Thanksgiving Groom (9 page)

He wasn't even sure what he was looking for any more.

“Not pushing, Tucker. And believe me, I still have my man card.”

“Good to hear.” Tucker leaned back in the seat of the truck. Heated leather. “Man, I'm tired.”

“I bet you are. You're crazy, too. I can't believe you went off like that.”

“Me? At least I knew where I was going. I didn't hop in a Jeep and go hunting for buried treasure.”

Jake laughed. “Penelope again?”

The way he said it bugged Tucker.
Yeah, Penelope again.
If he closed his eyes, he could picture her walking along that trail, huddled into her coat and limping, but singing Christmas carols.

He shook his head to clear the image, the way he used to shake an Etch-a-Sketch to undo a drawing. It didn't work, though. Instead, he could almost hear her singing “Silent Night.”

 

Penelope tiptoed down the stairs of the bed-and-breakfast, slipped on her coat and slid out the door. It was still dark. She didn't mind. She'd lived in Alaska her entire life. Her ancestors had come here in the late 1800s and bought up land that later proved to be rich in gold and oil.

Her father had invested in tourism, which he considered the oil of the future. Penelope knew his business, how it operated and what it could do. When she tried to become a part of things he got bristly. That was his reason for the manhunt to secure her a nice husband who would provide for her needs and keep her at home, working on charity events.

People were up and around, even though it was barely six in the morning. She'd left a note on her bed for her parents. She wanted a cup of Lizbet's coffee and a cinnamon roll. She didn't want more questions or a lecture. She didn't want to face her dad when he said that it was time to go home.

It hadn't happened before in her life, but Treasure Creek had changed things for her. This felt like home. This community and its people had settled in her heart in a way she knew her family wouldn't understand.

Last night, when she tried to explain it to her parents, they'd cut her off. She didn't like that feeling, as if she were still a teenager and had no right to make her own choices. She wasn't going back to that world, or to hiding her life in secrets and lies.

She walked through the door of the diner and a bell jingled as the door closed. A few people shot curious glances her way. She waved at the morning waitress, Becca, as she slid into a booth and turned her cup over for the anticipated cup of coffee.

“Penelope, we worried that we weren't going to get you back.” Becca pulled out her order pad. She smiled big, her dark hair pulled up in a spiky ponytail and her white blouse pressed free of wrinkles. She was young, maybe eighteen. Young enough to still have some acne. “What will you have this morning?”

“I want coffee, and I'm dying for a cinnamon roll.”

Becca poured coffee, and the aroma lifted with the steam from the mug. “Here you go. So, was it rough out there? I mean, did you see wolves? Did you nearly freeze?”

“I got lucky and found shelter.” Easy words for landing in the arms of Tucker Lawson.

And Becca wasn't fooled. The girl grinned. “Yeah, you found shelter. Tucker Lawson, that's pretty amazing to be stuck in the woods with him. Last night, when it was announced that he'd been found, you should have heard the uproar. Half of those fancy women that have come to town were positive they could steal him if he came back to town.”

“The Johnsons were with us.” Penelope assured the younger woman. “And the women are welcome to him.”

“Yeah, but still.”

“Nothing happened.” Heat settled in Penelope's cheeks.

Becca's smile softened from teasing to kind. “Oh, I know it didn't. I was just teasing you.”

“I know.” Penelope stirred in creamer and sugar. “And it's good to be back.”

“I'll get that cinnamon roll. I'll make sure it has extra frosting on it.”

Penelope's mouth watered in anticipation.

When Becca walked away, she looked up and realized people were watching. A few were obviously talking about her. She folded her napkin and folded it again. They probably had questions similar to the ones that Becca asked.

Which meant it might be better to leave with her parents. She loved this place, but she didn't want to be the person everyone was talking about. At least in Anchorage she had her life, her safety zone.

It hurt, thinking of losing the life she had thought
she'd found in Treasure Creek. She just wanted to be Penelope, someone people liked for herself, not for who she was.

The door of the diner opened. Penelope glanced up and smiled when Amy James walked in and headed in her direction. The other woman, older than Penelope by just a few years, smiled. Amy was one of her real reasons for finding faith. Penelope had never met anyone like the widowed mother of two. With everything happening to Amy, she still had faith. She still believed that God was going to do something big in her life and in her community.

Her faith had been infectious. From the first moment that Penelope met her, to the time when Amy gave a brief testimony in church, Penelope had been convinced that Amy had something real, something she needed. Something her life had been missing. And she just hadn't realized what it was until Amy put a name on it: faith.

“Penelope, I'm so glad you're back and safe.” Amy slid into the seat opposite Penelope.

“I'm glad, too. It was a real journey.”

“You proved yourself, though, didn't you?” Amy turned her cup over for Becca to fill it. “Eggs and toast, Becca, the usual.”

