Chapter 26

26

T ucker felt Reagan slip from the bed. She came around to his side and bent, planting a soft kiss on his lips. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back for another one.

“You’re up early.”

“Lots to do today,” she told him. “We have a wedding tonight at the event center. Only about eighty in attendance, so it won’t be too complicated. Paula is over her stomach bug, thank goodness, and she’ll be back, so that’s a relief. Then tomorrow night, there’s a fiftieth anniversary party for a retired banker and his wife.”

He knew about the first since he and Ry were catering the wedding this evening. He assumed the anniversary party had made other arrangements regarding food, though it wouldn’t surprise him if Emerson had baked the cakes for the occasion.

“Are you going to the house to have breakfast with Miss Jean?” he asked as she began pulling on her clothes.

“No, Dayna said she would stop at The Bake House and bring some Danish for us to nibble on at this morning’s meeting. Harper’s got a fantastic coffee machine at the office, so I’ll grab a cup once I get there.”

She kissed him again. “What’s on your agenda today?”

“Matt and I didn’t want to talk business yesterday with everyone around, so he’s meeting me this morning at Aunt Shelly’s diner.”

“Sophie told me yesterday how much she really liked your new songs, Tucker. I think Matt may buy everything you’ve written since you’ve returned to Lost Creek.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ll work the lunch shift with Ry, and then I’ll see you at the wedding this evening.”

“Talk to you later,” she said, waving goodbye and exiting the cottage.

Tucker got up and showered, picking up his notebook of song ideas he’d been dabbling with. He walked across to the main house to let Miss Jean know he wouldn’t be eating breakfast with her this morning. The kitchen stood empty, though. He thought maybe she was taking it easy and sleeping in today, having worked so hard yesterday preparing yesterday’s meal and having no guests at the inn. He opened a couple of drawers before finding a notepad and pen and wrote her a note that he was grabbing breakfast at Lone Star Diner with Matt and that neither he nor Reagan would be home for dinner since they were working a wedding later this evening.

Tearing off the page, he left it on the counter where Miss Jean could easily find it and then drove into town, finding a parking place directly in front of the diner. He was meeting Matt at eight, which was ten minutes from now.

He entered and was immediately greeted by his aunt. She gave him a big hug.

“Yesterday went so well, didn’t it?” she said cheerfully. “I like the friends you and Ry have made in Lost Creek, Tucker.” Her eyes gleamed at him. “And I especially like Reagan Bradley for you .”

“Reagan is everything I could ever want in a woman, Aunt Shelly. In a wife, actually.”

She threw her arms about him again. “Oh, Tucker, I’m so happy for you. I know how much you loved Josie and how hard you took her death. You have a second chance at life and love now with Reagan. Have you asked you to marry you yet?”

“Not officially,” he revealed. “We’ve just talked in general terms. She knows what’s in my heart and that we have a future together. We haven’t formalized anything yet.”

“Don’t wait,” she advised. “Marry that girl soon. Don’t risk losing her.”

Changing the subject, he said, “I’m meeting Matt, Josie’s brother, for breakfast.” He glanced around, seeing the diner was about half-full. “I thought there’d be more of a crowd this morning.”

“I think a lot of folks are still in a food coma,” Aunt Shelly joked. “I’ll send Matt your way the minute he gets here. Go take that back booth against the windows. That’ll give you two a little privacy. I’ll try not to seat anyone near you since you’ll probably be talking business.”

“We plan to,” he told her.

“Well, after hearing those songs you wrote and sang the other night? Matt Hardy would be a fool if he didn’t snatch up each and every one of them.”

“It’s nice having you in my corner, Aunt Shelly,” Tucker said, moving to the back booth.

One of the longtime servers brought him a cup of coffee with a tall ice water and asked if might be ready to order.

“I’m waiting on a friend, Gloria. In fact, I see him coming in the door now.” Tucker raised a hand and caught Matt’s attention, waving him over.

“That’s Matt Hardy,” the server proclaimed in awe.

Matt arrived at the table and gave the woman his winning smile. “I’d love a cup of coffee, darlin,’ if you have a minute,” he said, his easy charm evident.

Starstruck, Gloria merely nodded and walked off, returning with a cup and saucer and pouring the coffee.

