The Family Man. Melinda Curtis
at the defeated little dog in her lap. “We’ll have the cashier call animal control or whoever takes abandoned animals around here. They’ll clean him up and find him a home.”
“No! It’s an orphan. Like us.” Hannah’s face crumpled as she began to cry.
And that’s how Thea found herself driving into Silver Bend with no place to go, a car full of her possessions, two abandoned girls and a clean, small white terrier with brown spots.
“STOP! STOP!” Hannah cried as they drove through town. “If Uncle Logan’s not at home, he’s at the Painted Pony.”
The little dog in her lap perked his ears. He was cute, once they’d washed him, and seemed to have the sweetest disposition, which made Thea wonder why anyone would have treated him so horribly.
Thea parked in the lot next to the Painted Pony restaurant. A life-size plastic painted horse waited for them on the wooden porch. But Hannah didn’t head to the front door. The little girl ran around to the back, dragging the terrier behind her with the braided leash Thea had made with scraps of material. The little dog kept his nose to the ground and frequently lifted his leg to try to mark his territory before being yanked farther along by Hannah.
“Hannah, where are you going?” Thea asked, hefting her straw purse onto her shoulder.
“Rufus has a dog run in the back,” Tess explained.
Thea tore her gaze away from Hannah, who was disappearing through a back gate, to look at Tess. “You know who runs this place?”
“Heidi’s grandma.” Tess leaned back against the dusty car and crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her chin.
“Who’s Heidi?”
“A friend from school. When we lived here.” She shrugged.
“And she’s got a dog?”
“Yeah.”
Hannah returned, panting for breath. “Hurry, let’s see if they’re inside.”
“No one’s here, Han. None of their cars are here,” Tess said, and followed her sister.
“Whose cars?” Suddenly, Thea wondered if the twins had put something over on her. They seemed to be speaking in code. What were they talking about?
“The Hot Shots,” Hannah said over her shoulder, as if that explained everything.
“The hot who?”
Tess shot Thea a scornful look. “Hot Shots. They eat at the Painted Pony before they leave and when they get back.” Noting Thea’s blank stare, she added, “Uncle Logan is a Hot Shot. He fights forest fires.”
“Hurry.” Hannah jogged ahead in an ungainly way that Thea found endearing.
“So someone inside should know where your uncle is?”
“Yeah.” Tess’s steps slowed.
Thea didn’t understand why Tess didn’t seem happy at the thought that they were close to finding her uncle.
As soon as Thea stepped inside the Painted Pony, she felt oddly at ease. Most of the place was taken up with black-and-white linoleum tiles, faded Formica tables and booths with worn green bench seats. There was a sturdy-looking bar, a jukebox on the far wall near a pool table and a small, scuffed dance floor.
Even the elderly woman with short gray hair, a weathered face and kind eyes who was hugging Hannah seemed graciously welcoming. Tess hesitated when the woman called her over, but finally submitted and received her embrace with much the same suffering expression as she did when Thea hugged her.
“I’m Mary Socrath. I own the Pony.” The woman extended her hand as she came toward Thea, her expression curious. “We haven’t seen these two angels in quite some time.”
Before Thea could shake her hand, Hannah asked in her soft, polite voice, “Where’s Uncle Logan?”
“I thought I saw you two dart in,” observed a tall, slender woman coming in the door behind Thea with a gait as stilted as a pigeon’s.
“Birdie, come in and meet…” Mary looked expectantly at Thea.
“Thea. Have you seen—”
“Where’s Uncle Logan?” Hannah interrupted Thea.
Ignoring both Thea and Hannah, the thin woman stepped closer. “What brings you to Silver Bend, Thea?”
“Introduce yourself, Birdie,” Mary gently chastised, then did it for her. “Birdie runs the general store across the street.”
Thea’s head started to ache. Two days ago finding Logan McCall had seemed like the logical thing to do. And now?
“Thea’s our nanny. We’re looking for Uncle Logan.” Hannah’s voice trembled.
“Oh, not Wes’s wife, eh?” An old man pushed his way past Birdie, flashing Thea a grin beneath his bulbous nose. He extended a plump, gnarled hand. “Smiley Peterson, town barber.”
After shaking his hand, Thea retreated to Hannah and draped her arm protectively across her shoulders, wishing everyone would just slow down. With a huffing noise, Tess slumped into an empty booth, perhaps realizing that the townspeople seemed more interested in Thea than in helping them find Logan.
“We’re looking for Logan McCall,” Thea clarified, trying to hold on to her resolve to remain strong for the girls when she only wanted to sink into the booth next to Tess and cry. “He still lives in town, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he does.” Birdie smiled, and Thea thought they were getting somewhere until she added, “Are you here long, dear?”
“I want my uncle Logan,” Hannah wailed, unable to contain herself any longer.
Everyone in the room seemed to freeze. The third-degree questioning blissfully stopped. Thea led Hannah to the booth Tess had claimed and had her sit down. Hannah cried hysterically, testing Thea’s resolve to hold herself together.
“Please, give her a little room,” Thea pleaded, pressing a napkin into Hannah’s hand. The locals’ onslaught, combined with Hannah’s tears, put Thea off balance.
“I’ll get her something to drink,” Mary said.
“You aren’t saving these chocolate-chip cookies for anyone, are you, Mary?” Birdie asked, even as she plucked several cookies from under a covered dish.
Smiley patted Hannah on the top of her head. “The boys are up in Sun Valley fighting a fire. Heard on the radio that it jumped out of bounds, but that the Hot Shots contained it.”
Hannah blew her nose, then accepted a cookie. Tess pushed the cookie Birdie offered to the middle of the table, where Thea was sure it would remain untouched.
“When is he coming home?” Thea prodded.
“I’d say another day or so,” Birdie chirped.
“Oh, my.” Thea felt her heart sink to the tips of her toes. Another day or so. That could be a week. A week!
“You can probably get a room over at the motel,” Smiley suggested.
No. They couldn’t. Thea didn’t have to take out her wallet to know they couldn’t spend one more night in a hotel. One night had been enough to drain her funds significantly.
“Dad’s gone and we don’t have any money,” Tess announced, causing Thea’s cheeks to heat with embarrassment and another ripple of activity among Mary, Birdie and Smiley.
“I’ll make lunch for everyone,” Mary offered before disappearing.
“Where’s that father of yours?” Birdie’s expression hardened with disapproval.
“Ought to be shot, that man,” Smiley grumbled.
Later,