Blame It On Texas (8 page)

“No.” Her mother sighed. “I’ve tried so hard to get her to move into town with me, but you know how stubborn she is. And she makes me feel
ridiculous for worrying about her after we argue about it.”

“She loves that place.”

“Kate, honey, it hasn’t always been a bed of roses out there for Gran.”

“Because?”

“Gran’s first husband wasn’t anything to shake a stick at.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t know how she did it. My father—Mother’s second husband—ran the grocery store. We lived in town until my father retired.”

“And that’s when they moved back to the ranch?”

“Yes. Your grandmother always ran the place, even when I was a little girl. We all spent weekends out there. She always was a really hard worker.”

“She’s a very strong person,” Kate said, wishing she had just one-tenth of that strength. Here she was, a twenty-seven-year-old woman in the prime of her life, and she felt ridiculously exhausted at the end of each day. “Why are you upset about her writing her memoirs, Mom? Do we really
have
family secrets?”

“I guess I don’t want everyone knowing our business,” she said, but Kate wondered if there was more to it than that.

“But Gran’s life is so unique, and she’s lived so long.”

“Long enough to know that you shouldn’t go stirring up the past and making folks remember things.”

“Remember things like what?”

Silence greeted that answer, so Kate tried again. “Was her first husband a criminal or something?”

“I am not going to discuss this with you, Kate.”

Bingo. The first husband, Hal Johnson, must have done something very wrong. And Martha didn’t want it rehashed, though he’d been dead long before Martha was born. Why would Martha be embarrassed by anything that Hal had done? It didn’t make sense, but maybe Gran would explain it all.

“Okay,” Kate said, then changed the subject. “Gran seems to be getting around pretty well, don’t you think? And her mind is just as sharp as it ever was.”

“I go out there every morning and every evening,” Martha said, her voice breaking as if she was trying not to cry. “Or sometimes I come out and spend the afternoon. It would be so much easier if she would move into town. I worry so.”

“What can I do to help? I know a week isn’t much but—”

“Would you stay with your grandmother out at the ranch for a few days?

“Of course,” Kate replied, glancing toward her mother. “Is that all?”

“It’s a lot,” she said. “Not that I don’t want you at the house with me, but if you were there I wouldn’t worry so much. And your grandmother listens to you. If
you
tell her she needs to move off of the ranch, she might just do it.”

“I don’t want to force her to leave the Lazy K, Mom.” In fact, she couldn’t picture her grandmother anywhere else but puttering around the old ranch house and wearing one of her faded print cotton dresses.

“None of us may have a choice much longer, Kate,” her mother warned. “One fall, one false step…it scares me to think of all the things that could happen to her and no one would be there to help her.”

“Dustin told me he doesn’t live in the foreman’s house because it’s too far away from Gran. The bunkhouse is only a short walk from the main house.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I think he looks out for her,” she said, picturing him hovering over her at the party. He was just as handsome as he ever was, she thought. More so, even. And the boy looked just like him. Each time she looked at him she remembered the pain she’d felt when she’d heard about Lisa Gallagher and her
pregnancy. She shook off the memory. “Grandma loves having that little boy around.”

“He seems nice enough. I imagine he reminds her of your uncle Hank at that age.”

“No one ever really talks about Hank. What was he like?” Her mother’s half brother had died several years before Martha married Ian McIntosh.

“Hank liked a good time,” was all Martha would say. Before much longer they were driving past the crowded Steak Barn, then through town and onto Knight Street. Two blocks took them to “A Street,” toward the two-story Victorian that had been Kate’s home from the day she was born. Pale yellow with black shutters, it sat with other grand homes in the section of town referred to as “The Park,” since its four blocks were a dead end, a self-contained area within the city.

The McIntosh house faced the park, with a view of grass, benches and a small play area for the local toddlers in the far northeast corner, across the street from what used to be the town’s elementary school and now housed the Good Day Preschool.

“It’s still so quiet here,” Kate said, pulling the car into the driveway and parking in front of the garage. “Not like New York at all.”

“Even Saturday nights aren’t too wild in Beauville,” Martha said, opening the car door. “My bed is sure going to feel good tonight.”

