seemed that it was again up to Lucy to try to raise everyone’s spirits. “Did you all get through to your families to let them know you’re safe?” she asked the table at large.
She was answered with a silent round of nods.
Okay, new tactic. She smiled at Tyler. “How old are you, Tyler? I would guess around seven.”
“I’ll be eight in February,” he replied.
A complete sentence. She was making progress. “So you’re in second grade?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m in kindergarten,” Tricia supplied, not to be left out.
“Are you? Do you like it?” Lucy asked encouragingly.
Tricia nodded. “My teacher’s nice. I like music time best.”
“Where do you live?” Lucy looked at Joan this time, hoping to draw her into the conversation.
“We’re from Mayflower,” Joan murmured. “That’s north of Little Rock…”
“I know where Mayflower is,” Lucy said with a smile. “I live in Conway, practically next door to you.”
“Mother and I have a little place outside of Jacksonville,” Pop supplied, patting his wife’s hand. “We’ve lived there more than forty years.”
Lucy wondered about the wisdom of a man in his mid-eighties making a three-hour drive in an old pickup truck, especially in weather that had promised to be cold and rainy at best. What was his family thinking to let him make that trip?
Because that was really none of her business, Lucy spoke to Bobby Ray. “Do you live in Little Rock or was that a business stop?”
“I live there. I was hoping to make it home this evening. But my boss just told me on the phone that the weather guys are saying it could be day after tomorrow before the roads are passable.”
“Day after tomorrow?” Tyler’s eyes widened in alarm. “But that’s Christmas! We can’t stay here until Christmas!”
“What about Santa Claus?” Tricia looked at her mother in dismay. “We told him we would be at Grandma’s house. He’s s’posed to come tomorrow.”
Lucy noted that Banner’s face was showing new signs of strain in the form of deep lines around his stern mouth. Not only had his home been invaded by a group of strangers, but those strangers were all making it quite clear that they would rather be somewhere else. She couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him.
“Don’t worry about Santa Claus,” Joan told her children. “Even if he can’t come see you tomorrow night, he’ll make a special trip as soon as we’ve settled somewhere.”
The children still looked crestfallen, and Lucy couldn’t blame them. Now the general mood around the table was depressed again.
“Banner, this soup is delicious,” she said, determinedly cheerful. “You’re an excellent cook.”
“Thanks.”
“Mother’s a wonderful cook,” Pop said, trying to help Lucy with the conversation. “Barbecued chicken, pork chops, spare ribs. And her pies—best coconut cream pie in the whole world. Her chocolate pie’s good, too.”
“Don’t cook as much as I used to,” Miss Annie murmured, glancing at her gnarled hands. “I still like to cook fresh vegetables in the summertime, though.”
“We used to grow all our own vegetables,” Pop added. “Had a big ol’ garden back behind the house. Can’t do it much anymore, now that the arthritis has gotten so bad. Still put some tomato plants in every spring, though.”
Miss Annie gave him a sweet smile. “Pop loves his fresh sliced tomatoes.”
Lucy watched the exchange between the couple with a wistful envy. Sixty-two years of marriage, she thought. Children, grandchildren, companionship and memories.
She wanted that for herself. As her twenty-eighth birthday approached, she found herself thinking about it more and more. She was perfectly capable of supporting herself and taking care of herself, but she wanted the fairy tale. The husband and children who loved her and who she could adore in return. The happily-ever-after. The sixty-second wedding anniversary.
The only thing holding her back was the fact that she was having a great deal of difficulty finding anyone she actually wanted to marry.
“Does anyone want more soup?” Banner asked gruffly, drawing her attention back to him.
Gosh, he was gorgeous, she thought, sighing a little as she admired the way the overhead light gleamed in his thick, dark hair. But good looks alone weren’t enough to put a guy on her prospect list, as she knew from several disastrous dates with very attractive—and completely unsuitable—men.
No one wanted more soup.
“Let me clean the kitchen,” Joan offered shyly, glancing at Banner and then quickly away. “You’ve been so generous to all of us. I’d like to help out.”
“I’ll help,” Lucy offered.
“Let me help you back to the living room, Miss Annie,” Bobby Ray said, pushing away from the table.
“Actually, I think I’d like to lie down for a few minutes,” Miss Annie replied, her smile weary. “Would that be all right with you, Mr. Banner?”
“Just call me Banner, ma’am.” Lucy noted that he spoke to the old woman with a respectful warmth that was notably missing in his brief dealings with his other guests. “You’re welcome to use my room for as long as you’re here. There are plenty of other places where I can sleep.”
Miss Annie beamed at him. “Thank you. You’re a very kind young man.”
Lucy was fascinated to see the faintest touch of red appear briefly on Banner’s tanned cheeks. Were compliments that rare for him?
Tricia was growing tired, too, and stressed by the changes in her routines and holiday plans. She began to whine, and when her brother taunted her about it, a squabble began.
Lucy watched as deep lines appeared around Banner’s mouth again. Apparently, he hadn’t spent much time around children—and judging by his expression, he would have been content to leave it that way.
“Why don’t you take care of the children,” Lucy suggested to Joan. “They’re tired and unsettled. I’ll clean up in here.”
The harried mother sighed and nodded. “I suppose that would be best.”
“There’s a TV in the living room,” Banner said. “I have satellite. Maybe you can find something to entertain the kids.”
Nodding again, Joan ushered her children out of the room, leaving Lucy alone with Banner.
“I can take care of this,” Lucy assured Banner when he reached for a dirty bowl.
“I’d