Amy pulled her red hair back in a ponytail and then she relaxed in the seat. She was waiting for details. Penelope realized that's what everyone would expect. But Amy was different. She had blue eyes that were wise and compassionate. She had strength—physical, mental and spiritual.

“I guess if I came here to prove that I could survive in the wilderness, I definitely did that. My brother will be
proud that I can go without a department store.” Penelope smiled as Becca returned, setting the plate with the cinnamon roll in front of her. The sweet, sticky mess, with lots of cinnamon, was exactly what she needed to get her day off to a good start. “I missed these.”

“I bet you did.” Amy sipped her coffee and then set the cup down. “People are talking. They say you went off in search of the treasure?”

Penelope swallowed a bite of cinnamon roll. “I did. I just thought, if I could find it, you would have the money you need to help the town, to help keep things going until the economy picks up.”

Amy smiled, laced her fingers together and rested her hands on the table—and for a long moment she sat there. Penelope never expected tears. She grabbed a napkin and handed it to the other woman.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to cry. But seriously, Penelope, there are so many people searching for this treasure, and it matters to me that you wanted it for us, for the town.”

“I don't need the treasure, Amy.”

“I know you don't. That doesn't always stop people.”

“I know. But Amy, this town, the people here, you've all become so important to me.”

“But how would you have found the treasure?”

Penelope looked out the window at a town wearing a thin coat of snow. She thought about Thanksgiving here, about the big community dinner. She thought about how they had all come together.

“Penelope?” Amy's voice was soft.

“I saw the map you were showing someone.”

“Yeah, but seeing a map and then taking off on your own…”

“It was a crazy thing to do. But I have a photographic memory. I had taken a hike with one of the tours, and while we were walking, I thought I recognized something from the map.”

“Photographic?”

Penelope nodded. “Please don't tell. It isn't a big deal. I just remember things that I see. I saw the map and I wanted to do something.”

Amy reached for Penelope's hands. “You have my word. And while we're talking, I wanted to ask if you're staying.”

“I plan on it. Why?”

“I wanted to ask if you'd help out with the Christmas pageant. We're having, well, fun. Life is a little crazy right now, with all of the new people in town, and the ladies…”

The unfinished sentence said a lot. Women from the city. And quite a few were like Penelope; wealthy socialites looking for excitement. That had to be making life interesting for the locals.

“Sure, I'd be happy to help with the Christmas program,” Penelope said. “I can decorate, or even help get the word out.”

“You can sing.” Amy waited until Becca refilled her cup and walked away. The waitress stood there for a moment longer than necessary. With a sweet smile from Amy, the girl rushed off.

Amy laughed a little. “That girl loves to hear what's going on. Anyway, I know you sing.”

“I'm okay.”

“I heard you sing in church. You're more than okay. We really need someone who can sing. Joleen, well, God bless her, she can't get the words right to ‘Silent Night.' I don't know what it is about that song, but she constantly has angels appearing to the Wise Men and worse.”

“Worse?”

“It's been a long week.” Amy smiled. “So, what do you say?”

“I'll help. I'll do whatever you need.”

Amy pulled her phone out of her pocket and frowned. Penelope waited, hoping the text wasn't bad news.

“Amy, are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, I'm fine. Penelope, Reed needs to talk to you. He wants me to walk you over to his office.”

I
f he could have picked anywhere to be at that moment, Tucker wouldn't have picked sitting in Reed Truscott's office at seven in the morning. When Penelope walked through the door and saw him, that feeling doubled.

“Chief Truscott, how can I help you?” Penelope shoved her hands into her jacket pocket. Trembling hands, Tucker noticed.

He watched as she approached the desk. Man, he felt for her. He imagined himself standing in front of the principal's desk twenty years ago. She probably felt about the same way.

“Have a seat.” Reed nodded toward an empty chair on the other side of his desk. “I just want to ask a few questions.”

“Okay.” She sat down but she didn't lean back. She didn't relax.

“Penelope, is there anyone you can think of who would be following you?” Reed could have done a better job of asking that question. Tucker wanted to retract it, to start with something that gave her the opportunity to think about what happened. Not that she really even
knew. He had kept the footprints from her because he didn't wanted to scare her.

When he glanced her way she was staring at him. He smiled but she didn't return the gesture. Instead her gaze shot back to Amy, who had accompanied her.

“I can't think of anyone. It isn't as if I run with a rough crowd.”

Reed smiled. He stretched and then he laced his fingers behind his head. “No, I didn't figure you were hanging with a dangerous crowd.”

“So why would you even think that someone would be after me?” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Why is Tucker here?”

She aimed the question at Tucker, not at Reed.

“I'm here because I went to Reed with some information.”