“You must have worked so hard on the party. It was great.”

“Thanks, honey. I’m lucky. How many people get to give their mother a ninetieth birthday party?” She smiled at Kate before stepping out of the car. “If you’ll open the trunk I’ll get the food out that needs to be refrigerated.”

“I’ll do it,” Kate said. “Go on in and get the lights on.” Her mother didn’t argue, and instead went up the steps to the front porch. Soon the lights came on both inside and out, illuminating the tall windows and their lace curtains. A storybook house, Kate had always thought, filled with lovely polished silver and velvet-covered couches and gleaming cherry furniture. Her home had always smelled of furniture polish, not an unpleasant scent, but Kate had preferred the smell of hay and horses on her grandmother’s ranch.

She didn’t go inside right away. Instead she listened to the silence and became accustomed to a street devoid of taxis and traffic. Peaceful, Kate knew, unlike her life in the city.
Loves of Our Lives
was in turmoil, with a new director and executive producer. The writers had been told to come up with something spectacular for the November sweeps.

She thought of Gran’s suggestion to bring in some Texas cowboys. Yes, the show needed a new hero.

Who didn’t?

CHAPTER SEVEN

“I
’D BE GLAD TO
come with you.” Kate watched her mother fuss over her hair in the hall mirror. They’d spent a hurried breakfast together and now her mother was rushing off to church.

“Honey, I would rather you spent the time with Gran. She’ll be expecting you, you know. And aren’t you supposed to stop in and see Emily?”

“Yes. But I could wait an hour or so.”

“I’m off,” her mother said, ignoring the offer. She picked up her purse and tucked a tissue inside.

“I’ll pick something up for dinner,” Kate offered. Her mother wore a fashionable navy linen dress that disguised her plump figure and made her seem younger than sixty-four years old. “I’ve never seen you wear that color before. You look nice.”

“Well, thank you,” she said, smiling. “I try. And don’t worry about dinner. I’ll meet you out at the ranch later on.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“I’ll get a ride,” she said, sounding more mysterious than a retired town clerk should sound.

“Okay.” She watched her mother hurry out the front door as if she couldn’t wait to get away. Usually when Kate was home she followed her everywhere. Kate would bet a week’s salary that this had something to do with Carl Jackson, the romancing land developer. She couldn’t picture her mother involved with any man, but the pudgy businessman who’d shaken her hand yesterday didn’t look like someone her mother would fall for. And she couldn’t envision her mother with anyone other than her sweet-tempered father, the quiet store owner with the patience of a saint. What on earth was the matter with the woman?

“S
O, WHAT DID
I
MISS
at the birthday party?” Emily, her round face puffy from pregnancy, gave Kate a wicked grin. “Any romantic reunions? Unrequited longing? Lust? What?”

“Your hormone levels must be a mess,” Kate told her, laughing as she sat across from Emily in her friend’s tiny kitchen. George had taken the children to visit his mother for a while so Emily could get some rest. “Your imagination is just getting worse.”

“Ha,” she said, shifting in her chair so she could rest her legs on the seat of the chair next to hers. “You saw Dustin, right? And it’s been
eight—nine—years. And he’s still as handsome as sin, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“As handsome as those New York actors you boss around?”

“Those New York actors are either married or gay,” Kate said. “Maybe Dustin’s married. He has a boy.”

“Not married,” Emily said. “George said.” And if George said it, then it was fact. The man knew everything that went on in three counties. “So he’s all yours for the taking.”

“Oh, Em. I don’t want him.” She was no longer stupid, she hoped. Or gullible. She now knew that when a man said, “No commitments, no strings,” he meant exactly what he said.

“I don’t know about that. Some things don’t change that much,” Emily said, patting her belly. “Except for my stomach, which keeps getting bigger.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, grateful for the change in subject.

“Fine, unfortunately. I had false labor pains yesterday, which is why we missed the party. I knew it wasn’t the real thing, but George made me go to bed and rest.”

“You didn’t miss much. A cake with candles blazing, my mother making eyes at Carl Jackson, Dustin’s little boy getting his picture taken with
my grandmother, Elizabeth and Jake looking happy and ready to be parents, Lorna Sheridan with a cute little baby.” She took a sip of coffee. “I understand you all know each other.”

