Natalie rested a staying hand on her son’s shoulder as she turned to address her grandfather. “This gentleman is our new next-door neighbor, Gramps. It seems that Chad wreaked havoc over at his place, throwing tomatoes at his house, among other things. He estimates the damage at a thousand dollars or more.”
“Ha!” the old man snorted. He nailed Zeke with an imperious stare. “You find any fingerprints on them there tomaters, mister?”
The absurdity of the question gave Zeke pause. Then he glanced at the boy. “Dusting for prints wasn’t necessary. The kid is covered with tomato pulp.”
Natalie’s grandfather leaned around, narrowed his eyes, and peered at his great-grandson. When the old man straightened, he said, “Tomaters is a purdy common crop. We got a bunch ripe for pickin’ ourselves.”
“Gramps,” Natalie inserted. “Please. You’re only making matters worse.”
“Hmph. Worse how?” Gramps hooked his thumbs under his overall straps, rocked back on his worn-down heels, and glared at Zeke. “You know who yer messin’ with, boy? Westfields, that’s who.”
The name didn’t ring any bells, but Zeke refrained from saying so.
“Been Westfields in this area for nigh on to a hundred years,” the old man continued. “Don’t come on this property makin’ wild accusations without no proof. We don’t take kindly to smears on the family name.”
Zeke didn’t take kindly to smears on his house, but again he held his tongue. The old man’s face was an angry red. Zeke didn’t want him to have a stroke.
Natalie released her son to curl an arm around her grandfather’s frail shoulders. “Gramps, you’re missing your game show.”
“To hell and tarnation with game shows!” Gramps said with a snort. “Like I got nothin’ better to do?” His withered mouth puckered like a drawstring pouch. “I’m politely invitin’ you to get off this property, mister. Our Chad’s a good boy. He wouldn’t do nothin’ like you say he done. You readin’ me loud and clear?”
“Gramps, please,” Natalie said again, only her voice was firmer this time. “That’s enough. Mr. Coulter hasn’t been unpleasant, and Chad has confessed to doing the damage.”
“Say what?” Gramps blinked. Then he leaned around Natalie to peer at the child again. “That true, Chad?”
Chad nodded sullenly. Just about then, the screen door whacked the exterior of the house again, and a dark-haired siren in a red miniskirt and cropped tank top appeared on the veranda. She looked a lot like Natalie, but her long, curly hair was stiff with styling gel and she was walking straight legged, balancing her weight on her heels. Zeke glanced at her bare feet and saw that she had cotton balls between her toes.
“Hey,” she said, flashing him a sultry smile. “I’m Valerie, Nat’s younger sister.” Coming to a stop at the porch rail, she relaxed her stance, splayed a slender hand over one shapely hip, and winked. “Did I hear someone say ‘new neighbor’?”
“I’m Zeke Coulter.” Zeke would have known the girl was Natalie’s younger sister without being told. The two women might have been poured from the same mold. He guessed the younger version to be in her early twenties, not exactly jailbait, but close. “I bought the place next door.”
“Way cool,” Valerie said, smoothing her fingertips provocatively over her hipbone. “Finally, something interesting happens out here in the back of beyond.” She popped her chewing gum, a habit that drove Zeke crazy, and grinned, flashing a dimple similar to Natalie’s. “I’ve been home for only two weeks, and already I’m dying of boredom.”
The insinuation was that Zeke might provide her with some much-needed diversion. The smell of her perfume drifted across the yard. Obsession. He recognized the scent because his sister Bethany often wore it. No question about it. Valerie was a hot little package, all curves and long legs, with big, dark, expressive eyes to suck a man under before he realized he was drowning. Zeke had long since learned not to wade in deep water. He just felt older than dirt when he looked at her.
He bit back a smile, no offense intended, and returned his attention to Natalie, who was still trying to soothe her grandfather. She wasn’t his type, either. Nice to look at, though. He preferred naturally beautiful women who didn’t need heavy makeup, stiletto heels, and slinky black dresses to catch a man’s eye.