As Matt stirred sugar into it, he asked, “What’s good here?”

“Everything is good here, Mr. Hardy. Tucker leans to the Sunrise Special when he comes to breakfast. Is that what you’d like, Tuck?” she asked.

He nodded and looked back to Matt. “You can’t go wrong. It’s got a little of everything.”

Matt Smiled. “Make it two Sunrise Specials.”

Gloria whipped out her pad, all business now. “Eggs?”

“Scrambled.”

“Ham, bacon, or sausage?”

“Sausage,” Matt replied.

“Hash browns and fruit okay with you?”

“You bet.”

“Pancake or French toast?” Gloria asked.

Matt grinned. “How ’bout both?”

“You got it, Mr. Hardy,” the server said, sashaying away from them.

Tucker laughed easily. “Gloria has been here at least thirty years. Maybe more. She’s close to sixty. You know how to suck ’em in at any age, don’t you, Matt?”

“That I do,” his brother-in-law agreed. “Now, let’s get down to business. I want to buy every song you sang at Java Junction the other night, Tucker. You know I run everything by Sophie. She’s my sounding board and guiding light. She went wild over every song and even agreed that it might be a nice surprise for my fans and a good change of pace if I put out a CD strictly featuring country love songs. But do you have anything else in the pipe? Something a little more upbeat. More me.”

“I’m glad you mentioned that because I have a few ideas.”

Tucker opened the spiral notebook he’d brought along, telling Matt a few of the topics he was thinking about writing. Matt gave him the go-ahead on all of them.

“I also had time yesterday morning to start something new. I’ve got the chorus and almost an entire verse down. Here, take a listen.”

He picked up his phone and hit play, watching Matt’s face carefully as his brother-in-law listened to the beginnings of his latest song.

Matt burst out in a big smile when the music ended. “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s a real boot scooter in my book. I want to hear it the minute it’s finished. Send me the file. I’ve just completed building a recording studio on the ranch. I was taking too much time away from home, with all the touring and then following up with recording new music in Nashville. Having the studio on my property is going to let me enjoy being home more often.”

“I’ll work on this song and a couple of the other ideas we talked about,” Tucker promised as Gloria delivered their plates of food and freshened their coffee.

“You need to get yourself a lawyer, Tucker,” Matt advised. I don’t expect you’ll write exclusively for me. There’ll be other singers who’re going to want your songs. It’s not wise for us to share an attorney, but I can ask mine for a few recommendations of people who specialize in entertainment law and pass those names along to you. We’ll also need to talk numbers, too. I’d rather that be between our attorneys and my agent. Hell, you’re probably going to need one of those, too.”

“I’d appreciate any recommendations you can give me,” he said, biting into his ham, which was sweet and tender.

They spent the rest of breakfast catching up with each other. Matt also asked what Tucker’s intentions were toward Reagan.

“We’re heading for marriage,” he assured his friend. “We haven’t set a date yet. We’re both pretty darn busy. Reagan is pinch hitting while Harper is out on maternity leave. I’ve just been made a partner in my cousin’s food business, Smokin’ Sweethearts. We’re about to add a second food truck to the operation, and we also cater events held at Lost Creek Vineyards.”

“Sophie and I drink their wines. They’re really good, especially the blends.”

“That’s all Braden. He’s the chief winemaker for the label. Harper’s the one who built the event center on the winery’s property. They are a dynamic duo, with strong ties to the Lost Creek business community, and they’re a great couple to be around.”

“Sophie was really taking with little Beau,” Matt said. “She’s already hinting around that it’s time to begin baby making again.” He grinned. “You need to slip a ring on Reagan’s finger so you can catch up with us. I look at you as family, Tucker. Reagan, too. You always will be both family and friend to me.”

A lump formed in his throat, and Tucker said, “I appreciate that. More than you could ever know, Matt. I know this might sound like crazy talk, but I feel as if Josie’s been watching over me. That somehow, she brought Reagan and me together.”

He paused. “Reagan’s fiancé was killed a week before their wedding took place, so she’s known her share of heartbreak, too. I kind of think of Josie as the angel who swept her wings along, bringing us together.”

