Deep Dixie (14 page)

Riley opened his mouth, determined to guide the conversation back to the question of his meeting the family, but Greenhow cut him off.

“
That
’
s why you are sitting here today, Mr. Walker, instead of one of a dozen other men who have the inclination, the insight, and wherewithal to make this happen.
”

Riley leaned back in his chair. If the hog slop got any deeper in here, he
’
d need wading boots just to get out the door.
“
Get to your point, Mr. Greenhow.
”

“
My point, Mr. Walker, is that you are being handed an opportunity that a lot of men struggle all their lives to try to achieve but never can quite get their fingers on.
”

Including Greenhow himself, Riley
’
s gut feeling told him. Perhaps Greenhow saw him as a means to an end, making himself the go-to guy in the deal-of-the-decade as far as this town was concerned. The lawyer clearly harbored no respect or affection for John Frederick
’
s daughter, and Riley had to wonder if the lawyer meant to use him to get back at her for whatever wrong he thought she
’
d done. Riley also had no doubt that if he refused this dream deal, this slick attorney would find another way to get to Dixie Fulton-Leigh.

Riley imagined someone trying a back-end sneak like this to take advantage of Wendy, who could one day conceivably be in the same position as Miss Fulton-Leigh. How would he feel if someone had no problem running roughshod over Wendy, or his mother...or his sister, to fulfill his own agenda? His stomach knotted and his muscles tightened. Anger and outrage swelled up in him, just as they had when Carol suggested they trash his sister in order to make him look better. No real man would stand by and let either of these things happen.

John Frederick Fulton-Leigh could not watch out for his only child now, but Riley could. He
could do what was best for both Wendy and Dixie in one decisive move. Only he stood between slimy Howard Greenhow and the woman he had never met but who suddenly represented all the women he loved rolled into one.

He stood and stuck out his hand.
“
Let
’
s go ahead with it, Mr. Greenhow. How quickly can you get me a contract?
”

* * *

“
Could you hurry it along a little, maybe?
”

The pharmacist peered down at Dixie from behind the raised wooden counter with a look that could have frozen fire.

“
Please?
”
Dixie folded her hands together and tried to look demure and deferential when what she really felt was crabby and cantankerous. What had begun as a mad dash to run an urgent errand during her fifteen-minute lunch hour had slowed to a dead crawl, with time running out.

“
Sorry, but it can
’
t be helped. Since your Aunt Sis didn
’
t drop off Miss Lettie
’
s medicine bottle, I have to look up the prescription, fill it, make a label, pretty much start from scratch. And there
’
s three other folks called in ahead of you. You
’
ll just have to wait your turn.
”

Dixie gritted her teeth at Noni Philpot
’
s scolding schoolmarm tone. Noni was the sourest-faced woman you
’
d ever want to catch sight of, with a disposition that made her always- dour expression seem downright pleasant by comparison. And she treated just about everyone who came through the doors of her understocked, overpriced drugstore like she wished they
’
d just up and take their business elsewhere. Of course, in their tiny town, there was no
elsewhere
to go.

Dixie sighed.

Whap
! No telling what Noni had slapped against the counter, but it sure did work for making Dixie want to get out of there, even more than anything the surly woman could have said.

“
I
’
ll just be over at the lunch counter.
”
Dixie pointed like maybe Noni had forgotten where that counter was after only owning the place and working here each and every day for the last ten years.
“
You can just call me when it
’
s ready.
”

More whacking and rattling sounds answered her.

“
Okay, then.
”
Dixie smiled, gave a wave, took a step backward.

Whap, whap, whap, whap.

She made a beeline for the counter, then plopped herself right down on one of the stools. Rushed, worried, and now falling further behind in her schedule.

For one fleeting instant she thought she
’
d bust out crying all over the
“
Sights to See in Mississippi
”
paper placemat in front of her. That darned combination of exhaustion and self- pity had crept up on her again.

Everything had changed so fast. A few weeks ago her life consisted of the best hotels in the South, a lavish expense account, closing big deals for the company, and only coming back to Fulton
’
s Dominion for holidays and a few weekends scattered through any given month.

At least she could take comfort that all that nonsense was behind her. She
’
d finally have a chance to settle down, to make a home for herself, maybe even find someone to love and have a family with. Daddy
’
s passing had brought her need for those things keenly into focus and deepened the ache inside her for all she had lost, all she
’
d never had.

“
Be back to get your order in a minute, hon.
”
The waitress clunked down a glass of ice water with a paper-covered straw.

