Randall Honor. Judy Christenberry

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Randall Honor - Judy  Christenberry

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there wouldn’t be any more emergencies of the magnitude of today’s crash for a while.

      He placed the key in the lock and swung open the door. The interior was lit with the soft light of a lamp, inviting and warm. He smiled in pleasure. Then he remembered he didn’t have a lamp like that.

      Frowning, he reached for the light switch near the door. The kitchen was to his right, behind a wall, but there was a dining area after the kitchen. He discovered a table and chairs he didn’t own.

      Had he accidentally come into the wrong apartment? He looked around nervously. If he had, whoever lived here would think he was a burglar. He backed up until he was outside his door. Nope, there was the other door on the left.

      What was going on?

      He entered his apartment again. This time he made it to the living area. The ugly sofa he’d inherited from another med student had been replaced with a royal blue sofa, the same shape, but with colorful pillows on it. It almost looked fashionable. And there was a stuffed chair and ottoman that he didn’t own. A floor lamp with a built-in round glass table cast a soft glow about the room.

      He went to the biggest bedroom. This would tell the tale. If the bedroom suite that his father had given him as a graduation present was there, he was in the right place.

      He let out a deep breath. It was there. But the bed was made, looking so inviting he had to fight himself to keep from falling into it. He went back to the kitchen. Figuring he could use his hands as a way to get a drink of water from the sink faucet. He at least needed that before he went to sleep.

      Much to his surprise, he discovered his dishes, the few he had, all nicely stored in cabinets that had a shelf lining in place. There hadn’t been any shelf lining there yesterday.

      There was a note on the cabinet.

      “There’s lasagna in the fridge. Put what you want to eat on a paper plate and microwave it for two minutes. There’s a pitcher of lemonade, too. And Red made you a chocolate cake to welcome you to Rawhide.”

      His mouth watered when he caught sight of the cake. And lasagna? He opened the fridge and saw the square dish. He whirled around, ready to heat some up at once. Where were the paper plates?

      He opened the pantry door and discovered fresh bread, many cans of food, coffee in a can to be perked and instant coffee in a jar that was caffeine free. And paper plates.

      Who had performed this miracle? There was a tea-kettle on the back of the stove for heating water. He filled it at once and turned on the burner. Even though it was June, a good cup of coffee would hit the spot.

      He heard the faint sound of a television next door. He went outside and knocked on his neighbor’s door. If the guy had helped, or seen who had done this, he’d like to thank them.

      He heard hesitant steps come to the door. He was all ready to ask his questions when the door opened. Until he found himself facing Victoria in a long nightgown topped by a matching robe.

      “Victoria! What are you doing here?”

      “I live here. I’m your neighbor, Dr. Wilson.” She didn’t appear to be surprised.

      “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “It’s none of your business where I live.” She started to close her door.

      “Wait! I want to ask you—” He stopped as he heard the kettle whistling. “I’m heating water. Can you come with me?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. But he was remembering several remarks by both Anna and Doc. In particular, Doc. Talking about what a cute couple he and Victoria made.

      Once he was back in his kitchen, he got down a second cup and put instant coffee in both of them and added the hot water. He took both cups to the new table and put them down. His neighbor was just coming into his apartment. “I’m going to warm up some lasagna. Do you want some?”

      “No, thank you. I’m about ready to go to bed.”

      “There’s also chocolate cake. I don’t know how good it is, but it looks delicious.”

      She hesitated, then said, “Thanks. I’ll have a piece of cake. And it is delicious. Red made it.”

      Tori moved into the kitchen, noticing for the first time the weariness on the man’s face. She’d talked to her mother and heard about the difficult day. She’d also listened to a lot of praise for the doctor’s medical skills and also his concern for his patients.

      “Here, I’ll heat up the lasagna and cut the cake. You go sit down and drink your coffee,” Tori said.

      “Thanks.”

      She put some lasagna in the microwave and cut two pieces of cake. By that time, the lasagna was done. Taking it to the table, she slid it in front of the doctor, along with a fork. Then she went back for the two pieces of cake.

      For several minutes, the doctor ate the lasagna. Then he looked up. “I have some questions for you.”

      “What?” Tori answered calmly.

      “Who is Red?”

      “Red’s kind of our grandfather and Mildred’s his wife, sort of our grandmother.”

      “Why do you say it like that? Are they or aren’t they?”

      “Red is a cowboy who raised my dad and his brothers after the youngest of them was born, after their mother’s death. So he’s family even if he’s not really a Randall.”

      “And they brought this food over?”

      “Yes, to welcome you to Rawhide.”

      “And the food in the pantry? The new furniture?”

      “The chair and ottoman is from Aunt Megan and Uncle Chad.”

      “Randalls?”

      She nodded. “The table and chairs are from Russ and Abby. The food in the pantry and the coffeepot are from Toby and Elizabeth.”

      “Randalls?”

      She nodded.

      “The sofa?”

      “That’s your sofa,” she began, but he interrupted.

      “That’s not my sofa. My sofa is an ugly print that a dump wouldn’t even want.”

      She put down her fork and walked over to the sofa. She slipped the sofa cover up so he could see underneath. “This is a sofa cover I had left over from college.”

      “I see.”

      “There’s a homemade quilt on your bed, too. It’s a gift from Rich and Samantha, his wife. She made it last winter, taking lessons from his grandmother.”

      “And she made up the bed?”

      Tori felt her cheeks flush. “No, I washed the sheets and made the bed. We all figured you’d be too tired when you got in tonight.”

      “You

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