Ten minutes later, someone came knocking on the door. Whomever it was needed to calm down. The pounding was hard enough to break down the front door.
“All right, all right,” he muttered, as he uncrossed his ankles and left the cozy sofa to answer.
Gracie stood on the front porch, her dark brown hair wet and dripping from the sleet and rain. She glared at him with such a fierce look it was a wonder she didn’t drill holes straight into his torso.
“Gracie,” he greeted cheerfully, as if he’d waited all night for the opportunity to see her. His smile was wide, despite her obvious displeasure.
“My name is Grace Ann,” she reminded him, irritation emanating from her in waves.
While it was tempting to rile her and ignore the comment, he could see she was already angry. Remembering Pete’s advice, he resisted the urge to aggravate her further. “Come in. You must be freezing standing out there.”
“No, thank you.”
It was apparent she hadn’t come to bring him a casserole or welcome him. “What can I do for you?” he asked, remaining pleasant. The truth was, he found her attitude amusing. She took life far too seriously. He wondered if she ever allowed herself to kick back and have a bit of fun. He remembered how in high school she wore her hair in one long braid down the middle of her back. That braid was more temptation than he could resist. He’d tugged it at every opportunity. Her outrage had amused him. That braid was long gone now, but those piercing blue eyes of hers hadn’t changed. One look could turn a man to stone.
He’d always thought she was pretty, or she could be if he was able to look past her holier-than-thou attitude. Unlike her brother, she was petite. Barely an inch or two above five feet. Pete was six feet if he was an inch. Same hair and eyes.
At one point in his senior year, despite her apparent dislike of him, Hank had been tempted to ask Gracie out on a date. He hadn’t because he knew she’d likely refuse. As Pete said, Gracie was as stubborn as a mule and as loyal as a dog. In Hank’s way of thinking, Gracie was so heavenly minded, she was no earthly good. Life was black and white for her, unlike Pete, whose real gift was understanding human nature and accepting others for exactly who they were. Pete was never one to cram faith down anyone’s throat. He loved people, and anyone who spent time with him, even a short while, recognized as much.
“You didn’t answer the phone,” Gracie accused him, as if he were on trial and standing before a judge.
“Well, no, I figured if it was an emergency, whomever it was would call back.” That was fudging the truth a bit. Honesty, however, wasn’t likely to gain Gracie’s approval. He hadn’t wanted to answer for fear he’d miss an important play. San Francisco had scored and this was proving to be a well-matched, highly anticipated game. Hank didn’t intend to miss a single minute.
“Did my brother give you the list?” she demanded, with a tone that would have made a drill sergeant proud.
“He did. Come inside, Gracie, before you catch a cold. I don’t bite.”
“I’d rather not. Getting back to this list.”
“Yes, I have it. Pete dutifully handed it to me.” He glanced over his shoulder at the television, longing to return.
“Did you read it?”
Gracie had missed her calling. She’d make a great prosecutor. “Well, if you must know—”
“Obviously you didn’t,” she said, cutting him off.
“To be fair, there was a lot of instruction I had to give Pete before he took over as bartender. He didn’t have a chance to review his list with me.”
“And you didn’t take the time to read it yourself.”
The crowd in Candlestick Park in San Francisco went wild. Hank looked longingly over his shoulder and saw the score. The 49ers had made the field goal, and he’d missed the play. It was hard to hold back a groan.
“Whatever it is, can it wait until tomorrow?” he asked.
“No.” For emphasis she stomped her foot. “You were due to collect Hortense more than an hour ago.”
What in the name of all that was holy was she talking about? “Who’s Hortense?”
“Farmer Martin’s mule.”
Hank scratched the side of his head. “Can you tell me why I would venture out in the sleet and rain to collect a mule?”
“If you read the list…”
“Which I didn’t, so you’ll need to fill me in.”
Gracie sighed and lowered her head to stare at her feet as though she was at the end of her patience. “I knew this wasn’t going to work. You’re not to be trusted. I told Peter this was a huge mistake, but would he listen to me? Oh no. He seems to think—”
“Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.” Hank cut her off before she could continue with this tirade, which she seemed keen on doing.
“We need Hortense for the live Nativity on Christmas Eve.”
“This is Monday and Christmas Eve is Saturday,” he felt obliged to remind her.
“There are extenuating circumstances; you need to collect Hortense tonight. It’s all explained on the list.”
“Okay. Tell me where I need to go to claim this mule and I’ll take care of it first thing in the morning.” He started to close the door, when Gracie stuck her foot in the way, preventing him from escaping.
Gracie stood glaring at him with her hands akimbo. “It has to be done tonight.”
“Tonight?” He inwardly groaned. “Why?”
“Because,” she said, as if making these explanations was trying her patience, “the Carney family leaves tomorrow morning.”
“Wait,” he said, and held up his hand. “I thought you said Farmer Martin has Hortense?”
“He does. But Mr. Martin doesn’t have a horse trailer, so you’ll need to collect that from the Carney family, get Hortense and bring her to town, and then return the horse trailer to the Carneys.”
Hank’s head went spinning. “I have no idea where these people live, Gracie.”
“Don’t call me Gracie.”
“Sorry.” He wasn’t, but admitting as much would do him no favors. So much for enjoying Monday Night Football. He should have known this was too good to be true. The fates were against him.
“You’ll do it?” She sounded shocked, as if she’d expected an argument.
“Is there anyone else who can?”
“Not this late.”
As hard as it was to admit, Gracie was right. “I should have paid more attention to this list.”