“Lorna and Elizabeth are great,” Emily said. “And eager recipients of all of my maternal advice. And I have a lot of advice.”

“Do you have any for me?”

“Yes. Come home and make babies, too. Think of the fun we could have.”

“Any other advice?”

“Make those teenagers on the show behave. That little blond gal—Becky?—needs to be grounded, or locked in her room.” Emily looked over at the shopping bag Kate had brought with her. “Did you bring food?”

“Better than food,” Kate declared, bending down to lift a gift-wrapped box out of the bag. “Saks.”

“Be still my heart. And tell me it’s something that doesn’t have a waist.”

“Would I do that to you? Open it.” Every summer she brought her best friend something outrageously New York and chic, something meant to make Emily laugh. But this time Kate had opted for something less flamboyant. She watched as her friend ripped off the paper and lifted the lid of the dress box to reveal a buttercup yellow linen sundress.

“Oh, Kate, it’s beautiful.”

“Calf-length, machine washable, with buttons up the front. It’s for after you have the baby.” She helped move the wrappings away and shoved the paper into the shopping bag. Poor Emily could barely move. “And it doesn’t have a waist, I promise. Waists aren’t in this year.”

“Thank goodness.” She held it up and grinned. “I absolutely love it, Kate. You know redheads love yellow.”

“If it doesn’t fit I can exchange it when I get back, so hurry up and have the baby so you can try it on.”

“I told George I’d take a long walk today, to get things going. Want to come?” She carefully folded the dress and tucked it back into the box.

“I can’t. I’m heading out to the ranch.”

Emily giggled. “Of course you are.”

“To help my grandmother, Em, not to ogle the hired help.”

“There are rumors she’s going to sell him the place, you know.”

“Rumors,” Kate repeated. “That’s all they are, because she hasn’t said anything to me about selling.” And selling was something her grandmother would never do. “The only thing she’s told me is that she’s writing a book.”

“A book about what?”

Kate rose and, making herself at home at Emily’s
as she always had, refilled their coffee cups. “Her life, the story of the town. I’m not really sure, but she wants to meet Katie Couric and be on television.”

Emily laughed. “If anyone can do it, it’s Grandma Gert.”

“My mother is having a fit. She thinks Gran is going to spill the family secrets.”

“You mean she knows what you and Dustin were doing in the drive-in that summer?” Her belly went up and down as she laughed. “Now
that
would make interesting reading.”

“I really hope you give birth to triplets.”

“Unrequited lust must be making you a teeny bit vindictive,” Emily said. “You’d better hurry up and get out to the ranch before I make you my birthing coach.”

“Birthing coach?” she echoed. “Are you having contractions?”

“I will,” Em promised, “if you keep making me laugh like this.” She patted her belly and spoke as if talking to the child inside. “Don’t mind Auntie Kate. She’s never been able to resist a cowboy.”

“I can resist,” Kate promised. “I’m not going to be around long enough to get into trouble.”

“We’ll see,” her friend said, smiling as if she knew exactly how flustered Kate felt whenever Dustin Jones was in the vicinity.

T
HE BOY GREETED
her when Kate drove up in the yard. He clutched a dirty metal truck and gave her one of his shy smiles as she climbed out of the Lincoln. Oh, yes, she thought. His father all over again, and Kate willed herself to resist the kid’s charm—which wasn’t going to be easy, because he was staring up at her as if she was a goddess.

“Hi.” It was surprisingly nice to be a goddess, even when it was this particular kid making her feel that way.

“Hi,” Danny answered, falling into step beside her as she headed toward the kitchen door.

“How are you this morning?” she asked, wondering why she had an escort. She wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him. She didn’t really want to talk to the boy.

“Good.”

“It’s a nice day to play with your truck,” Kate said, hesitating in front of the kitchen door. She wondered if he waited to be invited inside. She surprised herself by inviting him. “Did you want to come in?”

“Okay.” He hurried to hold the door open for her, and Kate struggled to keep a straight face. He was so serious about being a gentleman, even though he was covered in a layer of Texas dust and had a cowlick sticking straight up from the back of his head. The truck came right into the kitchen with him.