Sweet Tibby Mack. Roz Fox Denny

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СКАЧАТЬ fingers on the wood. “Donated? Do you have that in writing?”

      “Probably. Someplace. Yale was meticulous when it came to business.” There had been a letter. Tibby didn’t think it mentioned that she’d won the parcel in a golf wager. Yale loved to play. He’d taken over Tibby’s training after Joe Toliver taught her the rudiments. He bet outlandishly and rarely lost—except to her. The other golfers in town referred to her win as a fluke for Yale’s sake, but everyone knew the truth.

      Cole waited, but she didn’t elaborate or offer him her copy. “Um…Gramps filed every receipt and every scrap of paper that ever crossed his desk,” he muttered. “There’s an entire room full of five-drawer file cabinets. I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea where to begin looking. It might take me weeks to find the documentation.”

      “More like months,” Tibby said, averting her gaze. “I know. I frequently helped file his backlog.”

      “Look, the burden of proof lies with you. His lawyer sent me copies of deeds, land grants and a plot plan. There was no reference to any donation. I need that section. You’ll have to tear the building down and relocate it on your own land.”

      Tibby’s temper flared. “I don’t know who you’re selling to, but surely they won’t miss one worthless hill.” She folded her arms. “Besides, isn’t possession nine-tenths of the law?” she added flippantly.

      “Says you. And for your information, I’m not selling. I’m planning to build an eighteen-hole golf course. That worthless hill is a prime location for my clubhouse.”

      “A golf course?” Tibby blanched. “Why? Everyone plays at Bogey Wells.”

      “Are you saying you aren’t aware that the people of Yaqui Springs want their own course? I find that hard to believe when your store seems to be the headquarters for gossip.”

      So that’s why everyone was ecstatic when Cole showed up. Tibby couldn’t imagine why she’d been left out of the loop. That knowledge hurt. As possible reasons whirled through her head, she rose and watched Cole wander around the store, picking up a few food items. Bread, cheese, coffee, a selection of fruits and vegetables. Finally he threw in a six-pack of light beer.

      “Anna must have cleaned out Gramps’s cupboards when she was here,” he said stiffly. “They’re bare as old Mother Hubbard’s.”

      “Anna? Oh, your mother.” Tibby rang up items automatically. Her brain retraced what Cole had said about building a golf course. Even if he designed one, who would run it? Did that mean he intended to sell to a resort developer? Yaqui Springs would never be the same if he did.

      “Regarding that so-called letter…” Cole said as Tibby bagged his groceries. “I’m staying at the house. If you turn up something, you can drop it off there.”

      Tibby ignored that. “Talk to the people who invited you here. They know Yale contributed the land. In Brawley the post office never let any one person from here collect everyone’s mail. It placed a hardship on residents who didn’t drive. Having our own postal service was Gram’s dream. But unless she tore out the gardens or the orchard, her property wasn’t suitable. Yale’s land was the perfect solution. Why don’t you put your clubhouse someplace else?”

      “I don’t expect you to understand the layout of a golf course. I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for it. And time is money. I’d like to start excavation. If you need help tearing that shack down, I’ll be happy-to assist”

      “Shack?” Tibby leaped out of her chair. “Take my word for this, O’Donnell—touch one stick of wood in that federal building, and I’ll contact the authorities.” Tibby lowered her voice as Winnie Toliver strolled through the front door. The pert woman eyed the two who stood rigidly, glaring at one another.

      “Afternoon, Cole…Tibby,” she said, inclining her neatly cropped hair. “The Moped Mavericks rode past the cemetery today. The fresh flowers look beautiful, Tibby.”

      Tibby relaxed. “Thanks. It didn’t seem right to decorate just my grandmother’s plot. Not when she gave May baskets to everyone.”

      Cole, who’d reached the door, stopped. “I meant to ask who decorated the graves. This morning I paid my respects to Gramps. Your flowers brightened the place and made my visit easier,” he said, his voice rough with feeling.

      Tibby hitched up a shoulder. “You’re welcome,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. “He needs a headstone, O’Donnell. The kind with a built-in vase. Your mother only authorized one of those cheapie markers.”

      “Tibby.” There was a note of shock in Winnie’s tone.

      Tibby frowned at Cole. “I can’t help it. The marker is tacky. It’s not like Yale was a pauper. He deserves better.”

      Cole wrenched the door open. “Anna didn’t mention needing a stone. Actually she didn’t mention Gramps had died, either. Consider it done, Ms. Mack. The kind with the vase. Two damned vases if you’d like.”

      Winnie jumped as the door banged sharply on his dramatic exit.

      Tibby didn’t bat an eye. “Of all the arrogant, insufferable, overbearing—”

      “Why, Tibby!” Winnie’s eyes widened. “This is so unlike you.”

      Ashamed of letting her feelings show, Tibby closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “Sorry, Winnie. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

      “I do. You’ve been working too hard. You were by our house at six this morning, and I’m sure you rose earlier to cut all those flowers. You probably stayed up half the night making baskets, too.” Her face softened. “They are pretty, though. Made out of wallpaper, aren’t they?”

      Tibby nodded. “Last time I went to buy stakes for my tomatoes, one of the paint stores in Indio was selling sample books,” she said. “Wallpaper holds up better than construction paper for heavier flowers like lilac and jasmine. This year the trees are overloaded.”

      “I noticed that the desert verbena’s beginning to bloom, too. And the smoke trees are starting to leaf. The Mavericks rode south toward El Centro today. I wish you’d been with us, Tibby. I remember how you used to love finding the first burroweed blossoms.”

      “That was before Gram got so sick. I honestly don’t know how she managed the gardens, the orchard, the store, plus the housework. Especially at her age.”

      “She devoted her whole life to this community after she lost Leo. It became her obsession after your parents were killed. But, Tibby, you’re too young to bury yourself in work. You haven’t lived yet.”

      “This is certainly the day for everyone to lecture me. First Henrietta, then Mabel and now you. Have I turned into such a terrible grouch?”

      “No, sweet Tibby. But all work and no play makes for a dull life.” Winnie left, giving Tibby no chance to respond.

      Tibby wondered if Winnie had dropped by just to scold her. Was she working too hard? No. And right now she had better things to do than speculate. This week she was scheduled to print the newsletter. In addition to that, she had to find where Grandmother Mack had put Yale’s letter. Frankly, Tibby would’ve liked nothing better than to shove that document in Cole O’Donnell’s face, along with СКАЧАТЬ