Название | Marrying O'malley |
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Автор произведения | Elizabeth August |
Жанр | Современные любовные романы |
Серия | |
Издательство | Современные любовные романы |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn |
Still embarrassed that Wolf had found her at his grave site, she would have preferred to remain in the background. But that would be cowardly, and pride refused to allow her to exhibit cowardliness in front of him. As Henry Jarrot returned to his table, she approached Bradford’s table. “Would you like something to drink while you decide what you want for breakfast?” she addressed Wolf in cool, efficient tones.
He looked up at her. Sarita Lopez had never behaved like he’d expected her to. “Apparently you are very good at keeping secrets,” he said in hushed tones.
“I figured that when you wanted people to know you were back, you’d let them know yourself,” she replied.
He nodded his approval. “I appreciate that.”
Glad she’d followed her instincts, Sarita noted that this had to be the first time the two of them hadn’t been arguing by the second sentence.
“You knew he was in town?” Bradford asked in the same lowered voice.
“I wanted to pay my respects to my mother,” Wolf elaborated. “We bumped into each other at the cemetery. She thought she was seeing a ghost.”
Grateful he hadn’t mentioned that she was at his grave site, she caught the look in his eye that told her he considered them even. And that suited her just fine. Returning her attention to her reason for even approaching him, she repeated, “Would you like something to drink while you look over the menu or are you ready to order?”
He glanced down at the menu. “Coffee to drink and I’ll have the Cowhand’s Special. Scramble the eggs,” he replied.
“Coming up.” Walking away, she saw the rest of the customers casting covert glances in Wolf’s direction. And unlike normal mornings when conversations flooded the place, voices overlapping each other until they were a muddle of noise, this morning conversations were being held softly, confining what was said to the occupants of the individual tables.
As she laid the paper containing Wolf’s order on the high, metal counter of the window between the kitchen and the serving area, Jules motioned her inside. Knowing she was going to have to talk to him sooner or later, she entered the kitchen.
“Who is this Wolf O’Malley?” he demanded in lowered tones, trying to keep an eye on his cooking food while watching for any further activity among the customers. “This is the first real excitement I’ve seen in this town since Norma Alexander caught Rupert Gordon peeping in her bedroom window.”
“He’s Frank O’Malley’s eldest son. Everyone thought he was dead,” Sarita replied. “Now I’ve really got to get back to my customers.”
But before she could make her escape, Gladys entered. “Isn’t this the most exciting thing? Ms. High and Mighty Katherine O’Malley is not going to like it.”
Jules looked confused. “I’d think she would be glad her son was alive.”
“He’s not her son,” Gladys explained. “He’s her stepson. His mother was Willow Bluefeather.”
“An Indian?” Jules asked, his interest increasing.
Gladys nodded. “Full-blooded Cherokee. I don’t remember her well. I do remember that she was very pretty.”
Jules peered harder out the window. “Yes, he does look as if he has Native American blood in him.”
“Willow Bluefeather O’Malley was beautiful and one of the sweetest women in the world,” Sarita said, recalling the kindness Willow had always exhibited toward everyone. “She died of some complication associated with the flu when Wolf was ten. His father married Katherine when he was twelve. He and his stepmother never got along.”
A knowing look came over Gladys’s face. “My Roy has always said Katherine wanted Wolf out of the picture so her own children could inherit everything.” In response to Jules’s raised eyebrow, she added, “Preston O’Malley was her son from a previous marriage. She made sure Frank adopted him so he would be sure to share in the inheritance. Claudia is Frank and Katherine’s child, but I think she only had her to satisfy Frank. Anyone can see that Katherine is partial to Preston. She thinks the sun rises and sets on him.”
Jules nodded his head. “She’s definitely spoiled him.”
Sarita had only been half listening. She’d been recalling how badly Wolf had taken his mother’s passing. In spite of the fact that she and he had never gotten along, she’d felt obliged to seek him out and offer her condolences. He’d growled at her, and she’d never approached him again. And she didn’t like gossiping about him now. She nodded toward the bacon that was fast becoming too crisp to serve. “We’d better get back to our customers, and you’d better get back to your cooking,” she told Jules.
Letting out a cry of dismay, he quickly returned his attention to his stove.
“Looks like life is going to get real interesting around here for a while,” Gladys noted as she and Sarita left the kitchen.
“I suppose interesting is as good a word as any,” Sarita muttered back, doubting Katherine O’Malley would use that same adjective.
Chapter Two
Sarita looked at the clock. It was nearly three. The normal hours for the diner were from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Constantly reminding people that he was semiretired, Jules reserved the rest of the day to work on recipes for the cookbook he was creating or pursuing his second passion...golf. Normally the last of their customers cleared out by two-thirty. Today the place was still half-full. And Jules wasn’t helping to ease the customers out, either. He’d closed down the kitchen and come out front, but instead of subtly mentioning that the afternoon was getting late, he was pouring coffee and entering into the various conversations about Wolf’s return from the grave.
The general consensus was that Katherine would be furious and she was a dangerous woman when riled.
“But Wolf O’Malley can be just as dangerous. Even more so,” Vivian Kale said, loud enough for all to hear.
Several others nodded knowingly.
Sarita knew what they were thinking. Her sense of fairness refused to let her remain silent. “There was never any proof those rumors were true.”
“What rumors?” Jules demanded.
“Some people think he pushed Katherine down the stairs when he was fifteen. Broke her arm,” one of the men said.
“The story she told was that she fell on her own,” Sarita reminded them all.
“Yeah, but her telling that tale never rang true to my ears. Could be she said it to keep peace in the family and the police out of it,” Vivian argued. “And, as I recall, Frank shipped Wolf off to that military academy right afterward.”
“Because his highfalutin stepmom had been trying to get rid of Wolf all along. Wouldn’t put it past her to have faked that fall down the stairs.” Charlie entered the fray. He didn’t usually come back for lunch, but Sarita had noted that several who only came for breakfast had come a second time today. And she was grateful Charlie was there. It was only right that Wolf should have at least one customer who would stick up for him.
“Her broken arm was no fake,” Vivian retorted.
“Could be she didn’t plan on breaking it,” Charlie rebutted.
“You’ve never liked Katherine O‘Malley,” Vivian fumed. "You’d take Wolf’s side if you’d seen him doing the deed."
Charlie glared