A Texas Christmas Reunion. Carol Arens

used to live here a long time ago. He was a friend of Thomas’s. He’s come back to teach school.”

      “All right, then, I suppose he can hold the baby if you don’t have the time.”

      Juliette slid a steak out of the frying pan with a spatula then eased it onto a plate. She ladled a large mound of mashed potatoes beside the meat and topped it off with gravy.

      Given the bad news she was about to deliver, she added more gravy. Not that it would help overmuch, but she did make delicious gravy. It was her late father’s recipe and it always brought her comfort to serve it.

      Coming from the kitchen to the dining room, she set the plate on the table in front of Trea, then reached for Lena. It did not escape her notice—or her heart—that he nuzzled her baby’s round pink cheek before handing her over.

      Given that he was the devil come home to roost, he was quite doting.

      Laying her daughter over her shoulder, Juliette sat down across from Trea. She patted Lena’s small back and breathed in the intoxicating scent so unique to infants.

      “I think the Christmas pageant is a grand idea, Trea. Our town needs something like that. Beaumont Spur has become such a hopeless place. Good families are threatening to leave. I hope something like gathering to hear their children sing will make them reconsider.”

      “It seems to me there ought to be a bit of fun along with learning arithmetic and the ABCs. I don’t recall that we had that.”

      “You don’t recall it because we didn’t. It’s a good idea, though.”

      Juliette was glad there were no late evening customers tonight. It was cozy in the dining room with the snow falling gently past the windows and the fire snapping in the hearth.

      For just an instant, she thought how lovely it would be to have a home, complete with a father for her babies.

      She did not let the dream linger for longer than an instant, though. The reality was that her family consisted of her babies and her father-in-law.

      She was content with that. Yes, she most surely was.

      Still, it was nice to look across the table and see her childhood friend—well, for honesty’s sake, she would have to admit he was her handsome childhood friend—smiling at her.

      “This has been nice, Juliette. I reckon I’ll be back in the morning for breakfast.” Trea scooped up the last bit of gravy with a spoon. “But I’d better get on my way before the snow gets any worse. I’m anxious to see the place I bought.”

      “Yes—well, about that. There was a fire last week. It burned your house—half of it, anyway.”

       Chapter Five

      The next morning, wet ash coated the soles of Trea’s boots when he walked from the burned side of the house to the standing remains. It didn’t leave a mark, since the floor was already dredged in soot.

      The storm having blown over, sunlight shone through holes in the ceiling, illuminating the damage.

      He felt a few holes in his sense of financial security, as well. Buying this place had cost him most of his savings.

      “Well, hell,” he muttered, since no one was close enough to hear the dejected curse.

      Had it been summer, he might have been able to live in the house while he made repairs. But in deep December the nip of the icy wind made him shiver, even though he stood in a patch of weak sunshine.

      A bug bite on his rear end made him wonder if, even with the cold, he ought to live here. Juliette had warned him about the hotel, but he’d had no choice but to spend the night there.

      Glancing about, he didn’t wonder long. The stench of smoke in ruined furniture and black streaks coating scorched walls told him he’d be spending a lot more nights at the hotel.

      Which was not such bad news as it might have been, even having insects for roommates. The woman who owned the hotel was leaving this afternoon and Juliette, he had been surprised and happy to discover, was the new owner.

      When he’d left his room this morning a crew of young people was already coming in to clean the place.

      “From attic to basement,” Juliette, standing in the lobby early this morning, had announced with a great smile.

      In fact, she had been glowing, her blue eyes sparkling when she told him of the plan she had come up with during the night to bring the town together.

      Her intention was to open on Christmas Eve and host a dinner for everyone in her new restaurant. She believed this was a grand way to introduce the place.

      She might have given herself an impossible task. Christmas Eve was only three weeks away. A fact that he was not about to point out to someone who, he suspected, was floating an inch off the ground when she spun away from him to follow the cleaning crew upstairs.

      Then again, his impression was that Juliette had grown to be a determined woman. Not only that, she was even more industrious than she was determined.

      There was every chance she would accomplish the impossible.

      Glancing about the ruins of his home, he decided to take her example to heart. He would fix this place up with a cheerful attitude, a positive frame of mind. He would not allow the hole in his finances to make a hole in his intentions.

      While he waited for spring and the chance to rebuild his bank account and his house, he would win over the townsfolk and educate their children.

      If it was within his power, he would stand in the way of his students taking the hard, twisted path he had followed.

      “Heard you were back.”

      Trea turned toward the voice coming from the burned side of the house. It still sounded as hard as grinding gravel.

      He’d expected his father to look older, but he was surprised to see how dissipated he’d become. Hard living showed in his face and it was a disquieting thing to look at.

      “Good to see you, Pa,” he said, even though it was more lie than truth.

      “Heard a rumor that you’re the new schoolmarm.” His father dabbed his nose on his sleeve then coughed, the congestion sounding thick and sickly.

      “You ailing, Pa?”

      “Sick at heart, thanks to you. At least tell me you faked the education that got you the sissy job.”

      Trea knew he shouldn’t let his father’s attitude cut him like it did. The man was who he was and nothing Trea did or did not do would change that.

      He hadn’t come back to town thinking to impress his father, only—