Wishes and Stitches Read Free

eggs were stone cold now. No hope for them. She pushed the plate away and looked around for Shirley. More coffee was the only thing she needed. But Shirley had followed Elbert and Rig into the ranchers’ room, and if Naomi leaned her head back a little, she could just hear what was being said.
    Elbert introduced him, and a volley of greetings was exchanged.
    â€œRig Keller!” said Pete Wegman, one of the old ranchers. “You’re Captain Keller’s brother, ain’tcha?”
    A mumble of something Naomi couldn’t quite hear. Dammit. She wanted to catch this.
    â€œThat’s Jesse, and Landers, Hooper’s over there. That’s Cade, on the right.”
    â€œHowdy.” Naomi recognized Cade MacArthur’s voice. She’d treated him for a knee injury a few months ago. He’d been what she privately termed an im-patient, but his wife, Abigail, had seemed kind. Naomi had ached, then, to tell Abigail who she was, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time.
    Naomi missed something else from the back room, and then heard, “Nah, it’s just a dumb nickname my brother gave me when I started working on the oil derricks. But it stuck, and I kind of like it now.” Then he said something she couldn’t hear, and an appreciative wave of laughter rolled through the ranchers’ room.
    Good lord, what if he stayed?
    Naomi missed something under the clatter of Shirley picking up dishes and putting them in the bus tub, but then she heard Rig go on.
    â€œNo, not with my brother. Staying with Shirley here, actually.”
    Shirley? She hadn’t mentioned she’d rented out her back unit, although Naomi knew she’d been advertising it. Not that she was required to tell Naomi anything, really, but . . . Naomi heard Shirley, sixty-five years old next month, giggle like a schoolgirl.
    â€œOh,” said one of the older men. “We were sure sorry about your brother’s wife a few years back.”
    The rumble of a trash truck going by the window covered Rig’s response, and Naomi suddenly felt guilty for eavesdropping. She wished for the hundredth time that she was comfortable knitting in public, but she wasn’t. That’s just the way it was. So she fiddled with the cord of her headphones—she never listened to her iPod while she was at the cafe, knowing that would be too antisocial, but she kept the device near her. One of these days, with the way she worked the cord between her hands, she’d end up finger-knitting it into a tiny plastic noose, and what then?
    So what if he was in Cypress Hollow? So what if he’d been introduced to the ranchers, and she had never actually met any of them in person, just knew them from eavesdropping? Dr. Pederson and she were going to hire a new doctor soon, and then she’d watch that person, see if she or he fit into the town better than she did. Until then she’d try not to worry.
    Old Bill trundled by, rag in hand. Naomi couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen him anywhere but behind the cash register. She hadn’t really been aware that he had legs.
    Naomi disentangled her fingers from the headphone cord and held out a hand. There was no time like right now to be friendly. Right? It had been easy with Rig—maybe it would be with the owner of the diner, too.
    â€œBill?”
    Old Bill stopped, stock still, eyes still forward as if he didn’t quite believe she was speaking to him.
    Naomi’s pulse fluttered at her throat, and she felt breathless. But she spoke anyway. “Hey, if you’re going back there, would you mind telling everyone that I’ll be having a free blood sugar check on Friday night? At the health clinic I just opened next to my office. They might . . .” She ran out of smart ideas. “They might want to get that done. You, too.”
    Old Bill stared at her. “You sayin’ my food isn’t healthy?”
    Naomi sucked in a