Christmas Bells (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Read online

  Connie had been on his mind lately. After all, she was one of the prettiest women in Omaha. She was, more importantly, kind, smart, and a great parent. Not to mention ambitious. Not many women owned businesses in this day and age. He admired her for those qualities. The young widow only stopped wearing black a year ago. Was she ready to socialize again? He drummed his fingers on the oak desk. Perhaps he’d take the next step. An invitation to church or a walk along the Missouri River. Either would be proper, and Andrew could come along as well. Certainly, the idea merited additional thought.

  As Omaha’s only physician, he cared for anyone and everyone in the town and within a thirty-mile radius. Lately, he’d been thinking about doing something for himself. It was time to hire a full-time nurse or find another doctor to share the burdens so he could settle down. Well-meaning friends kept urging him to do some courting, marry a nice girl, start a family. Maybe the right girl for him wasn’t a girl at all, but a woman with soft brown eyes, chestnut hair, and a laugh that drew everyone in, even lonely doctors. He’d been married to his work for far too long. A living, breathing wife sounded pretty good, if he could find another doctor to share his practice.

  James pulled on his heavy overcoat and extinguished the whale oil lamp. Stepping through the back door, he was careful to lock it behind him. Dark shadows filled the alley. The scratchy notes of a tinny piano echoed from a saloon around the corner. A few long strides brought him to a wrought iron gate at his own back yard. A single lantern glowed from the rear porch. His part-time housekeeper, Mrs. Cullen, must have left it for him. He shook his head. She was a pip, always fussing, cooking huge meals, and trying to fatten him up.

  Inside the kitchen, a napkin-covered plate sat on the table. He lifted the gingham corner and stared at the roast beef with congealed gravy. Five hours ago, the hearty dinner would have been tasty. He dropped the cloth and headed for the hall. No dinner tonight. Tomorrow, he’d eat a hearty breakfast at Rose’s Café. He’d check on Andrew and see Connie’s pretty face. He couldn’t think of a better way to start a new day.

  * * *

  Shortly after eight a.m., James strolled into the bustling restaurant. A new server led him to an empty table, a bracelet of small bells encircling her wrist. The effect was pleasant, a tiny, tinkling sound.

  “Mornin’ doctor.” She pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “The usual? Pancakes and bacon?”

  He searched the breakfast crowd. “Yes. That will be fine. Is Connie here?” She shook her head and scribbled on the pad.

  His heart dropped a notch. He’d really been looking forward to Connie’s bright smile. Her pretty face and good humor—in fact, the entire congenial atmosphere of her café—seemed to set the day for him. He was welcome there. That was one of the reasons he frequented the establishment. His housekeeper could make him a decent breakfast, but something about the café and Connie’s presence quickened his pulse and supplied the energy he needed to get through his unrelenting schedule. Long days filled with sick and hurting people stretched out in front of him. Where was the joy, the fun in life? Why was he working so hard?

  “No, she’s still upstairs with her little boy. She’d like you to come up when you’ve finished your meal. Oh, and it’s on the house today. She insists.”

  He studied the server’s kindly face. “That’s very nice but not necessary. You’re new here. How did you know what I wanted?”

  The sturdy, middle-aged woman smiled. “I just know. Name’s Diana, and I’ll be back with your hot tea, double strength.” She turned with considerable grace despite her stocky build.

  James stared at her back. How did she know he’d be coming in today, and his penchant for strong tea, when nearly every other soul in this town drank coffee? Five minutes later, he was digging into a double stack of pancakes and extra crispy bacon and washing it down with the best Chinese Oolong he’d ever had. Diana brought over another pot of tea as he finished the first, and he shook his head. “That was terrific, miss, but please, I couldn’t take another sip.”

  She smiled and removed the dirty dishes. “If there’s nothing else, I believe Mrs. Simonson would welcome you checking on the boy now. Mustn’t keep her waiting.”

  He wiped his hands with the checkered napkin and reached for his black doctor’s bag. “On my way.” His heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Connie. Stop. There’s no fool like an old fool. You’re looking in on a patient. That’s all.

