Be My Baby: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 3 Read online

  Docia’s gaze transformed from shock to something more like calculation. “Jess?”

  Oops. “Mrs. Carroll,” Lars amended. “Daisy’s sitter.”

  “Jess Carroll,” Janie echoed. “I still haven’t met her. Why don’t you bring her to dinner?”

  Lars heard alarm bells ringing in his brain. He hadn’t yet been able to convince his sisters-in-law that efforts at matchmaking were futile. He had no intention of getting hooked up with anyone until Daisy was twenty-one, and maybe not even then, given the catastrophe he’d stumbled into the last time he tried it. “Maybe sometime. What’s new at the bookstore?”

  Janie’s look told him she wasn’t even slightly fooled by that diversionary tactic, but she apparently decided to let him get by with it. “Right now, it’s hell, but things will get better in January.”

  “That long?” He turned toward Docia.

  “We’ve got the Kris Kringle Market to plan for,” she explained.

  “Kris Kringle Market?” His eyebrows stayed in questioning mode. “It’s only the first week in November. I thought that didn’t happen until after Thanksgiving.”

  Docia sighed. “It doesn’t. The thing is, whatever we sell in the booth has to be approved by the Merchants Association, and it has to be something nobody else is doing.”

  “So no funnel cakes. Richter’s Insurance Agency beat us to it. And no kettle corn because that’s what Hesselmeyer’s fruit stand always does. We’ve got to come up with something by the end of the week or we’re doomed.” Janie rolled a bit of pasta on her fork. “Did I mention this is really good, Cal?”

  “Why not sell books?” Lars turned back to Docia. “I mean, that’s what you do, right?”

  “Right.” Docia’s voice was dry. “I’m sure a booth selling books would be a big hit at an outdoor holiday festival.”

  “Okay, if books don’t work, what does?” He helped himself to more pasta. Janie was right—it was really good.

  “Food,” Docia intoned, counting off on her fingers. “That’s the biggest thing. After that, crafts—there’ll be tons of crafts people from all over the state.”

  “Which means we can’t sell crafts since we can’t possibly compete with the pros. And we can’t sell books. So we’re back to food again.” Janie reached for another piece of bread.

  “Candy canes,” Wonder suggested. “Gingerbread men.”

  “I’m doing gingerbread men,” Allie snapped. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

  Wonder winced. Lars had a feeling gingerbread wasn’t the major problem between them at the moment.

  “Dog biscuits,” Cal said flatly, pushing back from the table.

  Everyone at the table stared at him, including both dogs.

  Cal walked to the stove, where he heaped more pasta onto the platter. “People buy gifts for their pets at Christmas. Home-baked dog biscuits could be just what they’re looking for. Even if they’re just for stocking stuffers.”

  “Dog biscuits.” Docia frowned, thoughtfully. “Where would we find recipes?”

  Janie shrugged. “The Web? I’ll bet there are lots out there. And Cal could check them to make sure they were okay.”

  “Sure.” Cal slid the pasta-laden platter back on the table. “Dog biscuit recipes should be easy enough.”

  “Maybe cats too,” Janie chimed in. “Cat biscuits.”

  Pete stared at her. “There’s no such thing.”

  “Well, there should be.” Janie nodded at Docia’s cat, who sat on the bookcase examining the two dogs for possible weaknesses. “Nico would eat them, wouldn’t he, Docia.”

  “Probably. He eats everything else that comes his way.” Docia gave Cal a stunning grin. “Thanks, Doc, I think you’ve got it.”

  “Anytime, ma’am.” Cal bent down to kiss her ear, ruffling Daisy’s hair as he did.

  Lars told himself he didn’t feel old and grumpy and unloved. Still, he wished Daisy would give him a hug.

  “You know, we could do books, too,” Docia mused. “Stuff about pets. Kids books. That kind of thing. Buy your dog a biscuit and your kid a copy of Old Yeller.”

  Wonder gave her a surprisingly wistful look. “I read that when I was a kid. Begged for a golden lab until my folks found out I was allergic to dogs.”

  Allie narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sneezing now.”

  Wonder shrugged. “Neither of these dogs have any hair to speak of.”

  “It’s not the hair, it’s the dander,” Cal explained.

