“And?” The sheriff clicked his pen.
She pretended to look out the window. “Francesca Beaudine.”
“Now wait a minute!” Ted exclaimed.
“The sheriff wanted a list,” she retorted. “I’m giving him a list, not making accusations.” She turned back to the sheriff. “I saw Mrs. Beaudine a little more than an hour ago at her house, so it would have been very hard for her to have done this.”
“Hard, but not impossible,” the sheriff said.
“My mother did not trash this place,” Ted declared.
“I don’t know about Ted’s father,” Meg said. “He’s hard to read.”
Now it was the sheriff who puffed up with outrage. “The great Dallas Beaudine isn’t a vandal.”
“Probably not. And I think we can safely eliminate Cornelia Jorik. It would be tough for a former president of the United States to sneak into Wynette without getting noticed.”
“She could have sent her henchmen,” Ted drawled.
“If you don’t like my list, you come up with one,” she shot back. “You know all the suspects a lot better than I do. Bottom line—somebody is sending me a clear message that they want me out of Wynette.”
The sheriff looked at Ted. “How about it, Ted?”
Ted shoved his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe any of these people would do anything so ugly. What about somebody you work with at the club?”
“Those are my only positive relationships.”
The sheriff flipped his notebook closed. “Miz Koranda, you shouldn’t stay here by yourself. Not until this thing is settled.”
“Believe me, she’s not going to stay,” Ted said.
The sheriff promised to talk to the police chief. Ted walked him out to his squad car, and Meg’s cell rang in her purse. When she glanced at the display, she saw it was her mother, the last person she should talk to right now and the person whose voice she most wanted to hear.
She moved through her trashed kitchen and out the back door. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How’s the job?”
“Great. Really great.” She sank down on the step. The cement still carried the day’s heat, and she felt its warmth through Torie O’Connor’s castoff skirt.
“Your dad and I are so proud of you.”
Her mother was still under the illusion that Meg was the activities coordinator at the club, something she’d have to correct very soon. “Honestly, it’s not much of a job.”
“Hey, I know better than anyone what it’s like to work with giant egos, and you have to see a lot of that at a country club. Which brings me to the reason I called. I have some great news.”
“Belinda died and left me all her money.”
“You wish. No, your grandmother will live forever. She’s one of the undead. The great news is . . . Your father and I are coming to visit you.”
Oh, God . . . Meg jumped up from the step. A dozen ugly images flashed through her head. The ripped sofa cushions . . . The broken glass . . . The drink cart . . . The faces of everyone who held a grudge against her.
“We miss you, and we want to see you,” her mother said. “We want to meet your new friends. We’re so proud of the way you’ve turned things around for yourself.”
“That’s . . . that’s great.”
“We have some scheduling we need to work out, but we’ll settle that soon. A low-key visit. Just a day or so. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, Mom.” She’d have time to clean up the mess inside, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. What about her job? She assessed the probability of being promoted to activities coordinator before their visit and concluded she had a better chance of being invited to Birdie’s house for a slumber party. She shuddered at the thought of introducing her parents to Ted. It didn’t take much imagination to picture her mother falling to her knees and begging Ted not to wise up.
She picked the most straightforward of her troubles. “Mom, there’s just one thing . . . My job. It’s not that impressive.”
“Meg, stop putting yourself down. I can’t change the fact that you’ve grown up in a family of wacko overachievers. We’re the strange ones. You’re a normal, intelligent, beautiful woman who let herself get sidetracked by all the craziness around her. But that’s behind you now. You’ve made a fresh start, and we couldn’t be prouder. I have to run. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Meg said weakly. And then, after her mother had hung up: “Mom, I’m a cart girl, not the activities coordinator. But my jewelry’s selling great.”
The back door opened, and Ted appeared. “I’ll send somebody tomorrow to clean up.”
“No,” she said wearily. “I don’t want anyone to see this.”
He understood. “Then stay out here and relax. I’ll deal with it.”
All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and think about everything that had happened, but she’d spent too many years letting other people clean up after her. “I’m fine. Let me change my clothes first.”
“You shouldn’t have to do this.”
“Neither should you.” That kind, beautiful face made her ache. A few weeks ago, she’d have asked herself what a man like Ted was doing with a woman like her, but something had started to happen inside her, a sense of accomplishment that had begun to make her feel just a little bit worthy.
He dragged the ruined futon outside, followed by the damaged couch and chairs she’d gotten from the club. He cracked a few jokes as he worked to lift her spirits. She swept up broken glass, examining it so she didn’t accidentally throw away any of her precious beads. When she was satisfied, she went into the kitchen to clean up the mess there, but he’d already done it.
By the time they were finished, it was nearly dark, and they were both hungry. They carried the luncheon leftovers and two bottles of beer into the graveyard and spread everything out on one of the bath towels. They ate directly from the containers, their forks occasionally touching. She needed to talk about what had happened at his mother’s house, but she waited until they were finished before she broached the subject. “You should never have done what you did at the luncheon.”
He leaned against Horace Ernst’s tombstone. “And what was that?”
