Patricia Kay - The Millionaire and the Mum

The other thing that amazed him was how comfortable he felt. These three were virtual strangers, and Jack wasn’t exactly sociable, yet he felt at home. As he ate the plain but tasty food, he tried to figure out why he was at ease, finally deciding it was because Beth and her children were different from most of the people he knew. Despite their troubles, they counted their blessings, a concept unknown to most of the people Jack knew.

“Would you like more mashed potatoes?”

Jack accepted the bowl from Beth and helped himself to seconds. “The food’s great.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing much. Just simple country food.” The pleased expression on her face belied her offhand comment.

“Well, I like it.”

Now she smiled. “Good. Because it’s what you’re going to get from now on. Although I do promise not to serve you meat loaf more than once a week. That is,” she added quickly, “if you stay.”

Jack thought about their agreement of a week’s trial. When he’d suggested it, he’d hoped to have his answer about the supposed swindle perpetrated by his great-grandfather before the week was up, after which he’d be on his way, but now he found himself saying, “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

After a moment, she nodded. Then, in an obvious attempt to change the subject, she turned to Matthew and said brightly, “Matthew, honey, did Mrs. Ford give you any homework?”

“Only spelling words.”

“After supper we’ll work on them, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We didn’t even think about homework last night, the storm was so bad,” she explained to Jack.

“Where were you when the tornado hit? Here in the house?”

Beth grimaced. “Yes. There wasn’t anywhere safer to go. We just huddled inside the hall closet and prayed.”

“It was scary!” Amy said, eyes big as silver dollars.

“Yeah,” said Matthew. “It made this big roaring sound, just like a train.”

“I know. I saw a tornado once,” Jack said. Then he immediately wished he hadn’t, because where he’d seen it had been a small African country in the middle of a rebellion.

“You did?” Matthew asked.

“Yes, and you’re right, Amy, they are scary.”

“We were very lucky,” Beth said, “even though, this morning, when I saw all the damage to the greenhouses and equipment, I wasn’t thinking about being lucky. Now I’m ashamed of myself. Things can be replaced. People can’t.” Reaching out, she squeezed a hand of each of her children.

Although her eyes were downcast, Jack could swear he’d seen the glint of tears.

After a moment, she sighed deeply. “Well now, that’s enough emotion for one day. Who wants dessert?”

“Me!” shouted Matthew.

“Me!” squealed Amy.

“Me,” said Jack.

Beth grinned. “Butterscotch pudding coming right up.”

The kids downed their pudding faster than Jack would have believed possible, then they politely asked if they could be excused.

“Yes, you may, but don’t forget your spelling words, Matthew,” Beth said. “In fact, why don’t you go study them while I clean up the kitchen, then I’ll go over them with you?”

“Okay.”

The kids took off, and by the time Jack finished his pudding, Beth was already clearing the table. He began to help her.

“No, no,” she protested, “that’s not necessary. I’ll do it.”

“No big deal.” He was used to cleaning up after himself. The way he lived, he either cleaned up after himself or it didn’t get done. “If I help, the work will be finished twice as fast.”

Without further discussion, they finished clearing the table together.

Beth was all too aware of him as she washed the dishes and Jack dried them. Unlike most of the men she’d known throughout her life, Jack didn’t seem to feel awkward doing women’s work, as Eben had disdainfully called it.

She and Eben had never shared household chores. Eben considered cooking and cleaning and doing the dishes beneath him. Not manly. Yet Beth couldn’t imagine a man more masculine than Jack Stokes, and here he was, cheerfully helping her and not thinking a thing of it.

It was very pleasant working side by side. And just as Jack had promised, the work went a lot faster. Before she knew it, all the dishes had been dried and neatly stacked.

“Just show me where they go,” Jack said, “and I’ll put them away.”

“That’s okay. You’ve done enough.” Beth removed her apron and hung it on the hook at the side of the cupboard nearest the back door, where it joined several others.

“Well, I really do want to get back outside and finish up with the tree. Plus I’ll take a look at that compressor.”

“The compressor can wait until morning. It’s supposed to go down into the sixties tonight, so we’ll be comfortable. In fact, you can finish up with the tree tomorrow, too.”

“I only have about an hour’s worth of work left on that tree. I’d rather get it done tonight.”

“You know, as hard as you’re working, you’d think I was paying you top dollar.”

For a moment, his eyes met hers. Lordy, his eyes were sure blue. They reminded her of the color of the bluebonnets that covered the fields and roadsides in the spring.

“You are,” he answered quietly. “You’re giving me an opportunity to learn about growing roses.”

