The Drifter's Gift. Lauryn Chandler

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СКАЧАТЬ pulled a dish from one of the cabinets. Brown eyes shining as he acknowledged the gibe, he tapped the center of the chipped china dessert plate. “Just put it right there.”

      They settled at the breakfast table, and Dani began to fidget, plucking at a piece of orange pulp that was stuck to the rim of her glass.

      “You know, it’s not such a bad idea when you think about it,” she said hesitantly, easing back to the topic at hand. She raised her eyes to her father’s. Behind wire-framed glasses, Gene regarded his daughter stonily, and Dani squirmed with the need to defend the decision she’d come to during the night “Pop, how many great marriages do you know of? I mean really great ones. Love affairs. Name three off the top of your head.”

      Gene popped a piece of cookie into his mouth, taking an excessively long time to chew. “Antony and Cleopatra.”

      “Live people.”

      Reaching for his coffee, he frowned.

      “See?” Dani countered. “Bet you can’t name even one.” Digging peanut butter from a groove in the pine table, she smiled sadly. “Me, either. Except for you and Mom.”

      Rubbing his nose where long ago his glasses had left a permanent indentation, Gene nodded. He spoke infrequently of his late wife, but Dani knew he thought of her often.

      “You and Mom used to laugh so much. I remember thinking you were telling her jokes.”

      Gene smiled. “Sometimes I was.” They sat quietly a moment, then he offered, “You could have that, too. You’re so pretty, honey. And smart. Maybe I never.told you that enough.”

      “Yes, you did.” Dani hated the look of uncertainty on her father’s face. “You did everything just right, Pop.”

      “Then don’t rush into anything,” he cautioned, referring to the plan she’d related to him this morning. “Marriage is hard work. Without love—”

      “I’d rather have commitment without love than love without commitment. And don’t tell me I can have both.” Already primed to utter exactly those words, Eugene’s mouth snapped shut. “I’m twenty-eight years old, and I have a child. I don’t have the time to chase rainbows. I don’t have the energy.”

      “You could still meet someone…the natural way.”

      Wincing at the clear implication that what she was about to do was highly unnatural, Dani countered, “Where am I going to meet someone in Rockview?”

      Fewer than a thousand people lived in the historic mining town, most of them married. Or incontinent “Face it, Pop, when we went eeny-meeny-miney-mo with that map, we landed in a town that makes Noah’s Ark look like a singles’ cruise.”

      “You could get out more. Take a girlfriend and drive into Boise. Maybe there’s someplace there you could go dancing.” His inflection rose with hopefulness.

      Dancing. After nine or ten hours of work every day, Dani’s feet hurt just thinking about it. “I don’t want to pick someone up at a dance. Or have them try to pick me up. I like my idea better.”

      She splayed her hands across the scarred top of the pine table. There was a business-size white envelope next to the ceramic salt shaker. Gene’s gaze followed hers, and his expression grew more troubled. With an effort, Dani steeled herself to proceed even in the face of her father’s uneasiness. Even in the face of her own.

      Inside that envelope was her chance to create a family for her son. Mentally, she reviewed the words she’d written and had read to her father early this morning.

      A home for the holidays Small family on small farm seeks man willing to make our house his home. Must love kids and hard work. Clean living, solid background with work and personal references required. Ninetyday trial period leading to legal union. Serious inquiries only.

      “I got most of my cars through the newspaper,” Gene grumbled. “Half of ’em were lemons.”

      Dani mustered a smile. “That’s why I’m insisting on a trial period. It’s like a three-month test drive.”

      Gene found little humor in the situation. He shook his head, then stood. “Well. We better get going if we’re going to make it to Lawson’s in time to see Santa.”

      The abrupt change in topic threw Dani off stride. She’d intended to talk until Pop saw things her way. But he’d always been the kind of father who let his daughter make her own mistakes. And she’d made some dillies. Praying this wasn’t going to be another of them, Dani picked up the envelope and tucked it in the pocket of her cardigan. Later, she would ask Pop to run the ad over to the Tribune office while she did the grocery shopping. That way she’d have no chance to get cold feet. The County Trib was circulated all over the state. Her ad would get a lot of play.

      “I’ll get Timmy. Thanks for coming with us, Pop. These outings with you mean the world to him.”

      Gene waved her gratitude away. “He’s my grandson, isn’t he? Better make him put on his mittens. Looks like it may snow again.”

      Dani rose. Instead of proceeding to the living room, she laid a hand on Gene’s arm. “It won’t be just anybody. If the right person doesn’t come along, then we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing. But I have to try, Dad. For Timmy.”

      Gene covered her hand with his and nodded.

      Turning, Dani called out to her son. “Grab your coat and your mittens, pup. We’re going to visit Santa!”

       Chapter Two

      In all his thirty-two years, Sam had never seen so many runny noses.

      Seated on an oversize armchair of cheap black vinyl and wood that was spray-painted gold, he gazed at the ocean of children before him and felt like he’d been sacrificed to an alien nation.

      They were lined up in an endless stream, dozens of them, not a one taller than its mother’s hip and as far as Sam could tell, each doing the same thing—wiping its nose on its sleeve and waiting to sit on his lap.

      The minute—the very instant—he saw his old friend Joe Lawson, he would tell the back-stabbing lummox exactly what he could do with this “job.” Come to Idaho, buddy…. Always a place for you at Lawson’s, pal…. Sam’s gloved hand clenched. Wiseacre, joking son of a—

      “We’re ready, Santa!” A woman dressed in a short green tunic, green tights and ankle boots gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Sam winced on her behalf. She looked like a cross between an elf and the label on a can of peas. Behind the stiff, scratchy beard the Lawson’s Superstore management had. handed him, Sam gave a brief, sorry shake of his head. He doubted he looked any more dignified than she.

      “Testing…” The woman tapped a microphone. She whispered, but her voice carried. “One, two, three, testing…” Satisfied the PA system was up and running, she motioned for quiet—got none—and proceeded.

      “Greetings, shoppers!” she boomed into the mike. “Welcome to Lawson’s Superstore’s third СКАЧАТЬ