Chapter Thirteen
Trevor had seenJedidiah’s apartment earlier, of course, but he hadn’t paid attention to much besides Ricky and the problems he presented. Well, and that odd moment with Jedidiah. Now he had a chance to look around. It didn’t do much to give him any hints into Jedidiah’s likes and dislikes. Except the bookshelf with an eclectic mix of fiction and nonfiction in both hardback and paperback. But the apartment was bare of decorations. No paintings or other things on the walls, no photos scattered about, no fluffy pillows or throws on the furniture. While she hadn’t been there that long, she’d had plenty of time to add her own touches to the place.
Interesting. He didn’t know another woman who didn’t leave her stamp on her home. The only exception that hinted at the real Jedidiah was a glass étagère where a number of tiny critters and other items made by her brother Gabe were arranged on one of the shelves. On the shelf above that was the glass sculpture she’d picked up at the Artisans’ Fair. He walked over to the shelf while Jedidiah got the beer from her refrigerator. “I see you found a place for the glasswork you bought at the fair.”
“I did. I really like it.”
“Did you ever decide what it was?”
“Like I said before: beautiful. But I think it’s a water fountain. Because of all the shades of blue.”
“I can see that. These are amazing, too,” he said, motioning to the tiny figures when she walked over to him and handed him a beer.
“Gabe has always given his family these little creations. I’m not sure what he makes them out of. Watch parts, we think.” She smiled. “That’s how we knew he was serious about Chantel. The only women who’ve ever received one of these were me, Damaris, Mom, and Ruthie. When he started making them for Chantel we knew he’d fallen hard for her.”
“It’s hard to miss how he feels about her.”
“True. And she feels the same about him.”
Feelings. There they went again. “You were really good with Ricky today,” Trevor said, changing the subject.
“Four brothers, remember?” She sat on the couch and waved him over.
“Speaking of your brothers, why haven’t I ever met your brother Cole?”
“Cole and I are the black sheep.” She laughed. “Or maybe just the gray sheep. But neither of us wanted to stay on the ranch. We both like horses—you’d have to work hard not to in our family—but neither of us wanted a career in ranching and God knows, neither of us is artistic. Apparently all of the artist genes went to Gabe. Cole is a petroleum geologist. He worked for a couple of oil companies before deciding to start his own business. He maintains and repairs oil well rigs.”
“Where does he live?”
“He has an apartment here so technically Whiskey River is his home but he travels a lot. He keeps threatening to take some time off but I’ll believe it when I see it.” The doorbell rang and she got up to answer it.
“Let me pay for it,” Trevor said, rising. “You got the beer.”
“Too late. I charged it.” She brought the box back with her and set it on the coffee table. “Let me get some napkins.” She returned with paper towels and handed him a couple. They each took a piece of pizza. He noticed she took a healthy bite and closed her eyes. “Yum. Pizza is the perfect food.”
“It’s good but I don’t know about perfect.”
“There’s carbs, protein, and veggies. And it tastes great. What more can you ask for?”
“Whole grains?” he hazarded.
She waved a hand. “Overrated.”
He finished his piece, decided she had a point and picked up another. Before long they’d finished the entire pie and he was thinking he should probably leave. But he didn’t want to. And she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to kick him out.
“Do you want another beer?”
“If you’re going to have one,” he said.
She picked up the empty bottles and the cardboard box from the pizza and carried them with her to the kitchen, returning with a couple of beer bottles.
“Do you think Ricky’s going to be okay?” she asked, handing him his drink.
“Thanks. I do. I’ve put some feelers out to a few foster parents I know. Of course, we don’t know how traumatized he is but he seems strong and he’s definitely resourceful. He was on his own and managed to evade everyone for three days. That’s hard to do.”
“He could be strong but still traumatized. I don’t know much about kids. Or anything about the foster care system either. But if Ricky’s foster parents are an example I pity anyone in the system.”
“Most of them aren’t like that. The system has its good and bad points.” He thought about that a minute then shrugged mentally. It wasn’t as if that part of his life was a secret. “I’ve seen it from both sides.”
