A Randall Thanksgiving. Judy Christenberry

know what she wanted most—for him to accept the invitation or to reject it.

      “Thanks, Russ, but I’m on duty. Mike frowns on me spending all my time in the café.” He added a smile, which was more than he’d done for her.

      “I understand. But let me introduce my long lost cousin Melissa, Griff and Camille’s daughter. She’s been living in France.”

      Without looking her way, he replied, “I met her last night. She seems to be adjusting well.”

      Melissa stomped her foot. “Quit talking about me like I’m not here!”

      He finally looked at her. “Certainly, Miss Randall.” Then he quickly averted his gaze. “See you ’round, Russ, Tori.” And he walked away.

      Tori and Russ stared after him, and looked at Melissa.

      “What?” she demanded, feeling defensive.

      Russ said, “Let’s get our table. Then we’ll talk.”

      Once they were seated and had gotten their coffee and given their orders, Russ turned to Melissa. “You’ve only been here a few days. How have you managed to upset one of the nicest guys in town?”

      “Are you referring to Harry Gowan?” Melissa demanded. “Because he hasn’t been so nice to me!”

      Russ glanced at Tori. “What’s going on? Are they already involved?”

      “No!” Melissa nearly spat out her coffee.

      Tori put a calming hand on her arm, then explained, “It’s another case of a father matchmaking for his daughter, a Randall pastime, you know. And apparently, though I find it hard to believe, Harry wasn’t interested.”

      Russ shifted his gaze to Melissa. “I’m surprised. I figured guys would be lined up for the opportunity to get close to you, Melissa.”

      “Thank you, but apparently I only appeal to men with loose morals,” she said glumly.

      “Who in particular?” Russ asked sternly.

      She rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Harry.”

      “Wait a minute. I’m getting confused. Where does Harry come in?”

      Melissa sighed. “Harry warned me last night not to go outside with Dwight Barnes. And Dad said I should bake him some cookies to say thank you. So I did, because I wanted to please Dad. But Harry wouldn’t even take the cookies.”

      “What did you do with them?” Russ asked.

      “I hit him in the stomach with the box and walked out. I don’t know what he did with them after that. Probably threw them in the trash!”

      “Oh, my,” Tori said softly.

      “It wasn’t my fault. I did what Dad asked.”

      “I guess you did. But just a word of warning,” Russ said with a smile. “Harry is a favorite with the family and he’s frequently invited to Sunday dinner.”

      Moaning, Melissa buried her face in her hands. “I’m doomed. Dad’s going to be upset with me and that will upset Mom and—and—”

      “I know,” Tori said, patting Melissa’s shoulder. “No one ever wants to upset Camille. She’s so sweet.”

      Melissa nodded. “She’s the one who convinced Dad to let me go to France. It wasn’t easy. She even stopped speaking to him for several days.”

      “I didn’t know that,” Tori said. “I wondered why Uncle Griff let you go at such a young age. But it was only supposed to be for a semester, wasn’t it?”

      “Yes, until one of the greatest jewelry designers in the world looked at my work and offered me a chance to learn from him. It was an incredible offer I had to accept.”

      “Did you make those?” Tori asked, reaching out to touch the twisted gold earrings Melissa was wearing.

      “Yes. Monsieur Jalbert is letting me design some more casual jewelry, different from the expensive, heavy pieces that you’d only wear at balls or galas.”

      “Of which we have none,” Russ commented. “But I have heard of the man. My wife used to buy that kind of jewelry, before she moved to Rawhide.”

      “Did you bring any other pieces with you?” Tori asked, still staring at the earrings. “I don’t know how they’re priced, but Sarah and Jennifer might be interested in carrying them in their store.”

      Sisters Sarah and Jennifer, both married to Randall cousins, owned and operated Rawhide’s popular general store. “They’d have to work out a deal with Monsieur Jalbert,” Melissa said. “What I design is his right now.”

      “Too bad. If you got my name for the Christmas gift exchange, I sure wouldn’t mind taking a pair off your hands.” She grinned at her cousin.

      “Have we drawn names already this year?”

      Russ replied, “Yeah. Your mom drew one for you. And I can tell that all the women are going to be hoping you got their name.”

      “I might make something for a Christmas present. I am already itching to get back to work.”

      “But could you work here?” Tori asked.

      Melissa answered carefully. “I can make a few gifts. But as long as I’m under contract with Monsieur Jalbert, I can’t produce any work to sell.”

      “And when does your contract expire?” she asked.

      “January first,” Melissa confessed. “But don’t mention that to Mom or Dad. They’ll think it might mean I could stay here, but—” She cut off that thought. “We’ll renew my contract as soon as I return.”

      Tori was undaunted. She continued to probe. “Why didn’t you renew before you came home?”

      Melissa looked down at her coffee, avoiding both Russ and Tori’s gaze as she said, “There wasn’t time. I decided to come home at the last minute.”

      Before anyone could comment, they were distracted by two men yelling at each other on the other side of the café. Russ, she noticed, kept a particularly watchful eye on them. The argument got heated and the men stood up, going face-to-face. When one of them picked up a knife, Russ wasted no time. He took out his cell phone and dialed 911.

      “There’s a fight at the café,” he said into his phone. “One of the men has a knife,”

      “Surely you don’t think they’re really going to fight?” Melissa asked.

      “What, they don’t have fights in France?” Russ asked.

      Melissa didn’t respond.

      “Better safe than sorry,” he stated. Almost as he spoke, one of the men threw the first punch, and in no time they were knocking chairs over as they fought. The knife fell to the floor, but not before it drew blood from its victim.

      As the diners looked on, aghast, the café door opened to admit Harry Gowan.

      The badge on his winter coat announced that he was a member of the Sheriff’s Office. His actions left no doubt, either. He waded in and stopped the fighting, though he had to take one man to the ground to get him to halt. He called the other man by name and warned him to back off. When he had them both subdued, he called the hospital to alert them that a patient was on the way.

      Russ stood. “I’d better help out.” He crossed the room, taking a bunch of napkins to press on the wound of the combatant standing. Harry welcomed his assistance, asking him to escort the man to the hospital, just down the street, while he took the other guy, now in cuffs, to jail.

      In a couple of minutes, the normal buzz of conversation was restored, as if nothing had happened.

      “Well, that was interesting!” Melissa said in amazement.

      “Now