“Don’t play games. Kissing me.” She worked to suppress the exhilaration that still wanted to bubble over inside her. “By now, it’s all over town that we’re a couple. Spence and Sunny won’t be back for more than five minutes before they’ll hear about it.”
“You let me worry about Spence and Sunny.”
“How could you do something so stupid?” So wonderful.
Ted extended his legs toward the Mueller plot. “I want you to move in with me for a while.”
“Are you paying attention to anything I’m saying?”
“Everybody knows about us now. There’s no reason not to move in.”
After all he’d done for her, she couldn’t fight with him any longer. She picked up a stick and peeled the bark with her thumbnail. “I appreciate the offer, but moving in with you would be like thumbing my nose at your mother.”
“I’ll take care of my mother,” he said grimly. “I love her, but she doesn’t run my life.”
“Yeah, that’s what we all say. You. Me. Lucy.” She stabbed the stick into the dirt. “These are powerful women. They’re sane, they’re smart, they rule their worlds, and they love us ferociously. A potent combination that makes it tough to pretend they’re normal mothers.”
“You’re not staying here alone. You don’t even have a place to sleep.”
She gazed through the trees toward the trash pile that now held her futon. Whoever had done this wasn’t going to stop, not as long as Meg stayed in Wynette. “All right,” she said. “But only for tonight.”
She followed him back to his house in the Rustmobile. They’d barely gotten inside before he drew her to his chest and made a one-handed phone call. “Mom, somebody broke into the church and trashed the place, so Meg’ll be staying with me for a couple of days. Y
ou scare her, I’m mad at you, and you’re not welcome here right now, so leave us alone.” He hung up.
“She doesn’t scare me,” Meg protested. “Not much, anyway.”
He kissed her on the nose, turned her in the general direction of the stairs, and patted her bottom, lingering on the dragon. “As much as I hate saying this, you’re dead on your feet. Go to bed. I’ll be up later.”
“Hot date?”
“Even better. I’m going to rig up a surveillance camera at the church.” His voice developed a hard edge. “Something I’d have done right away if you’d told me about the first break-in.”
She wasn’t foolish enough to try to defend herself. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on the bamboo floor. After everything that had happened today, this time would be different. This time he’d touch something other than her body.
She rolled on top of him, grabbed his head between her hands, and kissed him ferociously. He kissed her back with his customary competency. Aroused her with his intoxicating ingenuity. Left her sweaty and breathless and almost . . . but not quite . . . satisfied.
Chapter Seventeen
Meg wasn’t used to air-conditioning, and with only a sheet covering her, she got chilly during the night. She curled against Ted, and when she opened her eyes, it was morning.
She rolled to her side to study him. He was as irresistible asleep as awake. He had the best kind of bed head, a little flat here, a little spiky there, and her fingers itched to sort it out. She studied the distinct tan line across his bicep. No respectable Southern California glamour boy would be caught dead with a tan line like that, but Ted wouldn’t spare it a thought. She pressed her lips to it.
He rolled to his back, dragging part of the sheet with him, and stirring up the musky scent of their sleeping bodies. She was instantly aroused, but she needed to be at the club soon, and she forced herself out of bed. By now, everyone would know all about what had happened at the luncheon yesterday, and it wouldn’t occur to any of them to blame Ted for that kiss. A day full of problems stretched in front of her.
She was stocking the cart for the Tuesday morning women golfers when Torie emerged from the locker room. With her ponytail swinging, she marched toward Meg and, in typical Torie fashion, got down to business. “Obviously, you can’t stay at the church after what happened, and you sure can’t stay at Ted’s, so we all decided the best thing is for you to move into Shelby’s guest suite. I lived there between my first two unfortunate marriages. It’s private and comfortable, plus it has its own kitchen, something you wouldn’t have if you stayed with Emma or me.” She set off for the pro shop, ponytail bouncing, and then called over her shoulder, “Shelby’s expecting you by six. She gets upset when people are late.”
“Hold on!” Meg stalked after her. “I’m not moving into your childhood home.”
Torie planted her hand on her hip, looking as serious as Meg had ever seen her. “You can not stay at Ted’s.”
Meg already knew that, but she hated being ordered around. “Contrary to popular belief, none of you get a vote. And I’m going back to the church.”
Torie snorted. “Do you really think he’ll let you do that after what happened?”
“Ted doesn’t let me do anything.” She stomped back to the cart. “Thank Shelby for her generosity, but I’ve made my plans.”
Torie came after her. “Meg, you can’t move in with Ted. You really can’t.”
Meg pretended not to hear and drove off.
She wasn’t up to working on her jewelry while she waited for customers, so she pulled out a copy of American Earth she’d borrowed from Ted, but not even the words of the country’s most astute environmentalists could hold her attention. She set the book aside as the first foursome of women appeared.
“Meg, we heard about the break-in.”
“You must have been terrified.”
“Who do you think did it?”
“I’ll bet they wanted to get to your jewelry.”
She scooped ice into paper cups, poured drinks, and answered their questions as briefly as she could. Yes, it was scary. No, she didn’t have any idea who’d done it. Yes, she intended to be a lot more careful in the future.