  Connie and Andrew lived in the rooms above the café, so James slipped through the kitchen and climbed the narrow steps. He smoothed back a wayward curl and adjusted his collar before knocking on the door at the top of the staircase. When Connie opened it, he stifled a gasp.

  She wore a long floral wrapper, and her hair hung loosely to her waist.

  “Good morning, Doctor. Please excuse my appearance, but I was just about to get dressed. Seems I slept longer than usual. Come in, please.”

  James stepped in and scanned the room. The parlor was done in shades of pink and maroon wallpaper. Overstuffed chairs were pulled up in front of a Franklin stove, and a nearby basket held a sewing project. A walnut highboy, glowing in the early light, showcased a collection of teapots and vases. This was definitely a woman’s home. After her husband Percy’s death, she’d sold the family home and retreated with her son into her former quarters.

  “You must have needed it. The sleep, I mean. How’s Andrew this morning? Did he have a good night?” James did his best not to stare at the lovely woman in her nightclothes.

  “Still sleeping. He fretted until after midnight. Said he couldn’t get comfortable. I sat by his bed until he finally drifted off.” She stepped into a small room and bent over the narrow bed. Andrew slept on his back, the injured arm propped up on a pillow.

  James leaned down and laid his palm on Andy’s forehead. “No fever, good. Overall color good.” He squatted by the boy’s wrist and gently unwrapped the bandage. The child didn’t stir. “Looks better. See? The swelling has started to go down.”

  He glanced over at the young mother. Her eyes shimmered. One tear trickled down her cheek, and without thinking, he stood and wiped it away with his thumb. Connie’s eyes widened, and she stepped back. Her hand brushed the spot he’d touched.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be forward,” he sputtered. “I...it was instinctual.”

  “Think nothing of it, Dr. Connor.” She walked to the far side of the bed, as far away as she could get in the small room. He swallowed a sigh. He hadn’t meant to touch her but to offer comfort. Fatigue, that’s all this is, fatigue.

  “So he’s improving?” she asked as she smoothed the covers around the boy.

  “Yes, he is.”

  “What are your instructions?” She adjusted the blankets again.

  “Be sure to put his sling on him today and for the next several weeks. At least three, I’d say. Make him keep it on. Bring him to my office in seven days, and we’ll do a follow-up. Meanwhile, make sure he gets plenty of milk and your good cooking. He’ll need that nourishment to heal. And please, no tree climbing for a while, a long while. Now if you’ll excuse me, I can find my way out.” He descended the stairs swiftly and sped through the dining room. Diana stood at the counter, smiling at him, a twinkle in her eyes.

  * * *

  Several patients kept James busy all morning. When the waiting room was finally empty, he turned to his part-time nurse, Arianna Reynolds. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but every time I think we’ve got a minute, the bell over the door rings with another patient.”

  Arianna turned from the bandages she’d been rolling and glanced at the man she’d assisted for the past four years. “Is something wrong? Have I made a mistake?”

  She came in three mornings a week to assist in bookkeeping, nursing, and minor surgeries. Her main priority was raising her young son, Quincy, and supporting her husband, Sheriff Jason Reynolds.

  “I’ve been thinking. The way this town is growing, I believe it could support
another doctor. What do you say we place an advertisement and see if we can find someone to join the practice? I’ll write my professors from medical school. Maybe they could recommend someone.”

  “I think that’s a terrific idea. You’ve been putting in so many hours here at the clinic and making house calls. It’s about time you have some kind of a personal life.” Her cheeks flushed as she grabbed a long strip of cloth and rolled it into a bandage. “Excuse me, Doc. It’s none of my business. It’s just…well, a fine man like yourself should have a nice wife, a couple of children. They can add so much happiness. I don’t know where I’d be without my son and husband. Lonely, I suppose.” She tucked the bandage into a basket and grabbed another strip. “There, I’ve done it again. Stuck my foot in my mouth.”

