One Thanksgiving in Lusty, Texas by Cara Covington (short novels in english TXT) 📗

in his home with his wife. No one could convince him she wasn’t his wife, despite not having had a commitment ceremony.

“You just happened to be at the right place at the right time? Did they wave you down?”

“No. It was worse than that, at least for us. We saw what that fool kid, Tommy, was trying to do, and we knew it was going to end badly. We just couldn’t get there fast enough to stop him. Adam laid on the horn as we approached, hoping that would get the person on the tractor to stop. But everyone ignored the damn horn, and then it was too late.”

James told her everything, sparing none of his emotions as he’d watched that tractor go over.

“Adam has far more experience with trauma, and I’m not ashamed to say he has a cooler head in the moment than I do.”

“I’m sure the way the two of you seem to be able to almost read each other’s minds helped today. I don’t have to have been there to know that Tommy’s survival depended as much on you as on Adam.”

“Adam and I make a good team,” James said. “You’re a part of that team now, too, Mrs. Jessop. We both really needed you tonight—and there you were.”

“That’s what I want, more than anything. To be a part of your team, and to be there for you when you need me, just as I love that you’re there for me when I need you.”

His arm around her, her head on his shoulder, James knew he held the strongest—and the best—woman he’d ever known. He wouldn’t utter a single complaint, going forward, about waiting until Thanksgiving for their commitment ceremony.

And he damn sure would be giving thanks for her, every day, for the rest of his life.

 

Chapter Seventeen

“The family is getting bigger,” Grandmother Chelsea said. “And is bound to keep doing so for some time. Samantha said something not long ago, and the six of us have been talking it over, ever since.” Pamela knew Grandmother meant herself, her husbands, and Mattie and her husbands. “It might just be time to choose a handful of the family to serve as the active Town Trust.”

“We thought, that way, the meetings could happen once a month,” Grandma Mattie said, “and would be easier to accommodate in size and scope. And since we often have meetings with only a few of us in attendance anyway, it would just be a matter of formalizing what we’re already doing.

“We’ll be giving it a distinct structure, and perhaps we’ll also outline rules and procedures, and such,” Grandpa Charlie said.

“It’s an idea that’s long overdue.” Grandpa Dalton looked around the table. “We could set a specific term—say, two years—and have some members from each generation serving together each term.”

“Basically, you’re outlining what will be, for all intents and purposes, our town council. For that reason, I think we should appoint someone to be the official head of the Town Trust,” Martin said. “Like a chief executive officer. It’s all well and good that, as the lawyer of record for the trust, I be the one to sign whatever documents we need signed. But I believe it would just be better form if I was one of two people signing on behalf of us all.”

“I think Grandmother Chelsea is the ideal person for that position,” Maria said.

“Thank you, daughter, but I don’t have as keen a business mind as Mattie does. I think she’d be the best candidate for the position.”

Pamela didn’t wonder that Grandmother Chelsea suggested Grandmother Mattie instead of one of her own two husbands, or even Mattie’s. Loving really is a verb. This was Grandmother Chelsea’s way of following in the footsteps of her mother and mother-in-law.

“We’ll set up a full meeting, then, and take a vote.” Martin Kendall made a note and then looked around the table.

This was the first time Pamela had ever attended a meeting of the Town Trust. She hadn’t known until that morning that, having married into the family, she was automatically a member and had a vote.

“Now that we’ve got that settled, I’d like to focus on the situation with regard to those two con men, Fred Thomas and Gary Morris.” Grandmother Chelsea’s voice was strong and clear and brooked no nonsense.

Pamela blinked because she hadn’t known the woman was going to bring that matter up. Until that moment, she’d been under the impression that the entire enterprise of investigating and then setting a trap for the men was a situation only the women of the family were actively involved in.

“I imagine your friends have been making progress baiting their trap?” Nick Kendall asked.

“Indeed, they have.” Chelsea Benedict Jessop-Kendall grinned, but it wasn’t her sweet smile.

Grandmother Chelsea looked about as formidable as Pamela had ever seen her. She might not think she has a head for business, but she certainly is a natural leader.

“But first, I need to bring some of you up to date with the most recent report sent to us by Mr. Watson.”

“There’s been a new report?” Maria asked.

“There has. You’re all aware of the deep background information Mr. Watson already sent to us on the pair. Both men, as boys, ended up in the same orphanage. That’s where they met.”

“The new information the detective forwarded,” Mattie said, “has given us a great deal of pause. Mr. Watson believes they began their current con—he referred to it as a grift—about twelve years ago. Immediately following their first success, they each donated a fair bit of money to what Mr. Watson believes are very personal causes. Mr. Thomas regularly sends funds to an outreach program for unwed mothers, and Mr. Morris donates to a group working with the victims of drug and alcohol abuse. Both programs are in New York City.”

“There is one more mitigating factor that Mr. Watson uncovered.” Grandmother Chelsea looked around the table, a woman who appeared to be arming herself for battle. “In every case, the two grifters targeted