in her condition could be.
She hadn’t meant to lie down, but the upheaval with Cain Paxton’s arrival in town, added to the weather’s effect on her body, had left her with little choice. Not if she intended to last through the dinner shift. Once in the kitchen, she turned on the oven before inspecting the several loaves of dough she’d reworked a last time and covered with clean damp dish towels before lying down. They would produce beautiful honey-cracked wheat bread and finish baking just in time for her to carry back to town.
Once she got them in the oven, she started on the cheese sticks that Alvie liked to serve with soups and salads. The corn bread would be next. She supplemented her income by baking for Alvie, as well as taking special cake and pie orders for birthdays, anniversaries and holidays. She’d been doing that since school, having learned early in life that she had to rely on her own income if she wanted to survive. Whatever money her mother had earned—when she’d been in any condition to work—went to booze, or was mooched or taken by whatever man was in her life. What had begun out of necessity had evolved into an enjoyable creative process. The labor proved an excellent tension outlet and therapy for a shy, frightened child, who needed healthy ways to escape a basket case home life.
As she mixed the shortening and flour, her mind inevitably drifted to Cain. Had he reached his grandmother? His truck looked to be twice as old as Leroy’s, but at least it ran. For the moment.
She hoped he could make a new start. She had known her share of ex-cons in her twenty-seven years. Her mother had rarely hooked up with any other kind of man—until Stanley Wooten. Although Stanley was just lucky that he’d never been caught and locked away—like his son Dennis.
Shuddering, Merritt pushed them back into a dark hole in her mind and visually locked the door. No, she thought, Cain Paxton might look intimidating but, incredibly, he wasn’t corrupted or evil yet. He’d shown her kindness and concern, and she’d seen shame and regret in his dark eyes. He wasn’t lost. Yet.
The afternoon passed quickly and bit by bit product stacked on the counter, until Merritt knew she had to brave the intensifying storm outside and make the awful trek to town. As she packed her baked goods into the oversize thermal carrier, she hoped against hope that Leroy would show up at the road. But as she fed the wood-burning stove a last time, she knew the folly of such a wish. Leroy loved Alvie; however, that didn’t mean that he was going to compromise his comfort by coming after her, even if she was key to making Alvie’s business more successful. Especially not when he would first have to jump-start a battery that had needed replacing weeks ago.
Leaving on a kitchen light and a lamp near the aquarium for Wanda and Willy, she leaned down to the glass. “It should be an early night. Not to worry.”
Outside, the stairs were already treacherous and covered with snow. Merritt tugged the shawl over her head farther down to protect her face and vision and made the descent with care, hugging the carrier like a baby. The wind was trying to turn it into a sail and lift her off the ground. Although it wasn’t yet officially sunset, it was already growing dark. Locals and the errant vacationer would come to the café due to these awful conditions, which was the only reason she plodded on.
When she reached the road, she saw that her trail, even the truck’s tire treads, were covered by new snow. Yes, she would make it to town, but could she make it home later? She hoped the few snowplows in the area were at least keeping downtown in navigable condition.
No more than a few dozen yards up the road, she heard the sound of a vehicle behind her. As she turned, she tried to identify the vehicle, hoping to get a lift the rest of the way—or, if it was a stranger, to have time to jump aside and not be hit. Surely the driver would see her bright red shawl?
The same beaten-up, black pickup that had been parked in front of her house earlier today slowed and stopped beside her. Cain leaned over and shoved the passenger door open for her.
“Get in,” he yelled above the wind and motor.
Relieved beyond words, Merritt planted her thermal tote on the floorboard and then hoisted herself into the truck. It probably wasn’t a graceful maneuver, but she wasn’t auditioning for anything. “I’m grateful, Mr. Paxton—Cain. I didn’t think you’d be back this way again. At least not today.”
“Neither did I. I almost turned into your yard when I saw lights on, but then I spotted you up here. You are one stubborn woman.”
“I like to think of myself as a responsible employee.”
“Who takes foolish risks. You know you’d be less challenge to a wolf than a deer would be, even in this weather. I will admit you smell better than this lousy truck, though,” he added. “I take it the baking was successful?”
“If you’ll come inside for a few minutes when we reach the café, I’ll get you a cup of coffee and a couple of my fresh rolls with herb butter as a thank-you for coming to my aid.”
“I’ll take you up on that offer.”
His acceptance and the odd, weary note in his voice drew her attention. “So why are you heading back to town? Didn’t you find your grandmother?”
“I did. She’s dead.”
Merritt didn’t gasp, but all of her major organs reacted as though she had. “Oh, I am—” She paused realizing she’d been saying “sorry” incessantly to him today. “Sincere condolences,” she managed, although the words sounded awkward to her ears. No telling how inane they must sound to him.
After several seconds he murmured, “Thanks.”
“Was there someone to fill you in on what happened and when?” She hoped that he hadn’t walked into an empty house and been forced to come to his own conclusions.
“Yeah, a cousin. It happened a year ago. Pneumonia. She wouldn’t go to the clinic, not that it would have done any good at her age.”
Merritt wasn’t one to run to a doctor herself. She could only imagine how difficult the choice would be for someone who had no reason to trust another culture’s medicine or didn’t have the funds. “What will you do now?”
“Get you to work. Have another warm meal.”
Sometimes it was a good thing to deal with only one detail at a time. She knew that from her own experience. But a million questions flooded her mind. Was there no one else to welcome him home? The cousin’s parents? Siblings? Considering the weather, did no one have room to put him up for the night?
“I’ll seat you in the same place if you like and make sure you get seconds of whatever you’d like.”
“Don’t get any ideas about turning me into your personal charity case.”
And he called her stubborn? “Believe me, I can’t afford to adopt you, and I have better things to do with my time than to beg you to accept my help so I can feel good about myself.”
“Good.”
As they rounded the curve, the lights of town came into view if not the buildings themselves. Merritt refused to speak again, having no desire to irritate what had to be a sore wound, or to be rebuked. She was curious as to where he would go after he ate—if he agreed to eat now. There was no motel in town, not even a bed-and-breakfast.
There were several cars already parked in front of the café. It would appear that a number of
