of his chair. “He abandoned you?” Oggie didn’t mind hanging out with the ladies. He was secure in his masculinity, and besides, he would never turn down an opportunity to be near Stella. But at this moment he looked furious, doing a pretty good imitation of an outraged father figure.

“He didn’t exactly abandon me,” Gwen said soothingly. “It was more of a mutual agreement.”

“He’s still a yellow dog,” Oggie grumbled, reclaiming his chair. “If you were my daughter, I’d get out my shotgun and there’d be a wedding!”

Gwen didn’t believe for a second that Oggie had ever owned a gun of any type. But she appreciated his protectiveness, even if it was misplaced.

Further conversation about her unwedded state was halted by a god-awful noise on Main Street. Everyone looked to see a huge U-Haul truck approaching.

“What in the world…?” Irene asked.

When the truck turned onto Lottery Lane and passed right in front of Gwen’s house, she thought the driver looked familiar. A troubling suspicion began to build in her mind, especially when the truck stopped and backed into the driveway of the Carter place next door—the one Mary Kay had just sold.

“You have a new neighbor?” Olivia asked Gwen.

“It appears so. I’ll go…welcome him.” Better to face him privately than give the town, not to mention the ever-curious reporters, another bit of fodder for the grapevine.

Gwen walked as fast as she could in her present condition. The truck’s driver opened his door and descended.

“Howdy, neighbor!” Eli said with a broad grin. “Are you the welcome wagon?”

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