  James’ laugh came out sounding strained, as if he didn’t do it often enough. “It’s fine, Mrs. Reynolds. I’ve been thinking along the same lines myself. In fact, I have someone in mind. The problem is, I don’t have much experience with women on a social level. I find it difficult to separate patient relationships from personal ones. Could you...would you give me some advice? It’s been a long time since I’ve kept company with a lady.”

  During the war, he’d become engaged to a nurse who’d assisted him in surgery. They’d spent so many hours together that they could finish one another’s sentences. A marriage between them would have been comfortable and rewarding. Wartime was difficult for medical personnel, the hours unpredictable, and the work never-ending. Still, men died. The comfort of another person made life bearable.

  He and Phoebe decided to wait until he was released from the army. When he told her they’d be moving back to his home in Omaha, she balked. Her home was Philadelphia, and she had no intention of being a frontier wife. She wanted the prestige of being a doctor’s wife and the mansion on the hill that went with it. When he told her he’d like her to run his medical office, she exploded. That was the end of the engagement. He returned home alone.

  Arianna dropped the bandage on the table and clasped his hands. “I’d be delighted, simply delighted to offer any help.” She tipped her chin up at him. “Now, who’s the lucky lady?”

  Chapter Three

  Connie bounced out of bed the day of Claire’s birthday. Because it landed on the day before Thanksgiving, it was a perfect opportunity to have a celebration with lots of friends. Now that she’d been convinced to attend, she could hardly wait. Claire’s husband, Tom Maxwell, would slaughter a steer and roast it on a huge spit behind their ranch house. As Connie dressed, she imagined him basting the beef with his secret marinade. The aromas would waft through the yard and into the house. Her mouth watered with anticipation.

  Connie arrived at the Maxwell house early that morning with an excited Andrew. The aroma of meat cooking led them to the back yard where Tom was turning the huge spit. “That smells so good. I’m putting you to work at the café.”

  The big rancher laughed and shooed her and Andrew away. “I’d be out of work in no time. This is my only specialty.” He bent to add wood to the fire. “Andy, don’t get too close. The fire is very hot. Claire and Emily are in the kitchen.”

  Connie knocked and eased open the door, letting themselves in. “Claire, I’m here to help. Hope you don’t mind we’re early.”

  “Mind? I’m thankful for the help. Tom’s idea of feeding a crowd is to cook the beef. He didn’t think about everything else that goes with having company–like having enough chairs, plates, and side dishes, not to mention the cleaning beforehand.” She wiped perspiration from her forehead. “Look at me, complaining on my birthday. I should be thankful I’m celebrating another one.”

  “You two, go elsewhere to play.” Connie handed Emily and Andy cookies. “Mrs. Maxwell and I have a lot of cooking to do, and we don’t want you underfoot. Mind that arm now, son. Emily, you keep an eye on him.”

  “Yes ma’am.” They both mumbled through mouthfuls of oatmeal cookies.

  “I’m gonna show him the new puppies in the barn,” Emily squealed.

  Connie laughed. “Good. Be gentle with them.” Emily was Andy’s best friend, and they had all day to play because school was out for the Thanksgiving holiday. The youngsters grabbed more cookies, shot out the back door, and raced across the yard.

  “I think I’ll have me a cookie too. They’re left over from yesterday’s baking but still good. Want one?” She offered the cloth covered basket to her sweet-toothed friend and tied the apron Claire handed her around her waist.

  “If you made them, of course. Pour us some coffee while I go check to see if the little ones are still asleep.” Claire had two younger children, three-year-old Richard and one-year-old Virginia

  “May I take a peek?” Connie asked. Claire nodded and they tiptoed into the children’s bedroom. It was a treat to see the youngsters. She stood in the doorway as her friend tucked a blanket around the children. An ache spread through her. Percy had wanted another child, but she’d put it off. She’d been so busy raising Andy, caring for a house, and running a bustling café, that she couldn’t manage a baby. Now it was too late. At thirty-five, she was too old, and her husband was gone. Be thankful you have Andy.

