A Texas Christmas Reunion. Carol ArensЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Chapter Three

      Juliette fashioned the ribbons of her bonnet into a tidy bow under her chin while she watched out the front window for Rose McAllister.

      The babies were fed. Her father-in-law napped near the stove in the kitchen. Given that it was two in the afternoon and a quiet time for the restaurant, seventeen-year-old Rose should have no trouble tending things while Juliette went out to take care of business matters.

      For the first time, she didn’t need to fret over the money she paid young Rose. In fact, with Christmas coming, she would give the girl extra. Rose, who was raising her younger sister, needed additional funds as much as Juliette did—or had until she found a hatbox with her name on it.

      While she watched the boardwalk, her attention wandered to the hotel on the other side of the street, seeing it not as it was, but as she envisioned it.

      Sometime during the wee hours of the night Juliette had made her decision. It was hard to know the moment it happened. At some point in her mind the hotel went from being the run-down eyesore she saw from her restaurant window to being hers.

      Suddenly there was a coat of fresh paint to brighten its appearance. The front porch had half a dozen rocking chairs for her guests to sit in and window boxes full of blooming flowers for them to smell. Blamed if one of her guests would ever suffer a fleabite once she was in charge of things.

      She was in the middle of a quick prayer that Elvira Pugley really did intend to sell when she spotted Rose hurrying along the walk, her ten-year-old sister in tow.

      The door opened with a rush of frigid air. With the clouds building as quickly as they were, it couldn’t be long before snow began to fall.

      “I’m sorry to be late, Juliette.” Rose yanked off her coat and then her sister’s and hung them on the coatrack. “Cora couldn’t decide which book to bring.”

      “Thank you for coming, Rose. I can’t tell you how I appreciate the time to get a few things done.” Juliette would not tell her exactly what things just yet. “I hope to be back within an hour.”

      “No need to thank me. Cora needs a bit of diversion. Without school, she gets restless.”

      “From what I hear, the new teacher will be here any day,” Juliette said.

      “Hope the new one’s better than the last one.” Cora sighed. “He didn’t teach us anything. Just let the boys run wild and the girls talk about everybody.”

      “I hope so, too. We’re lucky to get one at all, though. Most teachers choose a position that pays better than we can offer.”

      “I only wish we knew more about him or her.” Rose rubbed her arms briskly, wiping away the lingering chill from her blouse. “Since the school board is in Smith’s Ridge, and they’re doing the hiring, our new teacher could come from the moon and we wouldn’t know any better.”

      “Well—schoolmaster or schoolmistress, from earth or the moon, it will have to be better than no teacher at all,” Juliette pointed out.

      “Maybe,” Cora muttered with a good deal of doubt evident on her young face as she sat at a table and opened her book. “I’d rather be home with my reading than hear those girls gossip when they ought to be paying attention to the lesson. And if that nasty Charlie Gumm pulls my braid one more time—I’ll have to punch him, I reckon.”

      “And get sent home for a week?” Rose shot her sister a severe frown.

      “I might learn more on my own if we get a teacher like Mr. Smythe was. I don’t think he was from the moon. Maybe Mars, though.”

      “I suppose we shouldn’t judge the new teacher, not even knowing a thing about them,” Juliette said, going out the front door with a backward glance.

      “I reckon so,” answered Cora, but she sounded far from convinced.

      Outside, wind seemed to come at her from every direction. Snow was on its way. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t worry overmuch that it would keep customers home. If the widow Pugley accepted the offer that Juliette presented, there would be money to purchase the hotel and plenty for renovations, too.

      She felt a lightness in her step that she hadn’t felt in quite a while. At the same time, her stomach was a nervous mess.

      Thanks to the generosity of Laura Lee Quinn—no doubt Creed by now—the opportunity of a lifetime was within her reach.

      But only so long as Mrs. Pugley had been sincere in her desire to leave Beaumont Spur.

      * * *

      Coming home to Beaumont Spur was even more taxing to Trea’s nerves than he expected it to be.

      Huddled into his coat against the cold, he leaned against the wall of the train station at Smith’s Ridge, wondering if he was making the right decision in going home.

      Not that wondering made a bit of difference, since he’d already made the decision. He was good and committed to the course he’d set.

      A lot of years had passed since he last walked the streets of Beaumont. It hadn’t even been called Beaumont Spur back then, just plain Beaumont.

      Would folks still look at him with disapproval after all this time? His pa would. The old cuss would be ashamed to his bones.

      And the girls whose affections he’d dallied with? They would be grown women—mothers, even. Would they judge him harshly?

      He was a changed man now—reformed. He only hoped they would see past who he had been to who he had become. Because if they didn’t...

      The train whistle blew, letting the waiting passengers know they could board the train and get out of the frigid weather.

      He picked up the bag of a young lady who seemed to be on her own and carried it up the steps of the train car. She smiled appreciatively at him. He let the smile warm him through, since he couldn’t be sure he would get another anytime soon.

      There was no telling what awaited him at home. He had a lot to atone for, and it was important that he do it. He could not be the upright fellow he’d set his course to be unless he did.

      The lady nodded her thanks, then sat down on the bench across from him.

      Something about her reminded him of Juliette Moreland. The sweetness of her expression—the way she tipped her head to one side when she spoke? That might be it. That, or the spark of goodwill that brightened her blue eyes and reflected a kind soul.

      One of the reasons he was so nervous about going home was Juliette, even though she was probably the one person in town he had not wronged in some way.

      As wild a boy as he’d been, when Juliette looked at him, he’d felt worth something.

      That was it, then. He was on edge because he feared seeing her look at him like everyone else had. Over the years, growing in maturity and wisdom, she might see him differently than she had back then. As a woman grown she might judge him more harshly.

      That fifteen-year-old girl who had followed him one hot summer night to the shed where he’d hidden from an angry storekeeper, the sweet girl who’d sat with him, sharing her dinner, might see him differently now.

      Looking back, it seemed odd—but sitting in that secluded space with darkness coming on—blame it, he wouldn’t have talked and laughed the evening away with anyone but Juliette.

      He’d entertained a lot of girls in that shed. The memories were heated but vague. Visions of pretty faces melded one into one another—their sighs all the same.

      The only one he remembered with clarity was Juliette.

      She was—just better than anyone else he’d ever met.

      Beautiful—it