When the next foursome appeared, she heard more of the same, but it still didn’t sink in right away. Only after they were all out on the fairway did it occur to her that not one of those eight women had mentioned Ted’s kiss at the luncheon or his declaration that he and Meg were a couple.
She didn’t understand it. The women in this town loved nothing more than to pry into other people’s business, especially Ted’s, so politeness wasn’t holding them back. What was going on?
She didn’t put the pieces together until the next foursome began pulling their carts up to the tee. And then she understood.
None of the women she’d spoken to had been at the luncheon, and they didn’t know. The twenty guests who’d witnessed what had happened had formed a conspiracy of silence.
She sank back into the cart and tried to imagine the telephone lines buzzing last night. She could hear each of Francesca’s guests swearing on her Bible, or the latest issue of InStyle magazine, not to breathe a word to anyone. Twenty gossipy Wynette women had taken a vow of silence. It couldn’t last, not under normal circumstances. But where Ted was concerned, it just might.
She served the next group, and sure enough, they only talked about the break-in, with no mention of Ted. But that changed half an hour later when the final group, a twosome, pulled up. As soon as she saw the women getting out of the cart, she knew this conversation would be different. Both of them had been at the luncheon. Both of them had seen what had transpired. And they were both coming toward her with decidedly unfriendly grimaces on their faces.
The shorter of the two, a leathery brunette everybody called Cookie, got right to the point. “We all know you’re the one behind that break-in at the church, and we know why.”
Meg should have seen this coming, but she hadn’t.
The taller woman yanked on her golf glove. “You wanted to move in with him, and he didn’t want you to, so you decided to make it impossible for him to refuse. You trashed your own place before you went to work that morning at Francesca’s.”
“You can’t really believe that,” Meg said.
Cookie yanked a club from her bag without getting her customary drink. “You didn’t really think you could pull this off, did you?”
After they left, Meg stomped around the tee for a while, then slumped down on the wooden bench by the tee marker. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock, and ripples of heat already hung in the air. She should leave. She had no prospects here. No real friends. No job worth doing. But she was staying anyway. She was staying because the man she’d fallen so stupidly in love with had jeopardized the future of this town he cared so much about to let the world know how important she was to him.
She hugged the knowledge to her heart.
Her cell began to ring not long after. The first call came from Ted. “I hear the local female mafia is trying to get you out of my house,” he said. “Don’t pay attention to them. You’re staying with me, and I hope you’re planning to make something good for dinner.” A long pause. “I’ll take care of dessert.”
Her next call came from Spence, so she didn’t answer, but he left a message saying he’d be back in two days, and he’d be sending a limo to pick her up for dinner. After that Haley called asking Meg to meet her at the snack shop on her two o’clock break. When Meg got there, she found an unwelcome surprise in the form of Birdie Kittle sitting across from her daughter at one of the green metal bistro tables.
Birdie was dressed for work in an aubergine knit suit. She’d draped the jacket over the back of the chair, revealing a white camisole and plump, lightly freckled arms. Haley hadn’t bothered with makeup, which would have improved her appearance if she hadn’t been so pale and tense. She jumped up from the table like a jack-in-the-box. “Mom has something to tell you.”
Meg didn’t want to hear anything Birdie Kittle had to say, but she took the empty chair between them. “How are you feeling?” she asked Haley. “Better than yesterday, I hope.”
“Okay.” Haley sat back down and started picking at the chocolate chip cookie lying on a square of waxed paper in front of her. Meg recalled the conversation she’d overheard at the luncheon.
“Haley was with that Kyle Bascom again last night,” Birdie had said. “I swear to God, if she gets pregnant . . .”
Last week, Meg had seen Haley in the parking lot with a gangly kid about her own age, but when she’d mentioned it, Haley had been evasive.
She broke off a piece of the cookie. Meg had tried selling those same cookies from the cart, but the chips kept melting. “Go ahead, Mom,” Haley said. “Ask her.”
Birdie’s mouth pinched, and her gold bracelet clinked against the edge of the table. “I heard about the break-in at the church.”
“Yes, it seems everybody has.”
Birdie ripped off the straw wrapper and poked it into her soft drink. “I talked to Shelby a couple of hours ago. It was nice of her to invite you to stay at her house. She didn’t have to, you know.”
Meg kept her response neutral. “I realize that.”
Birdie pushed the straw through the ice. “Since it doesn’t seem as though you’re willing to stay there, Haley thought . . .”
“Mom!” Haley shot her a murderous look.
“Well, pardon meee. I thought you might be more comfortable at the inn. It’s closer to the club than Shelby’s, so you wouldn’t have to drive as far to work, and I’m not booked up right now.” Birdie jabbed at the bottom of the paper cup hard enough to poke a hole through it. “You can stay in the Jasmine Room, my compliments. There’s a kitchenette that you might remember from all the times you cleaned it.”
“Mom!” Color flooded Haley’s pale face. There was a frantic air about her that worried Meg. “Mom wants you to stay. It’s not just me.”
Meg highly doubted that, but it meant a lot that Haley valued their friendship enough to stand up to her mother. She took a piece of the cookie Haley wasn’t eating. “I appreciate the offer, but I already have plans.”