  Docia glanced down at Cal’s dog. “Do Chihuahuas have dander?”

  “Everything has dander.” Cal reached to scratch the greyhound’s ears. “It’s just dry skin flakes.”

  Janie grimaced. “Okay, officially euww. I don’t want to talk about this during dinner.”

  Docia nodded. “I’m with you.” She glanced down at Daisy again, then back at Lars, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Tell us about Mrs. Carroll and Jack, Dais.”

  Daisy glanced up at her, chewing on a carrot stick. “I’m gonna marry Jack.”

  “Right. What does Mrs. Carroll say about that?” Docia cocked an eyebrow.

  “She says okay. But he’s not old enough. I’ll marry him when I’m five.” Daisy checked the table for new snacks.

  “Is Mrs. Carroll nice, Dais?” Janie sounded deceptively innocent.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Daisy nodded, reaching for another piece of bread. Docia redirected her hand to another carrot stick.

  “Is she pretty?” Docia’s eyes were glittering again.

  “I guess. Can I have a cookie?” Daisy stared up at Lars.

  “Did you have any normal food?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Daisy said patiently.

  “Okay, then.”

  Lars watched Daisy grab a chocolate chip cookie the size of a saucer. Please, please, please let the subject of Jessamyn Carroll be closed.

  Fat chance. “What do you do at Mrs. Carroll’s house all day?” Janie lifted Daisy and her cookie into her lap.

  “Play with Jack and color and play games on the computer. And clean the cabin sometimes.”

  “The cabin?” Janie glanced at Lars.

  “The guest house. She manages the B and B.”

  “Oh.” Janie shrugged. “Well, maybe you can pick up some housekeeping skills. Not that you’ll need them since you’ll be the CEO who hires people to come in and clean her house.”

  “What’s a CEO?” Daisy asked, pushing the rest of the cookie into her mouth.

  “Somebody who runs a company,” Pete explained. “The big cheese.”

  Daisy frowned at him. “We don’t eat cheese. We have soup. And Mrs. Carroll feeds Jack with her…”

  “Daisy!” Lars sat up abruptly.

  Daisy stared back at him wide-eyed.

  “We talked about this,” he said flatly. “You remember what I told you.”

  “But she…”

  “No, Daisy!” Lars felt his ears getting hot. Everybody at the table was staring at him.

  Daisy’s eyes began to pool. “It’s just her boobies!” she blurted. “You said there was nothing wrong with boobies.”

  The silence in the room was so complete Lars could hear the sound of the Chihuahua’s toenails clicking across the living room. He took a deep breath, very carefully not looking at anyone in the room. “Mrs. Carroll is nursing her baby. Daisy and I discussed it. I thought the subject was closed.”

  He chanced a quick glance around the table. Wonder blinked at him. Allie was biting her lip. Pete’s face had turned magenta and Cal had a hand clapped over his mouth.

  Docia swallowed hard, her lips trembling with the effort not to laugh. “He’s right, Daisy. There’s nothing wrong with boobies.” Her voice shook a little on the last word. “It’s just that we don’t usually talk about them at dinner.” She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together hard.

  “Well,” Janie muttered, “maybe on special occasions.”

  The general hysterics took about ten minutes to settle back into
the occasional snicker. Lars let his chin sink onto his fists on the table. Gee, parenthood was fun.

  Chapter Five

  Even after several days, Daisy still beat Lars to the front door in her eagerness to get to Jessamyn Carroll’s house. “What’s the rush?” he asked, taking a firm hold on her hand before she could dash outside.

  “I wanna see if Jack’s grown any,” she explained. “He might be bigger.”

  He buckled her into her car seat. “Babies grow slowly, Dais. You probably won’t see much difference.”

  She gave that observation the contempt she obviously felt it deserved. He wondered how long this particular fad would last before she moved on to her next obsession. After all, last week it had been stuffed turtles.

  At the B and B, Jess gave him a quick smile before shooing Daisy into the house. “Has she had breakfast?” she called over her shoulder.

  Lars felt a quick pinch of irritation. “Of course.”

  Jess nodded. “Good. She can help me feed Jack. C’mon Daisy, he’s waiting.” And the door swung shut behind her.