For the briefest moment, his statement caused a frisson of alarm to snake through her. Was that his angle? He wanted to learn about growing roses so he could go into competition with her? But as quickly as the thought had come, it disappeared. So what if he did have some idea like that? He’d soon find out how hard this life was. Lots of people like him, who knew nothing about roses, only saw the romance of the end product. But it didn’t take them long to get educated. Growing roses was just like growing corn or growing wheat or growing anything else. It was hard work. It was so hard, in fact, it would suck the life out of you if you weren’t careful. A person could work seven days a week, twelve and sixteen hours at a stretch, and there would still be mountains of work left to be done. Not to mention the fact that you were constantly battling something: too much rain, too little rain, grasshoppers, a downturn in the economy. “Well, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get,” she said lightly. “’Cause if I know anything, I know about growing roses.”

He nodded. “Guess I’ll get on out there, then.”

“All right.”

“When I’m done, I’ll head back to the motel, but I’ll be here early in the morning.”

“Okay. Plan to have breakfast with us.”

“You don’t—”

She cut him off. “I insist. We eat at seven, because Matthew’s bus comes at seven forty-five.”

He reached for the handle of the screen door. “Okay. Thanks again for supper.”

“You’re welcome.”

Almost exactly an hour later, as she sat at the kitchen table going over Matthew’s spelling words with him while Amy carefully colored a picture of kittens playing with a ball of yarn, Beth heard the sound of Jack’s truck starting, followed by the crunch of gravel as he turned the vehicle around and drove away down the driveway.

“Jack’s leaving,” Matthew said.

“Yes.”

“I like him.”

“I like him, too,” Amy said. “He’s nice.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to school tomorrow,” Matthew added. “Then I could help him. Can I stay home, Mama?”

“No, Matthew. It’s your job to go to school and learn a lot so when you grow up you’ll be able to take care of yourself.”

“But you said when I grow up I’m gonna grow roses. I can’t learn about that in school.” This last was said triumphantly.

“Yes, that’s true, but in order to run a farm like this, you also have to know how to read and write. You have to know math and computers and all kinds of things.”

“Are we gonna get a computer?” Matthew asked excitedly, zeroing in on the most important point just the way kids always seemed to.

“A ’puter!” Amy exclaimed. “Brittany has a ’puter, and they have the Rugrats game. When I go to her house, I gets to play it.” Brittany was her best friend Dee Ann’s daughter—three years older and Amy’s idol.

Beth tried to make her voice upbeat, even though it broke her heart to constantly disappoint her children. “We can’t get a computer right away, but I promise, we will get one.” She’d been wanting a computer for the business, too, but it was way down on her list of priorities, because you had to have something to sell before you needed to keep records, and the way things had been going the past couple of years, all her financial resources were needed just to keep her head above water. Still…she could buy a secondhand computer for the kids. Oh, yeah, sure. If she could find a secondhand computer for sale for ten dollars, then maybe she could afford it. Fat chance.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Matthew said, reaching out to touch her hand. “I don’t need a computer.”

“Yeah,” Amy said loyally. “We don’t need one.”

Beth swallowed against the lump in her throat. Getting up, she kissed them both in turn, saying softly, “What did I ever do to deserve two kids as wonderful as you?”

Jack got back to the motel after nine. As he drove past the office, he saw a woman inside. Mr. Temple was obviously gone for the day. Jack parked outside Unit Seven, noticing as he did that there were only two other cars in the parking lot. If that’s all the business they did, he wondered how they stayed afloat. Of course, this was a weeknight. Maybe they did better on weekends, although it wasn’t like this place was on a major highway. He couldn’t imagine that anyone coming through Rose Hill would go anywhere else. Rose Hill would pretty much have to be your destination.

He locked his truck and walked over to his room. Just as he inserted his key into his door, a voice said, “You been gone a long time. You must have got to see some farms today.”

Jack whirled around, automatically falling into a crouch and reaching for his gun. It took a moment before he realized where he was and that he had no gun. All his guns were safely locked up back at the mansion. Alarmed by his lapse, he hoped the old man—whom he belatedly realized was sitting in the shadows outside Unit Five—hadn’t noticed his odd reaction.

“I didn’t see you sitting there,” Jack said, walking over to where the motel owner sat.

“Not many people do. That’s why I like settin’ here. I can see ever’thing goin’ on, but nobody can see me. It’s in’erestin’.”

From what Jack could tell, there wasn’t anything going on. Unless you count the fact you tried to shoot Mr. Temple when he spoke to you.

“So did you get to see some farms?” the old man repeated curiously.

“Yes, I’ve been out at the Johnson place.” And then, because he knew the motel owner would find out about him working for Beth, anyway, Jack decided he might as well tell him. “I’m going to be working there for a while.”

“Is that a fact? I guess Bethie must have scrounged up some money from somewhere, then, ’cause she was sayin’ just last week how she didn’t know what she was gonna do this season. I told her she could try and get a loan from the First National, but she said her granny would roll over in her grave if she mortgaged the farm. Her granny didn’t believe in bein’ beholden to anyone. Course, most folks in these parts feel that way, leastwise the older folks, like me. We was growin’ up durin’ the Depression, and we remember how so many folks lost ever’thin’ to those banks, many of our parents included.”