Her Small-Town Hero. Arlene James

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      “He should have been here already,” Holt groused.

      Cara opened her mouth to say that she was sure Ryan would be along soon, but just then, through the plate glass window, Cara spotted a now familiar late-model domestic sedan slow and turn off the highway into the lot. “There he is.”

      Holt spun to the window, bringing his hands to his waist. “It’s about time.” Striding to the end of the counter, he called through the open apartment door, “Granddad! He’s here!”

      “Comin’!” Hap called back, muttering, “Hold your horses. Always chomping at the bit.”

      Cara ducked her head, biting back a grin. Hap Jefford had quickly endeared himself to her and her son. Witty, caring and cheerful, he seemed genuinely fond of Ace and had even taken over much of the laundry chores once he decided that Cara had “got the hang of things,” as he’d put it. If not for Holt coming around to glower at her, she thought she’d be fairly content. She’d tried to be nice to Holt, but that only made him more dour.

      “Now, listen,” Holt lectured, splaying a hand against the countertop.

      “Isssssn!” Ace mimicked, leaning forward to smack his hand onto the lower counter.

      Holt looked at him, one corner of his mouth kicking up. He glanced at Cara, sobered and cleared his throat, drawing back his hand. “Just let Ryan handle things. If anyone comes in, he’ll take care of them. You’re still observing for now.”

      “Hap’s already explained,” she began, only to have him cut her off.

      “If you need anything, you have our numbers.” He made a face. “Well, mine, anyway. Granddad never carries his phone with him.”

      “Why should I?” Hap asked, limping through the apartment door. “I never go anywhere on my own.”

      “On your own what?” Ryan asked, stepping inside the lobby.

      “On my own by myself,” Hap said. “How you doing, Ryan?”

      “Excellent, as usual.”

      Holt rounded on his brother. “You took your time getting here.”

      Ryan paused in the act of shrugging off his corduroy coat and glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s ten minutes till six. What’s the rush?”

      “Oh, don’t mind him,” Hap counseled, limping over to ruffle Ace’s hair. “He’s got a burr in his bonnet. I say, a burr in his bonnet.” Ace giggled and fell back against Cara’s chest. She smiled up at Hap, who patted her shoulder affectionately. “There’s pizzas in the freezer, and if you eat them I won’t be tempted.”

      “Done,” Ryan proclaimed, rubbing his hands together.

      “Can we go?” Holt demanded. “I’m hungry.”

      “When was the last time you weren’t hungry?” Hap asked, limping around the counter.

      “I’m usually pretty good when I get up from the table,” Holt grumbled as the two of them left the building through the front door.

      Ryan shook his head. “That’s our Holt, two hollow legs.”

      “Not to mention a hollow head,” Cara muttered.

      Ryan burst out laughing. “I’m beginning to wonder if that’s not his problem, though I’ve never thought so before.” He stood staring as if that ought to make some special sense to her, then he clapped his hands together. “I’m thinking we should dress up those pizzas. What have you got in the pantry?”

      “Pineapple?” she suggested hopefully.

      “Pineapple?” he parroted. “They eat pineapple on their pizza up in Oregon? Sounds like a California thing. You ever get down to California?”

      Cara just smiled, but inwardly she cringed. When would she learn to watch her mouth? The jangle of the telephone saved her from any more uncomfortable questions and the lies she’d rather not have to tell in answer. Ryan reached across the counter and picked up the receiver.

      “Heavenly Arms Motel.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Charlotte! How you doing, sugar? How’s Ty and the Aldriches?”

      Cara rolled the desk chair back, giving brother and sister as much privacy as possible. She tried not to listen, even considered slipping out of the room, but Ryan stood there, leaning on the counter and looking right at her as if she were as much a part of the conversation as he and his sister. He smiled and chatted, enjoying himself.

      Finally he said, “I love you, too, sugar. We all miss you like crazy, especially Holt, I think. Y’all coming for the big game, then? Excellent. Looking forward to it. My best to Ty.”

      He hung up, beaming. “Get this,” he said. “My brother-in-law usually attends the Super Bowl live. This year, he’s passing it up and bringing Charlotte home to watch the game on TV with the family.” He shook his head. “Now that’s true love.”

      “You really care for her, don’t you?” she said to Ryan.

      He chuckled and spread his hands. “Of course. She’s my baby sister. I’m told you have a brother, and I’m sure he loves you, too. That’s just how it is.”

      Like Ryan, she had once thought that Eddie must naturally care for her, but all she had ever been to him was a conduit to the Elmont money.

      “You and your brother and sister seem to have a special bond.”

      “Yeah.” Ryan nodded, smiling to himself. “I guess, after our parents died, we sort of banded together, you know?”

      She wasn’t sure she did, really. Cara and her brother had, for all intents and purposes, raised themselves. Usually Eddie had gone his way and she had quietly gone hers. They’d had little in common, except for Addison, who’d been buddies with Eddie in high school.

      Something Ryan had said suddenly struck her. “Did you say parents, as in plural? I was only told about your father’s death.”

      Ryan passed a hand over his eyes and rubbed his cheekbone. Leaning both forearms on the counter, he drew a little closer and related the tale. “Yeah, Dad’s death was a big shocker. You probably heard that he fell?” At her nod, Ryan went on softly. “Well, when our mother found out, she committed suicide.”

      Cara caught her breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Thinking of the moment she’d received news of Addison’s death, she recalled the shock and the numbness, the uncertainty and the very great sadness. Part of that sadness, though, had been because she’d known she wouldn’t really miss him, only the idea of raising their son together. “Your mother must have loved your father very much,” she mused absently.

      Ryan drew back at that. “I guess she did,” he said, “but it marked Charlotte.” He shrugged, adding, “Holt and I were already out of the house, young men. Charlotte was just thirteen and still at home, and she’s never understood why Mom didn’t think of her before she swallowed those pills.”

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