“I think we have some thinking—and talking—to do. And I don’t think we should do any of it here.”
“Yeah.” Brandon pulled out his wallet and put enough money on the table to cover everything that had been consumed there. He’d watched Rachel as she’d moved from table to table in her section, and he knew she’d had to fight the urge to look at him.
When he stood, she turned and met his gaze. There’s something here. Brandon nodded to her then looked at Trace. “Let’s go back to the house and talk.”
“Sounds like a damn good idea to me.”
Chapter Two
With supper over, the dishes washed, and the kitchen tidied, Rachel had what she called her bauble bits spread out on the kitchen table, ready to get to work.
She stored her pieces—threads and chains, beads and “gems”—in a portable storage unit that held about forty small plastic boxes, a unit with wheels. If her baubles had been crafted from precious or semi-precious stones, then she’d have a storage place that locked. But Rachel’s creations were simple bits of costume jewelry, and so this worked well for her.
This had become the point in her day when she tended to make most of her baubles, and from the age that she could manage it, her daughter, Libby, had joined her at the table, “helping” to make baubles, too.
Rachel had become adept at keeping one eye on what she was doing and the other on whatever Libby was up to. It was a habit formed when her daughter, at the ripe old age of four, had begun to insist on her right to be independent. Working on the baubles together with her little girl formed some of Rachel’s most cherished memories. It was mother-daughter time, with purpose.
Now a teenager with one year’s experience, Libby didn’t really need her mother to keep an eye on her. The truth was, Rachel just loved to look at her, to know she was here. Hers. Cancer free. Strong and growing stronger each day. Becoming healthier each day.
Sadly, that strong independent streak of Libby’s had been a little battered and bruised by all she’d endured over the last few years. Despite all the positive reinforcement Rachel had given Libby for all of her life, her self-esteem had taken a hit, as well.
This was the unseen toll that cancer extracted, and it was no less heartbreaking than the loss of her hair had been. Of course, it hadn’t only been the cancer that had affected Libby’s confidence. The desertion of her daddy had been a blow that had inflicted untold damage as well. For one moment, Rachel’s emotions overflowed with the blows her daughter had taken.
My poor, beautiful baby! How much should one little girl be expected to bear?
Rachel mentally shook her head and reminded herself that Libby wasn’t a baby anymore. She was a teenager, a young woman of fourteen. Her daughter was finding her way back, and Rachel ached for everything Libby had had thrown at her, so early and so fast, by life.
She reminded herself she needed to stay positive, even in her unspoken inner thoughts. She didn’t think that wishing to see Buck Cosgrove hanging by his balls was necessarily a positive thought.
Sensing that Libby was becoming aware of maternal scrutiny, Rachel put her attention, instead, on the bracelet that she was making.
Libby showed a definite artistic flair in the arrangement of the colors of the beads she used and in the softness of the palette. “That’s beautiful,” Rachel said.
“Thanks.” Libby looked up. “Do you think Mrs. Jessop would include it in her catalogue?”
“You’re not making this for yourself or for Bonnie?”
“No. I was thinking that maybe I could help you with this business. Everyone I know seems to have chores to do and a way to make some spending money. All the kids at school have to pitch in at home. I already keep my room clean and clear the table after supper and scrub the bathroom. But I thought I could do more. And maybe, I could earn some spending money at the same time.”
One of the things Rachel respected about this small town was that there seemed to be an underlying strength here. The firm belief that everyone should step up and pitch in was prevalent. Folks in Lusty believed in everyone being accountable as well as everyone belonging.
Those had always been Rachel’s tenets, too. She also believed it was never too early to teach a child that accountability was a very important characteristic to develop. Libby had always had jobs around the house. Rachel thought this request was something more and, she believed, a sign her daughter’s emotional recovery was taking a tiny step forward.
“I’ll tell you what. You go ahead and make some pieces to show to Mrs. Jessop. If she likes them, I bet she’ll include them. If they sell, then we’ll discuss the business details of our partnership.”
Libby beamed. “Thanks, Mom. I like doing this.”
“You’re welcome, sweetie. I know you like making baubles. You’re good at it, too.”
Libby gifted her with a sweet smile then turned her attention back to the beads.
Crafting jewelry had been a hobby for Rachel when she’d been a teenager. Then, as a stay-at-home mom, it had been a way for her to keep busy and to earn a little bit of money at regional craft sales.
It was at one such craft sale outside of Waco, about six years before, that Rachel had met Chloe Rhodes—now Chloe Jessop. The woman had been opening up a day spa and had thought it would be nice to offer hand-made jewelry created by local artisans.
Saying yes to Chloe had been, to that point in her life, the best decision she’d ever made. Over the years, Rachel had earned a small but steady income from the baubles she made. Rachel smiled. Chloe had become a good friend