  She tried to swallow, but her throat constricted. Backing silently from the room, she retreated to the kitchen before Claire spotted her envious stares. Claire deserved those beautiful children and her wonderful husband. Things hadn’t been easy for her. She’d turned a rundown business into a thriving mercantile, dealt with a long-lost crazy fiancé, and survived a kidnapping. Through it all, she kept her strength and her faith. Connie wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron.

  If she can stand tough, so can I. I’ve been blessed too. I’m strong and healthy, and I have Percy’s son. My businesses are doing well. I just need to find a way to balance them better. Maybe carve out some time for myself and have more fun, like today.

  Claire tiptoed back into the kitchen and eased into a chair at the large oak table. “They’re tuckered out. Tom had the puppies in here earlier, and they played with them for hours. Say, you wouldn’t want…”

  “Not on your life. My hands are full enough. Besides, what would I do in town with a border collie? Have it herd my customers?” They burst out laughing, and Connie’s throat eased. It was good to have a friend to laugh with. She needed to laugh more. Life was more than working all the time. Wasn’t it?

  “All right, let’s get busy. We can visit and cook at the same time.” Claire stood and reached for her own apron. “I think Tom invited the entire town. Let’s see, I’m making mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, and biscuits to go along with the beef.”

  “And I brought two White Velvet cakes and a bushel of apples from my tree. Andrew and Emily gathered them before he fell.”

  “Well, you know the saying, ‘there’s no great loss without some small gain.’” Claire’s dimples appeared, and her green eyes twinkled. “I guess we can set out some preserves and pickles to stretch things.”

  “Yes, plus I think Arianna and Josie are bringing baked beans and a pie.”

  Claire nodded and pulled out a bushel of potatoes from the cupboard. “Guess we start here.” She grabbed a paring knife. “At least the work goes faster with two of us. Happy birthday to me!” Their giggles rang through the kitchen as they got to work.

  Connie dumped a pile of carrots on the table to clean. “Good thing birthdays happen only once a year.”

  “Amen to that. Now tell me what’s happening with your new location. ”

  Connie plunked into a seat at the table, picked up a carrot, and began peeling. “I’m not really sure what’s going on. When I first opened Wild Rose’s Café, it did great. The area is good, the recipes are the same as the original location, and I’m baking the desserts myself. I have a man deliver them daily.” She sliced and dropped the peeled carrot into a large enamel bowl and reached for another.

  “Last week when I went over the books, sales had dropped dramatically. Even my desserts weren’t selling. I’ve
heard people have been getting sick from the food. I’ve been in business for ten years. No one has ever been sick in all that time. Any ideas?” More carrot slices hit the bowl.

  “Let’s talk it out. The name is clever and people know it’s owned by you. It’s at the intersection of 42nd and Center, right? That’s not far from this ranch. Tom tells me there are plans to build a freight office there, maybe another telegraph office, even a bank. I would think a café there would be welcome. Business people like to be able to enjoy a good noon meal.” Claire set down her paring knife and grasped her stoneware mug.

  “We know the recipes are good. Do you have a decent cook?” She swallowed a swig of her coffee and helped herself to another cookie.

  Connie sipped from her own mug. ”Yes, I hired her myself. Her name is Margaret Dawson. She’s a widow with several children. When I interviewed her, I had her prepare several of my most popular dishes. She knows her way around a kitchen.” The bowl was filling up. The more Connie talked, the faster she peeled and chopped.

  “Dawson? She’s not related to that slimy banker, J.J. Dawson, is she?” Claire’s upper lip curled. Connie recalled with a jolt that years ago, when Claire came to Omaha to take over her aunt’s run-down mercantile, Mr. Dawson had tried to swindle her out of her business. Claire’s own fast thinking and a Colt pistol got her out of that situation.

  Connie brushed the crumbs from the table into her apron pocket and picked up her mug. “I think she’s his sister-in-law. But I can’t blame her because of what her brother-in-law did. Besides, I felt like I should give her a job. She’s got five little ones to support. I know what it’s like to raise a family without a husband.”