Free Christmas on My Mind by Janet Dailey Page B

be more than a passel of preachers and social worker types have been able to do.”
    â€œI know it won’t be easy,” Jess said. “But she’s my mother. All I can do is try.”
    â€œHere we are.” Silas pulled up in front of the garage. Jess followed him inside and paid for the repairs and the tow, which totaled out to the exact, reasonable amount of his estimate. Opening the trunk, she found the quilted coat she’d left there and slipped into its warmth.
    The Pontiac started up fine. Jess pulled away from the garage and headed for the jail to see Francine. With luck, Ben would be there too. Maybe he’d have time later to look at the house with her. She could certainly use a second pair of eyes and a cooler head than her own.
    But what was she thinking? Ben was responsible for the safety of the whole county. Just because he’d come to her rescue and taken her under his roof didn’t mean she could ask for his help whenever she needed it.
    As she pulled into the parking lot on the jail side of the county building she noticed the sheriff’s big, tan SUV parked in its reserved spot along the curb. Jess willed herself to ignore her quickening pulse. Of course Ben would be here. He worked here. And he’d probably be too busy to pay her much attention. Anyway, she hadn’t come to see him. She’d come to see her mother.
    Should she mention the house to Francine or wait till it was a sure decision? Preoccupied with the thought, she opened the outer door and pressed the buzzer to be admitted through the second door into the jail.
    â€œYes?” The intercom crackled. She recognized the no-nonsense voice of the female deputy she’d met the day before.
    â€œJessica Ramsey. I’m here to see Francine.”
    â€œOne moment please.”
    Jess was preparing herself to be frisked again when the door opened and Ben stood there, as big as a barn door and as gorgeous as a Roman god. His dimple deepened as he gave her a smile. “Hey, I see your car’s fixed,” he said.
    â€œIt is. And the fix was even affordable.”
    â€œI told you Silas was a good guy. Come on in.” He held the door for her.
    â€œDo I need to be patted down again?” Was she secretly wishing he’d do the job?
    â€œYou’re fine,” he said, handing her purse to the woman at the counter. “Francine’s the only one in lockup today, and nobody in their right mind would break her out of here before her time’s up.”
    â€œAbout that,” Jess said. “Can we talk for a minute before I see her again?”
    â€œSure.” He opened the door to his office, ushered her inside and offered her a chair across from his desk. “If you’ve had a change of heart, I wouldn’t blame you. Yesterday had to be pretty rough.”
    â€œNothing’s changed,” Jess said. “In fact, I’ve come up with a plan. I hadn’t meant to talk to you about it, but as long as you’re here, I could use some cool-headed advice.”
    â€œI’m listening.” Sarsaparilla—that was the name of the old-fashioned root beer that matched his eyes.
    â€œHere’s the thing,” she said. “I’ll be needing a place to live and a way to make money. Once she’s out of jail, so will Francine. And she’ll have a better chance at recovery if she’s got something to do.”
    Ben frowned. “Sounds like a pretty tall order. What’ve you got in mind?”
    â€œI’ve found an old house!” As she spoke, Jess could feel her enthusiasm mounting. “I’ve already talked with the owner. With the money my father left me, I can make the down payment and fix the place up into a bed-and-breakfast! Francine can help me!”
    â€œWhoa there.” He was shaking his head, half laughing.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Don’t you think I can do it?”
    â€œJudging by what I’ve seen of