Natalie glanced at her watch again. Patting her grandfather’s shoulder, she said, “I want you to go back in the house now, Gramps.” She turned to her son. “You, too. And to your bedroom, young man. No television, no computer games, no music, no Harry Potter. I want you to stare at the ceiling and think about what you’ve done. In the morning, we’ll discuss this further and decide on a punishment.”
In Zeke’s day, the punishment would have been meted out with a wide leather belt. As a kid, he’d detested those trips to the barn with his dad, but the sting had stayed with him for hours and made him think twice before he messed up again. Watching Chad slouch away, struggling to preserve his tough-guy image, Zeke couldn’t help but think that an old-fashioned march to the barn might be just what he needed.
Zeke heard the screen door slap open again. Why am I not surprised? He was one of six kids and had family members oozing out from under the baseboards. As he focused on the newest character in the Westfield clan, a younger version of Gramps with salt-and-pepper hair, a few less wrinkles, and patched overalls with holes at the knees, Zeke decided that his relatives were downright normal by comparison.
“Dad, what’re you doing out here?” the younger gramps asked as he gimped across the patchy lawn, one hand pressed to his lower back. “Sounds to me like Natalie is telling you to shut up, and you aren’t listening.”
Natalie sent the new arrival an imploring look. “Pop, would you make Gramps go back inside? He isn’t helping this situation any.”
Pop scratched his head, which, to his credit, didn’t look as if it needed shampooing. “Dad, you need to come back in the house. Nattie can handle this.”
“She can’t, either. She needs a man to stand up for her and the boy. That no-account husband of hers is too durned busy with that blond harlot to take care of his family. That leaves you and me.”
Pop, whom Zeke guessed to be Natalie’s father, hooked an arm around the older man’s shoulders. “Come on, Dad. You ever heard that joke about the Chihuahua pissin’ on a fire hydrant? Positive thinking can only take you so far.”
“A what pissin’ on a what?” Gramps clearly didn’t appreciate the comparison. “The bastard’s big, I’ll grant you that, but I’m not afraid of him. If I hit a man and he don’t fall, I’ll walk around behind to see what’s holdin’ him up!”
Natalie closed her eyes as her father and grandfather shuffled away. With every step, Gramps muttered under his breath about Court TV and Natalie selling Chad down the river. Natalie’s father just shook his head and continued herding the old man toward the porch.
Natalie sighed, fixed Zeke with an imploring gaze, and said, “I wish I could say he has Alzheimer’s.”
Zeke could sympathize. His relatives weren’t quite so colorful, but on occasion, his boisterous brothers had given him cause for embarrassment. He glanced past Natalie to spare a long look at Valerie’s shapely legs as she helped her father and grandfather up the steps, no easy feat with cotton balls between her toes.
“Valerie just broke up with her boyfriend and lost her job.” Natalie shrugged. “A family trait, I guess. When everything goes wrong, we run home to the farm.” Her smile was tremulous. She drew in a bracing breath. “I’ll happily pay for the repairs to your house and garden,” she assured him. “Chad is having a rough time right now, accepting the divorce—and other things. He’s been acting out and being difficult. I think he’s hoping that he’ll finally do something bad enough to get his father’s attention.”
“Does his dad live out of town?”
She shook her head. “No. Right here in Crystal Falls. He’s just—busy.”
With the blond harlot? Zeke couldn’t imagine any father worth
his salt letting a woman take precedence over his child.
Natalie’s slender throat convulsed as she swallowed. “Look, Mr. Coulter.” Her gaze chased off to the fields. “I’m sure you’re not interested in our family dynamics. Suffice it to say that I know Chad did the damage to your house and garden. No contest.” She looked him straight in the eye again. “It’s just—well, I’m not in the best position right now to make restitution. Things have been tight.” She swung her hand at the table behind her, which told him the yard sale had been prompted more by sheer necessity than a need for revenge. “I’d like to say I could pay you next month—or the month after that.” She straightened her shoulders. “But the truth is, I honestly don’t know when I’ll be a thousand dollars ahead. Would you let me make installments?”