“Information?” She remained on the edge of the standard office chair, jeans tucked into the snow boots she'd hiked out in. Her jacket wasn't the old down-filled coat she'd worn. The brown coat was knee length and she pulled it close around herself.

“Penelope, there was someone at the cabin.” Tucker scooted his chair so that he faced her. “I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't tell you that Clark and I found footprints and a campsite.”

“You think it had to do with me.”

“It happened the day after you showed up. I also think they followed us away from the cabin.”

She shivered a little. “I can't imagine who it would have been.”

Reed cleared his throat. “Could I add to this conversation? You are Penelope Lear.”

“So?”

“Well, I think we have to consider the possibility that someone could take you for a ransom. This treasure map has brought people to town who aren't the most trustworthy. They want a treasure, and I don't think they care how they get it.”

“But no one knew that I was going for a drive that day.”

“No one?” Tucker found that hard to believe. He'd been around her and knew how she loved to talk.

She glanced at him. Or maybe it was more of a glare. An ice-cold, blue-eyed glare. “I bought a few supplies and rented a Jeep. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth, but he fought it back by clearing his throat. “Of course.”

“Well, it obviously doesn't matter. If someone wanted to snatch me, they would have done it by now.”

Reed returned to the conversation. Tucker watched the cop pull his gaze from Amy, back to Penelope. Four months changed things. It changed how people felt. It changed how Reed looked at Amy.

It hadn't changed Tucker much. He didn't feel as if he knew one thing more than when he'd left. Four months getting his head on straight should have done something more than have him thinking about Penelope Lear.

Last night he'd gone through his dad's paperwork. Of course he'd left everything to Tucker. Not that there was much of anything to leave. An old fishing boat, a truck and the house. He was still going through paperwork, but he didn't expect much more than that.

None of it really mattered. Saying goodbye would have mattered. He forced himself back into the con
versation and listened as Reed explained to Penelope that she needed to stay close to town and not go off by herself. Tucker wondered how long she'd listen to the cop's advice.

The office door opened, bringing a gust of cold air and Herman Lear. Tucker glanced from the man in the doorway to the woman sitting a few feet away from him. She froze and then her mouth dropped a little. He hated what he saw. By calling her father, Reed had put her squarely back in Herman's control.

Obviously she thought he'd made the call, not Reed. She glared at him, her eyes tearing up for the first time since Reed had called her into his office. The idea of someone following her didn't upset her. Her father's presence did.

“What's going on?” Herman Lear stood in the center of the room, a dominating force in a black overcoat, his hair steel gray and his face weathered but still hard and unbending.

“Mr. Lear, I called you here because we have reason to believe your daughter's safety is in jeopardy.”

“What makes you believe that?”

Tucker stood up and indicated for the older man to sit, mainly because they'd all relax if Mr. Lear wasn't looming over them. “Someone followed her into the woods.”

“Do you have proof?”

“Someone was snooping around the cabin while she was there and someone followed us back to town.”

Herman Lear turned his back on Tucker, ignoring the chair, and stared at his daughter. “Did you notice anyone?”

“Not once. It could be anything.” Penelope's chin jutted and her voice was strong.

“I don't care. You're going to pack your bags and head home.”

Penelope shook her head. “No, I'm not. I'm staying in Treasure Creek.”

“I think this vacation of yours is over. I'm not going to leave you here and have something happen to you.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“Why in the world do you want to stay here?” Herman sat on the edge of Reed's desk.

“I love this town, Dad. And I don't think I'm in danger.”

“Well, I think you are. I know you're an adult, but this is about your safety. We're flying out this afternoon.”

“I'm not.” She picked up her purse and stood. “Chief Truscott, I appreciate the warning. Dad, I'm not leaving.”

She didn't tell Tucker goodbye, just glanced his way and then smiled at Amy as she walked out the door. Tucker watched as she walked across the snow-covered street in the direction of the general store.

 

Joleen Jones grabbed Penelope as she walked through the door of the general store. Penelope stiffened and then relaxed, because it was Joleen. Exuberant, energetic Joleen. Poor Mr. Peterson. It seemed that he was still the target of the socialite in the fur coat, suede boots and overdone jewelry. As horrendous as it all was, Joleen was still easy to like.

“Well, honey, it is about time you made it back to town.”

Penelope smiled at the greeting. “It's good to be back.”

She glanced in the direction of the police station and let out a quick sigh of relief because no one had followed her. So, now that she was here, what did she buy? How did she kill time in Treasure Creek's general store?

She could be like the men who stood on the corner with their cups of coffee. It wasn't good coffee. She'd tried it when she first came to town. And then she figured out that it was “guy” coffee. It was strong enough to cut through metal and was meant to keep women at bay.

