“Yes, he was in the house when I got here. He went home but he came back and invited me to the O’Donnells’ for Sunday dinner. He said they’re going to have music,” Liz said.
“You’ll enjoy that. That Raylen and Dewar both are good men, Lizelle. Take your fiddle and enjoy the day.”
“Are you settling in out there?” Liz asked. It hadn’t occurred to her in the flurry of excitement that her uncle might not be satisfied in Claude, out in the Texas panhandle, and would want to come back to Ringgold. What if she put down roots, and then her uncle wanted his place back?
“Yes, I am,” Haskell answered. “Poppa and I are getting along pretty good. I’m still unpacking my books, but we’re getting a few boxes done each day. Poppa borrowed some yesterday. I may make a reader of him yet. He’s anxious for Marva Jo and Tressa to get here for the winter though. He loves helping revamp the carnie wagons every winter.”
“I’m glad you are there, Uncle Haskell. He gets lonely. I promised Hooter and Blister some quality family time so I’m going to hang up and visit with them,” Liz said.
“I’ll be looking for reports at least once a week,” Haskell said.
“You got ’em. Good night,” Liz said.
Did that mean she could ask questions about Raylen once a week as well as give her uncle a report?
Chapter 2
Liz brought up a Martina McBride Christmas album on her phone and listened to the music as she drove down her lane toward the highway. The first song was an old tune that she and her mother and aunt listened to when they were in their winter quarters, “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” The lyrics said that the holiday would find her where love light gleamed. Liz sang along with her and hoped that she would find love—maybe not this year, that would be too soon.
Maybe next Christmas Eve. It would take a miracle to have it this year, she thought.
She and her mother liked country music. Tressa hated it. Liz wondered where her Uncle Haskell stood on the issue. Somehow, she couldn’t see her overall-clad uncle listening to the Irish melodies that Tressa loved. She’d bet her fiddle that he was a Willie Nelson and George Jones man.
Another three Christmas songs had played through when she made a left onto the O’Donnell property. She gasped when she saw the big two-story white house and all the vehicles parked out front. She’d expected to find something more like her house, a small ranch-style place with a dog on the porch.
Oh, stop it, she thought to herself. You’ve been in real houses before. You’re acting worse than you did on your first date nine years ago. And this isn’t even a date. Raylen said he didn’t have a wife. He didn’t say anything about a girlfriend. He’s probably just being a good neighbor.
Folding chairs under a shade tree in the backyard had a guitar, banjo, and several other stringed instruments sitting on them. She wondered if she should add her fiddle to the mix but decided to leave it in the truck. By the time dinner was over, she might have had enough normalcy and be ready to get the hell out of Dodge.
The wind had died down from the night before, but a breeze whipped her long, flowing skirt around her ankles when she got out of the truck. She pulled her bright orange crocheted shawl around her shoulders and made her way to the door. Her finger headed for the doorbell, but it didn’t reach its mark. The big wooden door swung open and Raylen stood a foot from her. How in the devil did he do that? Did he have a sixth sense that knew when she was about to ring a doorbell or unlock a door?
The slight breeze that fluttered the fall leaves on the trees wafted the scent of his cologne to her while she took in his black Wranglers, a black pearl-snap shirt, and shiny black boots.
Raylen stood to one side and motioned for her to come inside. “I heard a car door slam and hoped it was you. We’re just about ready for Grandpa to say grace and then we can eat. I was afraid you wouldn’t take me serious about the invitation, but I’m glad you are here.”
“Hey, talk later. I’m starving,” a dark-haired woman yelled as she made her way down the staircase.
“That’s Gemma, my youngest sister,” Raylen explained. “Let’s have grace and then I’ll introduce you to the family.” He put his hand on her shoulder and steered her through the living room and into the kitchen.
The living room was a huge square with lots of tall windows letting in natural light. A brown leather sofa with deep cushions and wide arms was on either end of the big square room, with rocking chairs and recliners thrown in here and there with tables and lamps beside them. It was a room that invited family and friends to come right in and make themselves at home.
“We’re all here, so Grandpa, would you say grace?” a man who looked a lot like Raylen asked.
Everyone bowed their heads.
Liz did the same and tried to listen to the words of thanks his grandfather delivered in a deep Texas drawl.
“Amen,” Grandpa said.
Gemma extended her hand. “You must be our new neighbor. We’ll miss Haskell. He’s been a wonderful friend to our family.”
Liz reached out and Gemma’s shake was firm. She had black hair cut in short layers that framed an oval face, deep green eyes beneath arched dark eyebrows, heavy lashes, and a wide mouth. Her red three-inch high heels on a one-inch platform made her seem taller than she was.
With a slight pressure on her back, Raylen turned her around to face more family. “This is my father, Cash O’Donnell, and my mother, Maddie. And right beside them is my grandma Frannie and grandpa Tilman O’Donnell.”
Frannie stepped forward first. “You can call me Grandma like all the other friends of this wild bunch does. I wanted to be called Granny, but Tilman told me that the grandbabies would call me Granny Frannie, and I didn’t like that so well. Welcome to our area of the world. We’re glad to have you for a neighbor.”
“Thank you, Grandma.” Liz smiled.
She shook hands with both grandparents and then Cash who was taller than Raylen. They shared the same hair color, but Raylen’s eyes were clearer blue and his face squarer cut with a stronger chin.
Maddie bypassed her hand and hugged her. “Welcome to Ringgold, honey. We’re here if you need anything. Come over if you get bored. Holler if you want company.”
“Thank you,” Liz said softly. Would the invitation still stand when they found out that she came from a long line of carnies? Or had Uncle Haskell told them about his two sisters’ lifestyles?
Maddie had a few crow’s-feet around her bright blue eyes, but there wasn’t a single gray strand in her chestnut-colored hair. She was taller than her daughters and slim as a model. Any twenty-year-old woman would have been delighted to look that good in snug jeans.