Love Finds You in Last Chance, California by Miralee Ferrell Page B

followed his hostess two strides down a short hall to the doorway of a side room. His glance took in the green curtains and half-raised window. This must be the room he’d seen from the road. Clean and tidy like he’d expected, it was sparsely furnished with a small sofa, two button-backed rosewood chairs, and a round side table. A picture of a farm graced the mantel above the fireplace in the middle of the far wall, and a large braided rug claimed the room’s center, its deep green and yellow hues bringing both color and a sense of tranquillity to the area.
    Miss Rice bustled into the room and beckoned Justin over to the flowered sofa under the window. She reached up and drew down the sash, dimming the evening light, and patted the seat. “Lay him down here.”
    Justin bent and placed his sleeping son on the brocaded surface. The tiny woman placed a knitted afghan over the boy, tucking it under his chin with gentle fingers. She touched her finger to her lips and nodded toward the door. Justin followed her back into the hall, still within sight of Toby.
    Miss Rice swung toward him and crossed her arms over her bosom. “What’s your name, young man? You wanting a room for the night?”
    Justin swept his hat off his head and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Yes, ma’am. The boy and I would like to stay for a few days, if you have room and don’t mind taking a child.”
    Her eyebrows shot up into her unkempt hair, the only thing that appeared out of order in what he’d seen of this tidy home so far. “Mind? Of course I don’t mind. I’d never turn a child away. Never. Can’t say as much for a lot of parents, but children have to come first. Yes, sir, they do.” She jerked her head down the hall and crooked a finger at him. “Follow me. What’d you say your name was?”
    “Phillips, ma’am. Justin Phillips.” He followed her down the hall, glancing into another small room. A table set for six nearly filled the space opening onto the roomy kitchen.
    “It’s Alice Rice, not ma’am. But you can call me Miss Alice. Most folks do.” She stepped through the kitchen doorway that led into the dining room and pulled out a straight-backed chair. “Have a seat. Coffee?”
    “Yes, ma’am—I mean, Miss Alice. I’d appreciate that.” He placed his hat on the neighboring chair and took the seat offered. “Nice place you have here.” Lace-edged curtains trimmed the window, and the glass sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The top of the pine table was waxed to a high shine, revealing the craftsmanship and care someone had lavished on the sturdy piece of furniture.
    Miss Alice bustled into the kitchen and pulled open a cupboard door, exposing a stack of plates and bowls. She reached for two dark brown mugs and stepped across the kitchen to the wood stove in the corner. A coffeepot sat on the metal grate. Grasping the handle with a towel, she poured the mugs to the brim and set one in front of Justin.
    Finally, she pulled out a chair and sank onto its hard surface with a sigh. “My feet aren’t what they used to be.” The cup of coffee sitting beside her went untouched, but she waved at Justin, urging him to drink. “What brings you and the boy to town?”
    “We’ve been traveling for the past two weeks, and this looked like a nice spot to stop for a while,” he hedged. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed to catch the fact that he’d avoided answering her question directly.
    “That your boy?” Her tone sharpened and she leaned her bony elbows on the table, peering at him through her eyeglasses.
    Justin took a sip of the hot brew and set the cup back on the table. “He is. His name’s Toby and he’s just three. His mother died awhile back and I’m hoping to find someone to help with his care.” There. He’d said more than he’d planned or wanted, but this woman didn’t look like someone who’d give up easily when on the hunt for information.
    She tilted back in her chair and