“I hear you,” Matt said. “And I don’t think that sounds crazy at all. Josie was the happiest person I ever knew. If God is letting her dabble in matchmaking as an angel, she’s probably the happiest person in heaven, too.”

They finished up breakfast, with Matt insisting upon picking up the check.

“I know this is the start of a lucrative partnership, Tucker. I’ll get those attorneys’ names to you as soon as I can, and we can draw up formal papers regarding the sale of the songs you played last weekend. Then I want first dibs on the one I heard this morning once it’s done.”

“You got it,” he said, feeling confident about his songwriting and Matt’s ability to bring a story to life through his voice and guitar playing.

Tucker went straight to Ry’s house afterward, where his cousin was turning some meat on the smoker.

“It’s got another hour before it’s ready for us to box up and take on the road,” Ry said. “Come on in so we can catch up.”

The cousins talked for an hour, mostly about ways to expand the reach of Smokin’ Sweethearts and the need to hire some new help to work the food trucks.

“Last time, I found my food truck close by. I’m sorry we had to order one from Dallas this time, but it had all the bells and whistles we needed. I got a text this morning from our salesman. It’ll be ready late next week, but I don’t know when either of has the time to get up there and drive it home. Maybe they can deliver it to us.”

“What about seeing if Uncle Shy would like to pick it up?” he suggested. “I was talking to him before lunch yesterday, and he told me he’s starting to cut back a little on his hours at Blackwood BBQ. He might like to hit the road for a little trip and take Aunt Shelly along with him.”

“You know, that’s a great idea. Let me check with him now.”

Ry called his dad and told him about needing someone to go to Dallas to pick up the newest food truck, saying it might be a nice getaway for his parents. He’d left the phone on speaker, and so Tucker heard his uncle’s response.

“Just the thing your mother and I need, Ry. We could head up there and take a couple of days to do a little Christmas shopping. Maybe even see if the Cowboys are playing at home and go see the game. Then I could drive the truck down, and Shelly could follow. Thanks for the opportunity, son.”

“I’ll know more specifics early next week. My salesman will be getting in touch with me and let me know the exact date the truck will be outfitted and ready. Talk to you soon.”

Ry grinned at Tucker. “Well, that was easy. Let’s go clear the smokers.”

They emptied the smokers, filling their pans with brisket and ribs, today’s features, and drove to the town’s square, setting up on the far end. Soon, a line formed, which surprised Tucker. He didn’t think people would be wanting something such as barbeque after a big meal yesterday, but he was glad he was proven wrong. Though the city offices were closed today, many people were out on the square, starting their Christmas shopping, taking time to stop by the food truck and grab a sandwich.

By one o’clock, they had sold out. Ry drove the truck back to his house.

“We need to be at the winery no later than four,” his cousin told Tucker. “Tonight’s menu is easy. We should be through fairly early.”

“I’ll see you at the event center in a few hours then,” Tucker said, heading back to the B&B.

He didn’t think Reagan would be home but decided to stop inside the house anyway, using the key Miss Jean had let him keep. The house was quiet as he went upstairs and knocked on Reagan’s door. No one answered, so he assumed she was at the winery, either at the Weddings with Hart office or the event center itself.

Going back downstairs, he decided he would tell Miss Jean he’d decided to propose to Reagan tonight. She was nowhere to be found, though. He knew she had to be home because he’d seen her SUV in front of the house. He wandered through the rooms downstairs again, finding them all empty.

Then a sense of dread filled him as he made his way to her bedroom door. It was closed, and he lightly tapped on it, hearing the TV playing within.

“Miss Jean? Are you in there?”

No response.

Tucker was concerned enough now that he turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door, seeing a small lamp on the nightstand lit. As he crossed the room, he saw Jean Bradley propped against the pillows, a contented smile upon her lips.

“Miss Jean?” he asked softly, touching and shaking her shoulder gently.

She didn’t move. His gut clenched.

Raising his hand, Tucker touched the back of his fingers to her cheek and felt no warmth. He slipped them to the pulse point in her throat. Still nothing.

Lifting her wrist, he gently placed his fingers along her pulse.

Jean Bradley was gone.

How in the world would he break this news to Reagan?