Alarms sounded in Megan's mind. "Is something wrong?"
"Things are very right." Beth set aside her mug. "A dozen guys-and women-from the Cattleman's Club spent the weekend volunteering."
Another reason to be grateful to a man she'd spent the past three and half years resenting. "Whit said he intended to ask them to help out...."
And she was grateful. She'd assumed a couple of them would come by to play with the dogs.
"Well, they did more than help out. In addition to doing the regular cleaning and exercising the dogs, they fixed the broken kennel run and cleared an area behind the play yard that's been full of debris. They said they'll be back after Thanksgiving weekend to build an agility course for the dogs and add a climbing tree for the cat house." Beth winked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You must have really impressed him."
Megan's knees felt wobbly. He'd coordinated all that effort this weekend while she'd been thinking about a quick fling? She'd had Whit Daltry all wrong. All. Wrong.
"Whit mentioned putting in a call, but I had no idea how much they would do. Especially when everyone is still dealing with the upheaval in their own lives."
"They care about each other and our community. They just needed pointing in this direction to help. It's okay to ask for help every now and again, Megan. You don't have to be a superwoman."
She nodded tightly. "For the animals, absolutely."
"For yourself."
Megan stayed silent, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. She was happy with her life, damn it. She was looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with her daughter, eating turkey nuggets and sweet potato fries.
Memories of Evie's laughter at the ice skating rink taunted her with all she might be missing.
"So?" Beth tipped back the office chair and sipped her tea. "How did things go with you and Whit on the great kitty transport?"
"Fantastic. The rescue is all foster-home-based, so every cat is now placed with a family until an adopter is found." Megan opted for impersonal facts. She walked to the shelves by a small table and straightened adoption applications and promotional flyers. After Thanksgiving, she would need to put up a small Santa Paws tree for donations. So much to do. She didn't have time for anything else. "I even made some notes for our shelter on how they handle their foster system."
"Sounds like Whit is really bending over backwards to mend fences with you."
Megan crossed her arms over her chest that still yearned for the press of Whit's body against hers. "As you said, we all need to do what's best for the community right now."
"Sure, and sometimes it's personal." Standing, Beth said, gently, "Like now."
"I never even implied-"
"You don't have to. You're blushing!" Beth pointed, her nails short and neat. She stepped closer and whispered, "What happened while you were in Colorado? Come on. I tell you everything. Spill!"
"There's nothing to tell." Sadly. Megan had wanted more and still didn't know why he'd pulled away. "My daughter was with me. How about we discuss your love life? Yours definitely has more traction than mine. How are things with you and Drew Farrell? Have you set a date?"
"Weeellll, a Valentine's wedding would be nice, but we'll see." She set aside her mug with a contented sigh. "For now, we're enjoying being together and in love. Repairs are still going on at my house. Once they're done, we'll decide if I'm going to sell or stay at Drew's."
"How's Stormy?"
Beth had adopted a cocker spaniel mix from the shelter, similar to her dog Gus that had died. Stormy had stolen Beth's heart when she'd volunteered after the tornado. "Full of mischief and a total delight."
"And the cats?" She stalled for time.
When Drew first dropped Beth off at the shelter after the storm to help Megan with cleanup, Megan encouraged Drew to take a couple of cats home with him. He'd insisted he was allergic to cats, but Megan could tell he and Beth were both enchanted. Since the kittens had come from a feral litter, placing them would have proved difficult at a time when they were already packed. Megan had mentioned the possibility of him needing barn cats-and it was a match made in heaven.
"They spend more time indoors than in the barn. Drew pops a couple of antihistamines and watches ball games with them in his lap." Home-and-hearth bliss radiated from her smile. "It's adorable."
Megan didn't begrudge Beth that joy, but God, it stung today of all days. "I'm happy for you both. For Stormy and the cats too. Thank you for taking them."
"Our pleasure."
Hearing how easily Beth said "our," Megan couldn't help but ask, "You and Drew were enemies for so long. How did you overcome that negative history so easily?"
"Who said it was easy?"
"Oh, but-"
Beth rested a hand on hers. "It's worth the effort." She sat back with a sigh. "I'm still in the 'pinch me' stage with this relationship. It's everything I didn't dare to dream of growing up."
Beth was a jeans-and-cotton-shirts kind of girl, with a causal elegance she didn't seem to realize she had. If anything, she was a little insecure in spite of all her success, sensitive about her past and the whole notion of having grown up on the wrong side of the tracks.
Megan gave Beth an impulsive hug. "It's real." She leaned back with a smile. "I've seen the way he looks at you and I'm so happy for you, my friend."
"Thank you." Beth hugged Megan back. "By the way, I noticed you dodged answering my question about Whit. I only ask because I care. I want you to be happy. You deserve to have more in your life than work."
"I have my daughter." Megan sat at the table set up for people to fill out adoption applications, the Thanksgiving holiday suddenly looming large and lonely ahead of her.
Beth walked to the table and sat in the chair across from her. "And when Evie grows up?"
"Then you and I can have this talk again." She fidgeted with a pen, spinning it in a pinwheel on the table.
Beth's eyes turned sad. "I'll respect your need for privacy." Standing again, she started to return to the front desk, then looked back over her shoulder. "Oh, in case you wanted to tell the Cattleman's Club thank-you in person, this weekend they're having a big cleanup in preparation for Christmas decorating."
* * *
Whit couldn't remember having a crummier Thanksgiving. Thank God it was finally over and he could spend the weekend helping out at the club with cleanup and decorating.
His invitation to spend Thanksgiving with Megan and her daughter had been impulsive-he'd originally just planned to send some flowers as part of his gradual pursuit. So he'd been surprised at the level of disappointment when she'd turned him down for dinner. That frustration had gathered steam with each day he waited and she didn't return his calls.
His catered turkey meal had tasted like cardboard. He'd ended up donating the lot to a homeless shelter. There had been invitations from his buddies in the Cattleman's Club to join them and their families for the holiday, but he hadn't felt up to pretending. No doubt part of his bad mood could be chalked up to the memorial service planned for Craig next week.
He just wasn't up to being everyone's pal today, either, but he'd promised to help and so many of them had chipped in to volunteer at the shelter. This club was the closest thing to family he had.
Launched by some of the most powerful men in town, the Texas Cattleman's Club had stood proud in Royal, Texas for more than a century. The TCC worked hard to help out in the community while also being a great place for members to get away from it all and to make contacts.
To be invited into the TCC was a privilege and a life-long commitment. And for a man who'd grown up as rootless as he had, that word-commitment-was something he didn't take lightly.
He climbed a ladder to hook lights along a towering tree outside the main building, an old-world men's club built around 1910. The tree was taller than the rambling single-story building constructed of dark stone and wood with a tall slate roof. Part of that roof had been damaged by the tornado, as were some of the outbuildings.
Looking in through the wide windows, he could see other club members and their families decorating the main area, which had dark wood floors, big, leather-upholstered furniture and super-high ceilings. TCC president Gil Addison was leading a contingent carrying in the massive live tree to be used inside.