  He trudged back to his car, feeling oddly depressed about going to his office alone.

  Midway through the morning, between appointments with a realtor who wanted some (preferably cheap) tax help and a prospective fruit stand owner who wanted a business plan, Mrs. Suarez leaned in his door. “Do you have time for a walk-in?”

  Lars shrugged. “I guess so. The next client isn’t due for another forty minutes. Send him in.”

  The man who stepped into his office a moment later looked to be in his late forties. His blue suit was a little tight for his slightly pudgy frame, and he wore a bolo tie with a large silver longhorn at the top. When he removed his tan Stetson, his graying hair ringed a significant bald spot, with a few strands brushed across for effect. His chin bulged over his collar, not quite to double but no longer exactly single.

  Lars disliked him on sight.

  “Mr. Toleffson,” he boomed, “I’m Lorne Haggedorn. Down from Oklahoma City. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Lars shook the man’s extended hand dutifully. Haggedorn wore a gold pinkie ring with a dull green stone. “What can I do for you, Mr. Haggedorn?”

  Haggedorn settled into the chair opposite the desk, then rested his ankle on his knee so that Lars could see his elaborately embroidered cowboy boots. The toes were so sharply pointed he almost winced.

  “I’m checking out some possibilities here in Konigsburg.” Haggedorn leaned back into his chair. “Looks like a pretty successful little town.”

  Lars nodded. “Generally, yeah. The Merchants Association can give you more information about that.”

  Haggedorn’s eyes narrowed. “I wanted to check the place out for myself. See what kind of services the town had. I may want to move some business down here.”

  “What kind of business are you in, Mr. Haggedorn?” Lars tried to sound like he really cared.

  “Land development.” Haggedorn waved a hand in the general direction of Main. “Understand that’s big around here. Lots of opportunities.”

  Lars nodded. “Also lots of people already involved. It’s a very competitive market.”

  Haggedorn shrugged. “Always is. So how do you like the town, Mr. Toleffson?”

  “Fine. It’s a good place to live.” Lars considered giving Haggedorn the standard Konigsburg pitch, then decided to leave it to the Merchants Association.

  Haggedorn’s expression sharpened. “How’s the accounting business?”

  “No complaints.” Lars wondered idly if Haggedorn was a potential competitor trying to size him up.

  “So you have a wife? Kids? What’s this place like for families?”

  Lars took a breath. “I have family here, yes. So far as I know the schools are good.”

  “What about child care? Any daycare centers around?”

  “There’s a daycare center near the highway. Wee Care.” Haggedorn looked too old to have kids in daycare, but maybe he had a young trophy wife. Sort of like Sherice. Lars managed not to grimace.

  Haggedorn nodded. “That where you’ve got your kids?”

  Lars felt a prickling up his spine for no reason he could exactly identify. “I looked into it, yes.”

  “Young kids then?” Haggedorn’s lips spread in a grin that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Boys or girls?”

  “I have a daughter.”

  “And this daycare place is good?”

  “It looked good to me.” Lars ignored the slight stiffness in his shoulders. “You should talk to them directly, though. I’m sure they’d show you around. Are you also looking for accounting services, Mr. Haggedorn?”

  He’d seldom seen a client he wanted less than Lorne Haggedorn. But discussing business felt better than discussing Daisy.

  “I might. If I decide to move down here, that is.” Haggedorn fiddled with his bolo tie, staring out the window behind Lars’s desk.

  “What kind of service would you be looking for? Business plan? Taxes? Financial planning?”

  Haggedorn shrugged. “All of that, I imagine. Haven’t decided yet. You do mainly business accounting, right?”

  “Mainly.”

  The prickling up Lars’s spine was more persistent. Something felt profoundly wrong about Lorne Haggedorn, beyond the bad combover and the gaudy boots. “When you do decide what you’re looking for, I’ll be glad to give you an idea of what the costs would be. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  Haggedorn’s eyes narrowed again, making him look a little like a life-size Pillsbury Doughboy. “I’ll do that. Any other information you can give me about the town?”

  Lars leaned back in his chair. “I like it, but it’s not for everybody. People do keep track of each other in small towns. It wouldn’t be a good place for anybody who wanted privacy. Or who didn’t like other people poking into his business.”

