A Randall Thanksgiving. Judy Christenberry

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СКАЧАТЬ to be for a semester, wasn’t it?”

      “Yes, until one of the greatest jewelry designers in the world looked at my work and offered me a chance to learn from him. It was an incredible offer I had to accept.”

      “Did you make those?” Tori asked, reaching out to touch the twisted gold earrings Melissa was wearing.

      “Yes. Monsieur Jalbert is letting me design some more casual jewelry, different from the expensive, heavy pieces that you’d only wear at balls or galas.”

      “Of which we have none,” Russ commented. “But I have heard of the man. My wife used to buy that kind of jewelry, before she moved to Rawhide.”

      “Did you bring any other pieces with you?” Tori asked, still staring at the earrings. “I don’t know how they’re priced, but Sarah and Jennifer might be interested in carrying them in their store.”

      Sisters Sarah and Jennifer, both married to Randall cousins, owned and operated Rawhide’s popular general store. “They’d have to work out a deal with Monsieur Jalbert,” Melissa said. “What I design is his right now.”

      “Too bad. If you got my name for the Christmas gift exchange, I sure wouldn’t mind taking a pair off your hands.” She grinned at her cousin.

      “Have we drawn names already this year?”

      Russ replied, “Yeah. Your mom drew one for you. And I can tell that all the women are going to be hoping you got their name.”

      “I might make something for a Christmas present. I am already itching to get back to work.”

      “But could you work here?” Tori asked.

      Melissa answered carefully. “I can make a few gifts. But as long as I’m under contract with Monsieur Jalbert, I can’t produce any work to sell.”

      “And when does your contract expire?” she asked.

      “January first,” Melissa confessed. “But don’t mention that to Mom or Dad. They’ll think it might mean I could stay here, but—” She cut off that thought. “We’ll renew my contract as soon as I return.”

      Tori was undaunted. She continued to probe. “Why didn’t you renew before you came home?”

      Melissa looked down at her coffee, avoiding both Russ and Tori’s gaze as she said, “There wasn’t time. I decided to come home at the last minute.”

      Before anyone could comment, they were distracted by two men yelling at each other on the other side of the café. Russ, she noticed, kept a particularly watchful eye on them. The argument got heated and the men stood up, going face-to-face. When one of them picked up a knife, Russ wasted no time. He took out his cell phone and dialed 911.

      “There’s a fight at the café,” he said into his phone. “One of the men has a knife,”

      “Surely you don’t think they’re really going to fight?” Melissa asked.

      “What, they don’t have fights in France?” Russ asked.

      Melissa didn’t respond.

      “Better safe than sorry,” he stated. Almost as he spoke, one of the men threw the first punch, and in no time they were knocking chairs over as they fought. The knife fell to the floor, but not before it drew blood from its victim.

      As the diners looked on, aghast, the café door opened to admit Harry Gowan.

      The badge on his winter coat announced that he was a member of the Sheriff’s Office. His actions left no doubt, either. He waded in and stopped the fighting, though he had to take one man to the ground to get him to halt. He called the other man by name and warned him to back off. When he had them both subdued, he called the hospital to alert them that a patient was on the way.

      Russ stood. “I’d better help out.” He crossed the room, taking a bunch of napkins to press on the wound of the combatant standing. Harry welcomed his assistance, asking him to escort the man to the hospital, just down the street, while he took the other guy, now in cuffs, to jail.

      In a couple of minutes, the normal buzz of conversation was restored, as if nothing had happened.

      “Well, that was interesting!” Melissa said in amazement.

      “Now you see why everyone in town loves Harry,” Tori said. “In the old days, the deputy might’ve drawn a gun, which would endangered everyone here. But he looks for ways to intervene without that.”

      “He’s certainly impressive, but surely sometimes he has to use a gun.”

      “Yes, I suppose, but not often. First of all, everyone knows he’s a crack shot. Mike tests his men every month. Secondly, have you seen Harry’s muscles? They’re very impressive.”

      “Actually, I have. He was doing some weight lifting when I got to the station.”

      Tori’s eyebrows rose once again. “But that was in the men’s facility, right?”

      “I didn’t go in,” Melissa hastily said. “I just peeked in to see if I could spot him. And I did. He had his shirt off while he lifted weights.”

      Her cousin smiled. “And was it worth the look?”

      “Oh, yes,” Melissa said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, the guys got so perturbed that I opened the door to a ‘men’s facility,’ as they kept calling it, that I had no choice but to close it.”

      Tori laughed out loud. “Honey, if that story makes its way to your dad, you’ll never hear the end of it!”

      “He wasn’t naked.” Instead of saying it in a defensive tone, Melissa wore a small smile, making Tori think she was imagining that very picture.

      “It’s a good thing,” she said. “But I think you’ve hit on the problem you’re having with Harry.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I think you may have embarrassed him. Harry’s a very modest person.”

      “Tori, it was just his chest. If we went swimming, I’d see that much of him. That can’t be it.”

      “Maybe it’s the way you looked at him that disturbed him.”

      “I don’t know what you mean,” Melissa said nonchalantly.

      “Did you gaze at him as if you were imagining him without the shorts?”

      “I did not!” Melissa protested. But her reddening cheeks told a different story.

      Tori broke out in laughter. “Maybe you should try for more modesty when you see him at Sunday dinner.”

      “Are you sure he’ll be there?”

      “I think so. He may even be there for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

      “Oh.” It came out more of a moan than a reply.

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