Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(29)

He put a spoon and napkin on the bar for her. “That’s how I trapped Mel—the coffee. I’m only particular about a few things, and coffee is one of them. She was on her way out of town. She couldn’t wait to make this little one-horse town a memory, but she wasn’t leaving without a cup of coffee.”

She grinned at him. “And she stayed for the coffee?” she asked, dressing her cup.

“No, kiddo. The coffee distracted her just long enough for me to make my move. In the end, she stayed for me.” He smiled right back at her.

Becca looked around and realized she was the only one in the bar. “Where is everyone?”

“It’s after nine-thirty, Becca. My breakfast crowd is early. Plus, it’s the day before Thanksgiving—people are busy. I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m starving! You have no idea what an ordeal a hair wash, bath, dressing and walking a couple of blocks can be.”

“Preacher was making omelets earlier. He always has bacon and sausage. What would you like?”

“I usually just have cereal, but I think I need some protein. Would you ask him to just break up a little sausage in the eggs and make a small omelet? Maybe a tiny bit of cheese?”

“I’ll ask, but I warn you, it’s very hard for Preacher to think small. Stay tuned,” he said, heading for the kitchen.

It was just a few minutes when Paige carried a plate with an omelet on it out to the bar. Jack was right, Preacher wasn’t good at making anything small. “Wow,” she said when Paige put it in front of her.

“It’s wonderful, you’ll see. I have to make a run into Fortuna this morning. Can I pick up anything for you?”

“Oh, I hate to ask favors…” Becca said, taking a second bite of a fantastic omelet.

Paige leaned on the bar, facing her. “What do you need?”

“Well, if you’re anywhere near a store that sells sewing supplies, I need a seam ripper.” She lifted the leg with the cast and opened jeans. “I used a sharp knife this morning, but I can see the advantage of having the right equipment. Before I slice off a finger or something.”

“I’ll not only be near that kind of store, I’ll be in one. I’m going to buy construction paper, glue and craft stuff. The kids all get out a little early today because of the holiday and we’re going to make some table favors for Thanksgiving dinner. The bar is usually quiet on Wednesday night before the holiday, so Jack and John can handle dinner alone. There are a bunch of town kids who want to make stuff for their tables.”

Becca’s fork paused in midair. “Don’t they do crafts at school to bring home?”

“Not so much,” Paige said. “They do have Thanks giving stories, an assembly program and they make stuff for the school bulletin boards, but nothing for our tables. And we’ll have a nice, big crowd here tomorrow. Of course, other people have big family gatherings, too, so we’re meeting in the church basement. It’s fun for the kids.”

Becca put down her fork. “Can I come?”

“Shopping?”

“Yes, that. But can I come do crafts? Paige, that’s my specialty, sort of.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh, man, I wish I had my stuff! You just don’t know how much stuff I have—patterns and instruction books and stencils, all kinds of supplies. You know, money’s been so tight, lots of teachers just go buy stuff for the class. I used to hit up my surfing team for donations for supplies and once word spread, I had everyone from my mom’s ladies golf group to the neighborhood firefighters buying stuff for my kids. When the elementary school where I was teaching shut down, they let me keep all the things I had donated or bought myself.”

Paige was frowning. “Didn’t I understand that you’re not supposed to travel? It’s a good half hour, one way, to Fortuna.”

“Do you have a console between the front seats in your car? I can sit in the back and elevate my leg by putting it on the console.”

“You’d be sitting beside Dana, the road queen. She loves to go anywhere. She puts her jacket on every morning and says ‘We go now?’”

Becca laughed. “Even better. Love a road queen!” She shoveled some of her omelet into her mouth. “When are you going?”

Paige shook her head. “Finish your breakfast. The kids won’t be home till around two. We have lots of time.”

“Oh, this will be great,” she said. Finally, she thought—something she was actually good at!

Although Paige argued with her, Becca couldn’t help herself. She had great ideas for Thanksgiving projects for kids. She bought terra-cotta flowerpots, black felt and artificial mums for pilgrim-hat centerpieces; she found stencils for construction-paper turkeys; she knew how to make cornucopias out of paper plates and string, and decorative gourds from crumpled-up colored tissue paper. Then there was the standard turkey out of a hand-print. Actually, that was the tip of the iceberg—she had a million craft ideas. But she didn’t want to overwhelm the kids. She was absolutely in her element.

“I see you’ve mastered pushing around a shopping cart while on crutches,” Paige said. “What a woman!”

There were a couple of other women helping out with the crafts—Denny’s landlady, Jo Fitch, and the pastor’s wife, Ellie Kincaid. By two-fifteen, she was meeting the children in the basement of the church. Ellie’s kids, Danielle and Trevor, were nine and five. Danielle’s little friend, Megan Thickson, was only eight and hung pretty close to her; she seemed awful shy. Megan’s little brother, Jeremy, played with Trevor.