  For a moment he and Haggedorn stared at each other in silence. Then Haggedorn’s lips slid into another sour grin. “I’ll keep that in mind, then. Nice talking to you.”

  Lars stood, but managed not to shake Haggedorn’s hand. “Stop by again. Let me know if you decide to stay.”

  “Oh, I’ll be staying.” Haggedorn turned toward the door. “You can be sure of that.”

  Lars watched him walk past Mrs. Suarez’s desk, wondering what exactly Haggedorn would be staying for.

  By the beginning of their second week together, Jess had figured out how to get Daisy to cooperate—use Jack shamelessly.

  Daisy had taken him over as her consort and her partner in crime, although those crimes were at a pretty rudimentary level, given that he could only crawl. With Jack’s limited mobility, Jess wasn’t overly worried about Daisy’s plots, but she didn’t leave them alone together for more than a few minutes at most.

  Now Daisy sat next to Jack’s playpen, in the middle of the guest cabin’s living room. She wiggled her fingers through the mesh, grinning while Jack giggled helplessly.

  “Great audience, kid,” Jess muttered. “Who knew you were this easy to please?” She gave one last swipe of her sponge over the sink, then rinsed again.

  “Are we done?” Daisy piped.

  “Almost. I’ve got to run the sweeper and then we can go back home.” Fortunately, the couple who’d had the cabin at the beginning of the week had looked to be in their late sixties, which may have limited any tendencies toward carousing and thus cut back on the need for cleaning.

  Daisy’s brow furrowed. “Jack doesn’t like the sweeper. It’s too noisy.”

  “Do you want to sit with him?” Jess cocked an eyebrow in Daisy’s direction. This was a new thing—Daisy sitting in Jack’s playpen like a miniature convict.

  “Perhaps that would be best,” Daisy intoned, then pulled herself to her feet.

  Jess blinked at her. Sometimes the kid seemed like two going on forty. However, since she apparently spent most of her time around adults, except for Jack, Jess figured she had a right to some weird speech patterns.


  “Okay, in you go.” Jess slid her hands under Daisy’s arms and lifted her in with Jack. He immediately grabbed a couple of handfuls of her hair, crowing in delight.

  Daisy freed herself by pushing his hands away. “Not now, Jack. Maybe later.”

  Jess bit her lip, telling herself that Daisy hadn’t necessarily heard that phrase before her parents’ divorce. Still, it seemed appropriate.

  Or not. One thing Jess had had to accept over the past two weeks—Lars Toleffson was one good-looking man. She was reminded of that fact every time he dropped Daisy off or picked her up. He was impossibly broad-shouldered, even in the business suits he usually wore. His hair was the color of strong coffee, and his eyes were like molasses. Just looking at him made her feel hungry.

  But looking was all she was doing. She was definitely not in the market for any kind of hook-up, even the very temporary kind. And a temporary hook-up with the man who was paying her to look after his daughter didn’t seem like a smart thing to do. Not to mention that Lars Toleffson hadn’t seemed even slightly interested in her in a carnal way.

  Probably too tired. Lord knew she was, and Jack wasn’t even walking yet. Jess switched on the vacuum sweeper, then checked him to see if it inspired any panic. Jack, busy handing his blocks to Daisy, seemed not to notice.

  “We could get Jack a dog,” Daisy chirped over the noise of the sweeper. “From my Uncle Cal.”

  “Your Uncle Cal?” Jess was vaguely aware that there were other Toleffsons in town, but she hadn’t met any of them. She hadn’t met much of anybody beyond Mrs. Carmody, the owner of the Lone Oak. Not that she wanted to meet people. It was best not to draw any more attention to the two of them than she had to. “What does your Uncle Cal do?”

  “He’s a veteran,” Daisy explained. “He fixes sick dogs.”

  “Veterinarian,” Jess corrected absently.

  “And Uncle Pete puts bad people in jail,” Daisy continued. “And Aunt Docia and Aunt Janie have books.”

  “What kind of books?” Jess ran the sweeper around the couch.

  Daisy shrugged. “All kinds. In the shop.”

  Okay. Bookshop. She’d seen a bookshop on Main—maybe that was the one. “Do you have any other uncles and aunts here in town?”