Zeke understood that this must be a difficult time for her. He’d overheard enough to know that her ex-husband wasn’t fulfilling his responsibilities, and supporting two kids without help couldn’t be easy. On the other hand, though, her son had damaged Zeke’s property. Zeke didn’t want to be a hard ass and call the cops, but there was no way he could let it slide, either. When a boy inflicted costly damages, he had to be held accountable.
Zeke rubbed his jaw. He didn’t want this prank, if it could be called that, to go on Chad’s record. “How about if we strike a deal?”
Her eyes filled with suspicion. “What kind of deal?”
Zeke almost grinned. She was a tempting package, but he wasn’t into bargaining for a piece of ass, as appealing as the prospect might be.
“I was thinking that Chad could work off the debt. It’ll be cheaper if I do the repairs myself. Why can’t he come over and help me?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
The more Zeke considered the solution, the more he thought it was a great idea. Inspired, even. The kid had a problem. A little hard work might be good for him. “The way I figure, paying minimum wage, he owes me”—he broke off to do some quick calculations—“about a hundred and forty hours. Calculating on a forty-hour week, that works out to be”—he paused again—“three and a half weeks.”
She looked distressed. “But he has camp.”
“Camp?”
“At the Lake of the Woods the last week of August. He goes every year.”
Zeke arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t camp expensive?”
“It’s church camp. The kids raise the money themselves with bake sales and car washes. So much else has been turned upside down in his life. I can’t take that away, too.” Her expression grew pensive. “Could he work for three weeks? I’ll come over and finish up for him, no problem.”
Zeke couldn’t believe she was offering. He’d seen her check her watch more than once. She worked swing shift somewhere. What did she mean to do, get up after a few hours of sleep and work all day for half a week, paying off her son’s debt? No way.
“This is the boy’s mess to clean up.” It seemed simple enough to Zeke. If you screwed up, you had to pay. “He’ll work off the debt himself, or I’ll call the law, your choice.”
“But—”
Zeke had been raised by his father’s iron hand. Right was right. If he’d been in Chad’s shoes, he’d have gotten a whipping and still been made to work off the debt. “Let me make myself clear, Mrs. Patterson. I’m bending as far as I intend to bend.”
“Chad is very—” She broke off to fix him with an imploring look. “He’s been through so much, Mr. Coulter, things you don’t understand. He’s very delicate right now.”
Delicate? The kid was a bank robbery waiting to happen. “That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
“I understand that you’re angry. That’s one of my concerns. I don’t want my son indentured to an unreasonable taskmaster for three and a half weeks. He needs to go to camp. He needs the interaction with other kids and some time with the counselors.”
He needed a swift kick in the ass. But Zeke was through arguing. “I’ll expect to see your son at my door at eight tomorrow morning,” he said in his “boss” voice, which came fairly easy after dealing with the incompetent Randall for six months. “If he doesn’t show, I’ll turn this matter over to the police.”
Zeke didn’t trust himself to stand there, looking into those pleading brown eyes, so he pivoted and took off. He’d gone about three paces when he heard a malevolent hissing sound. Before he could whip around, something bit him on the ass. He whirled to confront a flapping, maniacal gander, bent on doing him physical injury.
“Chester! Stop it!” Natalie cried. “Oh, God, Mr. Coulter, I’m sorry! Rosie must have let him out. I’ve had him in the pen all day because of the yard sale. He hates strangers.”
Trying to maintain his dignity, Zeke swatted at the gander as it flapped its way airborne to nip at his chest. Problem. There was nothing meaner or more viciously effective than a gander protecting its territory. Not even a Rottweiler was as ominous.
Zeke did the only thing any self-respecting cowboy could do.
He ran.
Chapter Two
Wavering between laughter and tears, Natalie watched Zeke Coulter race for home. His lean body roped with muscle from years of hard work, he carried himself with a relaxed confidence that told her the cowboy attire wasn’t only for looks. Yet with every few steps, he shot a glance over his shoulder to be sure he wasn’t in danger of being attacked from behind by the Westfield family goose.
Normally Natalie would have felt terrible about Chester pinching their neighbor, but Coulter’s uncaring attitude about an eleven-year-old boy missing summer camp went a long way toward tempering her regret. Chad had committed a grave wrong, and he deserved to suffer the consequences, but making him miss camp after he’d looked forward to it all summer seemed too severe a punishment.
