Special Delivery. Judi Lynn

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СКАЧАТЬ at their places most of the time. He wasn’t home any more than he had to be.”

      The word “sweetheart” made her think of Keagan. “Your neighborly mailman’s sure a decent guy. Do you remember him?”

      “Never met him. I went to school with his mom, though, a wonderful woman. She’d smile at me whenever we passed in the halls.”

      Karli shook her head. “That’s as good as it got for you?”

      “We wore clothes about twenty years out of date, hardly ever left the farm, and everyone cringed when they saw our dad. My older brother, Kurt, and two of my sisters had Dad’s temperament but worse. Kids avoided us.”

      Karli’s heart hurt for her mom. “I’m sorry.”

      “Hey, it made me a stronger person, but don’t let Dad bully you. He won’t make anything easy about making arrangements for him.”

      “I’ll manage. I don’t have to take his crap, and he knows it.”

      There was another sigh on her mom’s end of the phone. “Thanks for doing this, Karli. He won’t appreciate it, but I do.”

      “I’m used to uncooperative patients.” She didn’t have to live with them, though. “Let me take care of this, and I’ll see you before you expect it.”

      “If you need help, call me,” her mom said. “I can drive to Mill Pond in half a day. We’ll miss you in Indy.”

      “Miss you, too. ‘Night, Mom.”

      With that, she turned off the bedside light and nuzzled into her pillow. She was tired. There was nothing to do but clean a room for herself at Grandpa’s house tomorrow and get things settled as fast as she could. She’d wake up early and get a fast start. And since she was stuck here for a while, she might as well look around the town. It seemed as if Mill Pond had a lot to offer.

      Chapter 3

      Keagan drove to his parents’ farm early in the morning. Heavy frost covered the fields, and fog swirled in the low spots on the way. It was only a twenty-minute drive from the two-story that he rented in town with his roommate, Brad, and he knew every inch of the way. He’d been looking for property to buy for a while now, but farms were too big and ranch houses in town with tiny yards were too small. He’d better find something soon, though, because his landlord was getting the itch to convert the rental into a bed-and-breakfast. He’d make more money, for sure.

      No lights were on in either house—the old homestead or the ranch his sister and her husband lived in. The fields were all harvested. Hopefully, his dad and brother-in-law were sleeping in this morning. Keagan cut his headlights so they wouldn’t shine in the windows and drove to the far shed where his studio was. He could only spend an hour here before he had to leave for work at the post office, but he’d hand-painted eight dinner plates last night. The paint would be dry by now, setting off the pattern he’d embossed in them, and he wanted to glaze them today. The woman who’d ordered them at Art’s Grocery had chosen the fall leaf pattern with hues of rust, red, and gold, and she wanted to collect them this coming weekend when she made a return trip to Mill Pond.

      When he walked into his studio, the smell of wet clay greeted him. The heavy blocks were sealed in thick bags, but somehow, the odor always permeated the room, and he loved it. He glanced at his pottery wheels and long, drying counters. The teapot in the shape of a cat sat ready to be painted in the corner. The customer wanted the teapot to look like a tuxedo cat—black with a white chin, nose, and paws—just like the picture she’d given him. He’d paint that after supper tonight.

      He pulled on a work apron and got busy, finishing ten minutes before he had to leave for work. His cell phone rang and he glanced at his mom’s number.

      “Hey, K, when you stop to deliver mail for us today, come up to the house and I’ll give you a casserole to drop off at Axel’s place.”

      He grinned. This happened more often than he’d expected. People knew his route. If their houses came before a friend’s, they’d often give him something to drop off on his route, besides their mail. Not technically allowed, but this was Mill Pond. Rules could bend here.

      He closed up his workshop and started toward town, slowing by the house to give a quick honk, and his mom blinked the front porch light in a good morning signal. He could picture her, standing at the front window in her flowered terrycloth robe with the sash pulled tight around her slim waist and her chin-length hair slightly mussed—a smart, pretty woman. She worked as a paralegal for the town’s main lawyer, but she must have taken today off.

      When he got to the post office, Pete glanced up and grunted. “Heavy load today. More catalogues and ads than usual. That time of year, getting ready for the holidays.”

      If Keagan wanted to finish his route before supper, he’d better get a move on. It was after eleven when he pulled up to his parents’ porch. He handed his mom their mail, and she handed him a cardboard box with a foil-covered, disposable pan inside it. He sniffed, and his mouth watered. “Tamale pie?”

      She smiled and reached for a plastic container. “I made one for us, too, so you could have some.”

      “Thanks. You’re the best.” His mom was a wonderful cook. He knew his way around a kitchen, but cooking for one person wasn’t that exciting, so he kept it simple. “Have a great day, Mom.”

      “You, too.” She turned to go back inside and he heard his sister’s voice, and then he remembered. Mom and Marcia were canning vegetable soup together today, using up the last of whatever vegetables they’d picked from their gardens. It was an annual event before they tidied up their gardens for next spring. This year, good weather had hung on longer than usual, so they were just getting around to it.

      He followed his route up and down country roads until he came to Axel’s house close to noon. Karli’s Dodge Charger was pulled in the driveway, close to the front door. The car’s trunk was open, and she was bending over to pull a box of cleaning supplies out of it.

      Great ass. He shook his head, surprised at himself, but the woman was easy on the eyes. Don’t go there, he warned himself. She was the type of woman who’d cause him grief. Think with the right head this time. Three more bags of groceries poked out of the trunk.

      Keagan hopped out of his truck and went to help her carry things into the kitchen. If he kept her at a distance, they could be friends. Anything more, and he’d regret it.

      “Thanks.” She put the eggs and meat in the refrigerator, along with the milk. “I thought I’d stop in town and buy a few things before I came.”

      “Good idea, there’s not much in the cupboards. My mom sent a casserole for you. I’ll go get it.”

      She had most of the groceries put away when he came back—a bag of potatoes, a few cans of vegetables, and a can of coffee. She lifted the foil off the pan the minute he set it down. “This smells wonderful. What is it?”

      “Tamale casserole. The bottom’s a mix of ground chuck, onions, diced tomatoes, and black beans. The crust’s a corn muffin mix.”

      “I want some. How about you?” She tore the plastic off a stack of paper plates she’d bought. “I don’t trust any of the old man’s dishes until I wash them.”

      He wouldn’t either. “I СКАЧАТЬ