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

wealthy individuals and never took everything those targets had.” Then she looked at Pamela. “Sadly, child, your father was the one exception to that pattern.”

Pamela tilted her head slightly as she considered this new information. “I think it was the timing. My dad hadn’t yet got his finances in order after the medical expenses incurred by mother’s illness. Had they not been running that scam exactly when they were, the money they got from Dad wouldn’t have wiped out his finances.”

“I was hoping you’d pick up on that fact. That’s what we thought, too.” Grandmother Mattie said.

“Mother…you’re not thinking of letting those two con men off the hook, are you?” The look of horror on Martin’s face was mirrored on Nick’s and, in fact, on the faces of most of the younger men in attendance. “Do I have to remind you that they are con men? They’ve broken the law and deserve to go to jail!”

Grandmother Chelsea appeared to be considering her two sons for a moment. Pamela flicked a glance at the grandfathers. All four of them were sitting back in their chairs, their attention focused on Martin and Nick Kendall. Their smirks told Pamela they were anticipating Chelsea’s response.

“If you look at everything only in terms of black and white, my darlings, you’ll end up being completely color blind. And if you don’t believe in redemption and second chances, well, then, it’s going to be an uncomfortable future for the both of you. Your world will become so narrow you won’t even have room to turn around.”

When she kept her sharp gaze on them, and even raised one eyebrow, they both slowly nodded.

“You’ve made a couple of good points, Mother,” Nick said. “What are you thinking of doing, then?”

Pamela didn’t miss the irony of that question, and by the looks on Adam’s and James’s faces, neither did they.

“That’s the interesting part. I’ve spent a fair bit of time over the last week talking with Jan.” Grandmother Chelsea looked around the table. “Janice Michaelson is the granddaughter of one of my oldest friends, Franny Williams Smith. Just forty, Jan was widowed two years ago when her husband of twenty years was killed in a car accident. Jan was never able to have children, and after the accident, her sister Millicent moved in with her, after having devoted herself to their ailing mother, who died just before Jan’s dear husband.

“Both women are quite wealthy in their own right, and Jan was also left very well provided for by her husband. Millie is a teacher, never married, and Jan has devoted herself to working with children’s charities. When I called Jan a month ago, she and Millie were quite willing to help us set a trap for those two grifters. Mr. Watson has an associate in Durant who’s been keeping an eye on the women because, of course, we didn’t want anything to happen to them.” Grandmother Chelsea sighed.

“Is there a problem, then, Mother?” Warren Jessop asked.

“You could say that. It appears that our very clever plan has had unintended consequences. You see, Jan and Millie have very recently both fallen in love—with those two grifters.”

* * * *

Fred Thomas and Gary Morris had found two absolutely perfect marks. Two women with hearts as generous as their bank accounts. Janice Gates Michaelson was a widow—young for all of that, just forty—who, after the sudden death of her husband two years before, had been dedicating herself to working with two charity groups. One was to the benefit of unwed mothers, and the other was a children’s charity that she volunteered for alongside her sister Millicent Gates.

Millicent, a spinster, was a school teacher and had moved in with her sister Jan in the wake of Jan’s personal tragedy.

Yes, these two women made perfect marks for him and his partner. There was just one not so small problem.

Fred had fallen for Janice, and Gary was smitten with Millie.

This was the second time they’d brought the women to the Ostrich Feather Emporium for supper. Oddly named it might be, but Fred Thomas thought it was the best restaurant, ever. The lighting was just right, and the atmosphere…the atmosphere was…perfect. Jan was perfect, and he didn’t know if he could ever get tired of looking at her. He didn’t want to ever get tired of looking at her.

Fred suddenly recalled a book he’d been made to read in school, A Tale of Two Cities. He now understood how one moment really could be both the best of times and the worst of times.

Gary was telling Jan and Millie a silly joke. His best friend’s voice sounded softer, more emotional than Fred had ever heard it. They’d talked, the two of them, about this insurmountable problem facing them, so he knew that Gary was on the same page he was on—they both wanted something that was impossible.

Two weeks ago, they thought to give it just a bit more time, figuring that whatever it was that had come over them with regard to these two women would pass, like the three-day flu.

But nothing had passed, and in fact, Fred knew with absolute certainty that he was totally, completely, and irrevocably in love with Janice Gates Michaelson.

The women laughed at Gary’s joke, not a phony laugh but a genuine, truly amused kind of laugh. Fred looked at Gary and knew the truth.

There was just no way on God’s green earth they could ever con these two women. At this point, he was pretty certain their conning days were behind them.

The waiter took away their dinner plates and handed each of them the dessert menu. Both women enjoyed their sweets. Fred liked that about them. Janice wasn’t a stick woman, by any means. He’d seen too many women trying to be like that ’60s model, Twiggy.

Whenever he saw a woman with that sickly-thin build, he always thought of drug addicts. His mother, near the end of her hard, way-too-short life, had become so thin her clothes had hung from her.

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