When the gander finally gave up the chase and waddled back to the yard, Natalie leaned down to stroke his neck. “Good boy, Chester!” She knew it was an uncharitable thing to say, but she couldn’t quite help herself. Chad had taken so many hard hits over the last few months. It wasn’t fair that he should take another one. With a snicker, she added, “Just deserts. You put him on the run in short order.”
Chester quacked and nudged her hand for a treat.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t know in advance that you were going to be my knight in feathered armor.”
Clearly proud of himself, Chester lifted his wings and quacked softly. Sometimes Natalie could have sworn the silly old gander could talk.
She tapped his beak with a fingernail. “Yes, you did a good job,” she agreed. “Maybe that’ll teach the big old meanie not to be so obnoxious and dictatorial the next time.”
Next time? Natalie shuddered at the thought. If Chad stepped out of line again, Zeke Coulter might call the police.
From the corner of her eye, she saw her daughter Rosie approaching. Chester waddled away as Natalie straightened and turned toward the child.
“Hi, sweetie. How was your snooze?” It was the third time this week that Rosie had fallen asleep while watching television in the late afternoon. Normally the little girl took naps only under duress. The sudden change in her sleep patterns concerned Natalie. Was Rosie more upset by the upheaval in her life than she was letting on? “You were zonked for three whole hours.”
“I missed Scooby-Doo,” Rosie complained.
“Uh-oh.” Natalie crouched down to look her daughter in the eye. “Maybe it’ll come on again later and Gramps will let you watch it.”
“Maybe.” Rosie rubbed her brown eyes and then squinted to see across the field. “Who’s that man, Mommy?”
Natalie glanced over her shoulder. Pop’s new neighbor was now only a denim-blue blotch in the distance. “That’s Mr. Coulter. He moved in next door.”
“Did he come to look at our yard-sale stuff?”
Natalie chose to ignore the question. The less Rosie knew about her brother’s shenanigans the better. “Where are your shoes, sweetie? If you walk barefoot on the grass, you’re l
iable to get stung by a bee.”
“I forgot them in the house.” Rosie wiggled her bare toes and then lifted her arms. “I need a hug before you go to work.”
Natalie drew her daughter close. “A big hug or a little one?”
“Gigantic.”
Natalie pretended to squeeze as hard as she could, which made Rosie giggle. “Miss me while I’m gone?”
“Yes. I don’t like it when you leave.”
Natalie wished she didn’t have to go. Before the divorce, her mom had stayed with the kids at night, but that was no longer possible now that the marital residence had sold and Natalie lived with her dad. Naomi Westfield refused to be in the same house with her ex-husband, Pete, on a regular basis.
Right after the house sold, Natalie had dropped the children off at her mother’s on the way to work and picked them up when her shift ended, but that hadn’t lasted long. Naomi’s rented condo was in an all-adult community, and after only a week, the neighbors had started to complain about the kids being there so much.
“I have to go to work, sweetie. We can’t buy your Barbie a dune buggy without money, and I can’t make money unless I work. Bummer, huh?”
Rosie nodded.
Natalie sat back on her heels to smooth her daughter’s sleep-tousled curls. Rosie was so darling, a dark-haired, sloe-eyed little angel. Whenever Natalie started thinking of her marriage as a horrible mistake, she had only to look at her kids to know that all the heartbreak and disillusionment had been worth it. “You have fun at night with Aunt Valerie, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh. I just miss you and Grammy.”
Natalie could understand that. Valerie loved her niece and nephew, and she was making a gallant effort to fill in for Natalie at night, but her zany personality and fun-and-games approach to babysitting were a far cry from what the kids were used to. Grammy and Mommy had rules and enforced them. Valerie felt that rules stifled a child’s personality. Instead of making Chad and Rosie eat their vegetables, she fashioned baked-potato dolls with spinach hair or created landscapes on their plates, using smashed peas for grass, broccoli spears for trees, and carrots julienne to build split-rail fencing around cauliflower sheep.