Dixie blinked, taking a moment to realize where she was and how she had come to be there. She slid a plastic-coated menu from behind one gleaming, silver napkin holder and flicked it open.
“
Well, since it looks like I
’
m going to be here awhile, I guess no one could fault me for grabbing a little something to eat.
”

“
I
’
m not supposed to talk to strangers, ma
’
am.
”

“
Actually, I wasn
’
t...
”
She spun
‘
round on the stool, stopping short when she caught a glimpse of who had spoken to her.
“
Well, hello there.
”

The sweetest pair of big green eyes batted up at her.
“
Aren
’
t you just a baby doll?
”

Instantly enchanted, Dixie laid her menu down and leaned forward over the empty stool next to her.
“
Hope you don
’
t mind my saying it, but I do believe that accent of yours is bigger than you are.
”

“
I
’
m not supposed to talk to strangers,
”
the little dark- haired girl drawled out again.

“
You
’
re not here all by yourself, are you?
”
Dixie glanced around. No one at the counter. No one at the register.
“
That is, there is someone who brought you in here, right? Maybe just went to the rest room or something like that?
”

“
I
’
m
not
supposed to—
”

“
Yes, I know, talk to strangers.
”
Was that the only sentence this child knew? Dixie darted her gaze here and there over every visible place in the small store.

Who would leave a young child unattended like this? Even in a small town like Fulton
’
s Dominion, people just didn
’
t
do
that. They watched the national news here just the same as they did in Jackson and larger cities. Things happened to children left alone. Everybody knew that.

The child set her leg to swinging, the untied laces of one of her precious pink tennis shoes flapping back and forth against her white tights.

Dixie touched her mother
’
s pearl necklace, which she always wore, as if trying to draw on some inherent maternal guidance. Someone would come strolling up to claim the child any moment now. She was sure of it.

Her eyes glued to Dixie, the girl took her large paper cup and almost went blue in the face trying to draw one of the fountain
’
s famous extra-thick milkshakes up through a pencil- thin straw.

Dixie had to hold herself back from taking that straw away from the girl and handing her a spoon. If she wasn
’
t supposed to talk to strangers, she most certainly would not accept better dining suggestions from one, would she?

The girl gulped, but anyone could tell it was mostly air. She paused and looked down into her cup.

Who was she? Obviously, Dixie did not recognize every child in town, but one old enough to be left sitting alone in the drugstore would most likely recognize
her
.

“
You know what I think?
”
She reached toward the child, but did not quite actually touch her arm.

“
I
’
m not supposed—
”

“
I think you
’
re not a real little girl, are you?
”

The big eyes blinked at her, the cup sort of sagged in her two small hands until it rested on the hammock created in her lap by her corduroy jumper.

“
I think you
’
re one of those robot toys I
’
ve heard about that says back whatever you say to it.
”
She cocked her head first one way and then the other.
“
What do people do? Press that bow in your hair to record a message?
”

The girl giggled, her adorably pudgy fingers touching the bow in question.

“
Or do you come with preprogrammed sayings, like—
”
Dixie raised the pitch of her voice and tried to copy the child
’
s striking accent—
”‘
Help! This milkshake is so thick it
’
s making my eyes cross to sup it up through this straw!
’“

The girl giggled even more, her eyes shining.

Dixie wished she could nab that little bit of a thing and pull her close in a hug and hold her
‘
til she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that everything was okay. Instead, she kept on at her game, hoping to reach that point where the girl would trust her enough to tell her why such a young thing was sitting in a drugstore all alone.
“
Of course, I know you can say that one

thing about not talking to strangers. But in this town, everybody knows me and my whole family. And I
’
m thinking if you were from here you would, too.
”

The girl turned and plunked her cup down on the counter. She sat there looking straight ahead, her jaw thrust forward, her arms folded like the locked gates of Fort Knox.

“
You done with that, sweetie?
”
The waitress came by.

The child didn
’
t move or speak.

“
I think she might be waiting for it to melt a little so she can drink it better,
”
Dixie volunteered.

She glanced up at the blond waitress and tried to pull the woman
’
s name out of her muddled memory. Noni Philpot was too cheap to spring for nametags because her sunny disposition kept chasing off the workers as fast as she could get the things made up.

The stocky blonde fished a nub of a pencil out from her apron pocket and tapped it on a fresh, fat order pad.
“
You made up your mind, Miss Fulton-Leigh?
”

“
I...um...
”

“
Fulton-Leigh?
”
The girl
’
s whole face brightened.
“
Is
that
your name?
”