The general store, she learned from Amy, was where the men of Treasure Creek came to hang out. Not to gossip, of course. Men don't gossip. They talk about the weather and about politics. And sometimes about what their neighbors were up to. But it was never gossip. Penelope smiled and then turned her attention back to the perfume cloud that was Joleen.

“Are you going to church tonight?” Joleen asked a little loudly. Probably more for Harry than Penelope.

“I might, if I can get away.” From her parents.

But Joleen was going to church?

Penelope smiled, because she knew that people in town had prayed for Joleen. She was positive they'd prayed for her as well.

“Well, what about the Christmas pageant? My goodness, honey, you missed out on so much, and you weren't gone long at all. And not only that, but I heard you came back to town with that hunky lawyer who has been missing since June. Is he off his rocker?”

“What?”

Joleen softened her smile. “I mean, he took off on his own and he's been gone for months. That isn't something a sane person would do. People in town are talking, wondering if maybe he had some kind of breakdown.”

“He seemed fine.” Penelope sifted through the rack of jeans. Normal, plain old jeans. She pulled off a couple of pairs that would fit her and then grabbed a couple of sweatshirts.

“You're not going to wear that!?” Joleen covered her mouth with her hand and then turned a little pink because Harry cleared his throat. “Not that they aren't lovely.”

“They're warm. If you ever end up lost in the woods, you'll appreciate warm. Hey, how is Delilah?”

“Who knows.”

“I thought the two of you were friends.”

“We were, until I realized she doesn't have a loyal bone in her body. And who needs friends who aren't loyal?”

Penelope nodded because she got that. Across the street at the police station, Tucker Lawson was telling people stories about her life. She supposed he thought he was protecting her, but he was really just signing his name on her fate. Her dad would claim her life for good, and all because Tucker came up with some crazy idea that people might follow her.

“I'm sure it's a misunderstanding.” Penelope walked to the counter to pay for her items. The door opened and Delilah walked in. Joleen stalked out of the store.

Delilah, head down, walked to the back of the first aisle. Penelope smiled at Harry, his face red and his mouth in a grim line.

“It's always interesting.” Penelope pulled out money for her purchases.

Harry glanced up and then back to his cash register. “I could do with a little less interesting, less excitement.”

“Oh, come on, Harry, would you really want us all gone?” Penelope laughed because his face turned a deeper shade of pink. “Imagine life if we hadn't shown up.”

“Yes, I imagine it quiet again.”

“I know what you mean.” But Harry was watching out the window. Joleen sashayed across the street to a small boutique that had probably never seen so much traffic.

Harry counted her change back and handed her the bag with the jeans and sweatshirts. “Those will do you a lot better the next time you're stranded in the cold.”

Penelope managed to laugh. “I don't plan on letting that happen again.”

Her mother was waiting on the sidewalk outside the general store. Penelope stopped, bags from the store hitched over her shoulder. Snow fell softly from the gray sky. A few people walked past them, pardoning themselves.

Victoria Lear looked perfect. She always looked perfect. Her hair, makeup, clothes, it was all part of the package. And Penelope had always felt a little like the discount kid.

Penelope had always been the one causing problems by chasing off after some new experience. Her mother had once told her that charity was about giving money, not about getting caught up in other people's problems.

“Your father told me we have a problem.”

Penelope shrugged and started walking. Her mother walked next to her. “Mom, I'm not going home.”

Victoria glanced at her, and then to her right. “I don't blame you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don't blame you. If you come home your father will take over. He doesn't mean to, but he does it. He can't help it. So you stay here and you find something that makes you happy.”

“Is this a trap?” They were close to the little courtyard that would have been green and flowering if it had been summer. Instead it was covered in a dusting of fresh snow and sprinkled with lights that would sparkle this evening. Someone had built a snowman. He looked a little thin because the snow was scant and powdery.

“It isn't a trap. I want you safe. I also want you happy. That's what I noticed last night. I noticed that for the first time in years, even after everything you've gone through, you looked content.”

“So you want me to stay?”

“Not forever.” Her mom shivered. “Seriously, this is a place to visit, not a place to live. There's nowhere in this entire town to get a good manicure.”

Penelope looked down at her hands, fortunately gloved and out of sight. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Victoria kissed her cheek and Penelope breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I'm going back to our room. I think we'll leave tomorrow.”

“I'll be back shortly. I want to peek in at the church to see if they've finished decorating.”

“Penelope, please be cautious.”

“I'll be cautious.”

“And come home for Thanksgiving. It's a little over a week away.”

Home for Thanksgiving. Earlier she'd been thinking of Thanksgiving in Treasure Creek, not at home in a formal dining room with a catered meal. Her thoughts were still on the holiday when she walked out of the church a few minutes later. Halfway down the sidewalk a hand touched her shoulder. Before she could scream, another covered her mouth.