The Bridal Quest. Jennifer Mikels
Annie went on, “I go to school. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Hooper. Next year I get Mrs. Bowcott. I had chicken pox, a mild case, the nurse told my daddy. But I had funny spots all over.”
“Polka dots,” Casey said and giggled again.
Jessica smiled along with them. They looked so much alike. Though Casey was a blonde and Annie had brown hair with blond streaks, they had similar heart-shaped faces, pouty mouths, pert noses and large blue eyes.
“Our mommy is in heaven,” Annie announced.
Looking solemn, Casey nodded her head.
Jessica studied them both for a long moment, saw no painful grief in their eyes, but was at a loss about what to say. Their daddy unknowingly saved her.
With his approach, Casey jumped from the chair and rushed to him. “Is Mrs. Mulvane sick?” she asked while he lifted her up.
Annie offered her opinion. “Daddy, Mrs. Mulvane looked bad.”
Casey nodded. “Real bad.”
In a reassuring gesture, he ran a large hand over Annie’s head. “The doctors will take good care of her.” His eyes shifted from her to Jessica. “Thanks for helping.”
“You’re welcome.” Assuming they’d have plenty of questions for him, she scooted out of the booth so he could slide in. “I’m glad I could help.” On that note, she hurried away. Being with his children was one thing, spending any time with him undoubtedly would prove as nerve-wracking as before. She returned to the cook’s counter, expecting Herb’s censure for sitting so long with them, but he said nothing.
“What you did was nice,” Cory whispered when standing beside her and waiting for orders. “In a small town, people help each other without being asked. You aren’t as much of a newcomer now.”
Jessica warmed. Though she doubted that even her new status would help her keep her job, she learned she’d scored a few points with Herb.
And with two little girls. Before they left, they raced to her with thank-yous that had her smiling most of the afternoon.
A reality check hit at three o’clock. Ready to leave, she stood in the employee break room, thinking about where she could go for the night. She didn’t even have a car to sleep in.
She counted her tips and closed her eyes. Her net worth was twenty-one dollars and thirty-five cents. So now what? Before leaving the motel this morning, she’d paid for last night’s room with most of her cash. She had no other resources since her bank account was frozen. She’d have to sleep under the stars until she got her paycheck at the end of the week—if she lasted that long.
“You did a good thing with Sam’s girls today,” a voice said behind her.
She slanted a look over her shoulder at Herb and responded with a smile, truly pleased by his words.
“Want to work extra hours?”
Jessica had learned that the dinner shift belonged to the most experienced waitresses and meant the best tips. He was obviously in a bind or he wouldn’t have asked her to stay. Grateful for a chance to earn more money, maybe enough to pay for a motel room tonight, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”
“Okay.” That was all he said before leaving her.
A moment later, Cory peeked in. “Chloe didn’t show,” she said about another waitress. “If you have any questions about the dinner menu, ask me.”
By six-thirty the diner was full with dinner customers. So far she’d kept pace with her orders. Well, almost. Herb picked up two customers. Cory, who was working overtime to make extra money for her wedding, took another one. Pleased with how well she’d been doing might have been part of her downfall, Jessica later decided.
Standing in the aisle, she lowered a plate in front of a balding man in a suit. She heard movement behind her and assumed the customer in the next booth was leaving. “Here you are, ma’am,” she said to the balding man’s companion.
Behind her, a male voice bellowed to someone at the door. “Hey, Marv.” At the same moment that Jessica’s hand moved down, the man rushed by.
Everything that followed seemed to happen in slow motion. When he hit her elbow, her arm jerked forward. She watched the plate of spaghetti flip out of her hand. The noodles flew from it, plopped onto the table and slid onto the woman’s lap.
Jessica moaned.
The woman squeaked.
Unaware, the man who’d bumped her elbow merrily went out the door with his friend Marv.
Feet away, Herb was scowling. Jessica expected his words seconds later. “I’m sorry, I can’t afford to keep you,” he said, sounding as if he meant that. “But you’re a walking disaster. Do you know who’s wearing our marinara sauce?”
Jessica shook her head.
“The mayor’s wife,” Herb told her, and turned away, shaking his head.
Jessica grimaced and headed for the break room to get her suitcase. She saw no point in trying to persuade him to let her stay.
With plates to deliver lining her arm, Cory stepped into her path. “Hon, I’ll call you later.”
Another problem, Jessica mused. If Cory called the motel, she’d learn she wasn’t there anymore. She faced Cory with a brave face, not wanting her to know how devastated she was. “No. I might change motels.” Quickly she made a promise. “But I’ll keep in touch.”
“Okay, but don’t worry,” she said, closing inches so their shoulders touched. “There are plenty of jobs around town.”
Jessica drummed up a smile. She was no more qualified for any other job than she’d been for this one. “Yes, I’m sure there are.”
She hadn’t thought the situation could get worse. She’d been wrong. She had no job now, and no place to stay.
Stepping out the back door, she stopped at the wood bench outside Lloyd’s Barbershop, the store to the right of the diner. She yanked the clip out of her hair. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t squelch the tears. Her throat tightened and her eyes smarted. She’d been so sure she could stand on her own, so sure that once she’d taken this stance against marriage to Ryan Noble that her family would acquiesce. But nothing was going as she planned. Nothing.
Cooking a meal was the last thing on Sam’s mind tonight. He didn’t mind cooking, but he hated thinking about what to cook night after night. More often than not, he gave in to his daughters’ pleas for their favorite food, pizza, so he figured a hamburger at Herb’s ranked a close second to a home-cooked meal.
The afternoon had proved long and tense. Not wanting Arlene to be alone, he’d left the girls at the office in the trustworthy hands of Trudy, his assistant and dispatcher, and his girls’ great-aunt, then he’d gone to the hospital. While there, he’d contacted Arlene’s son in Reno, and a daughter who lived in Fallon, and told them the doctor was keeping their mother in the hospital for observation. He offered reassurances that she was doing fine.
He wasn’t.
Sheriff Sam Dawson no longer had a nanny for his daughters. Weary from the events of the day, he wished for a simple answer to his problem, for a way to manage until he found someone to stay with the girls.
A dull headache promised to strengthen if he didn’t pop in a few painkillers soon. While he drove with the girls toward the diner for dinner, they’d grown quiet again. He didn’t think they were fretting. Earlier, when he’d returned to the office, he’d been met by gloomy faces and their concern for Arlene. Sam had quieted their distress, and worked hard to stir their smiles while they’d settled in the vehicle and fastened seat belts.
Now Annie seemed engrossed in a new book, and Casey was humming to her stuffed dog.
They