Deep Dixie (22 page)

She looked down, then up again, as if testing to see if he had taken his gaze from her. He had not. If he had his way, he would not, not all evening long.

Around them, the subtle charm of the old mansion created a welcome backdrop. Candles flickered at the center of the table, casting the surroundings in a cozy, inviting glow. The aroma of hot rolls and creamy buttermilk salad dressing filled his senses.

Riley let out a long, contented sigh. Except for the psychotic yodeling poodle, the scene had a Norman Rockwellesque, American family dream quality about it. If Riley let himself, he could just picture—

He sat bolt straight in his chair. He did not need to start entertaining those kinds of thoughts now. Not when his mind should stay sharp and focused on his new business and on Wendy
’
s adoption.

He reached for his tall, crystal glass of sweet iced tea. He
’
d driven a small wedge into Dixie
’
s defenses tonight and it had made him cocky, allowed him to relax a bit too much. Yes, she was a lovely woman with a gracious home and a fearlessness that came from some compelling inner flame. Yes, she was fierce about facing life and its demands.

Yet there was so much about her, her business, and her family that Riley still did not know. Like where was George R. Cunningham, this mysterious Judge? Obviously he did not share the family home, something Riley could not hold against the man. When would Riley meet him and how would they work together to bring Fulton
’
s Cartage up to its full potential?

“
So, Mr. Walker, come over here from Deepwoods, Mississippi?
”
Dixie
’
s grandfather rapped on the table with his spoon.
“
Our Miss Lettie tells me that you made your fortune selling rowboats to rescue operations.
”

“
What? I...
”
Riley looked to Dixie for help making head or tails of that pronouncement.

“
No, no, Grandpa, that
’
s not right.
”
Dixie put her hand to her cheek.
“
You
’
ve got Mr. Walker confused with a joke Lettie was telling—
”

“
Well, tell me the joke, son, and I
’
ll see if I can
’
t
unconfuse
you.
”

“
I don
’
t know the joke, sir.
”

“
There
’
s your problem!
”
The round-faced man tapped his spoon to the table again, his red, round cheeks puffing out as he laughed quite congenially over apparently nothing at all.
“
How can I help people when people refuse to help themselves?
”

“
If they could help themselves why under the sun would they
need
your help?
”
Sis plucked up the elegant bowl into which she
’
d scooped the first helping of noodles and chicken, then lifted it in the air as if she were going to make a toast with it.
“
Rowboats? My goodness, imagine getting everything all twisted around like that. That doesn
’
t even make sense. And

here you have three-fourths of this town calling you--
”

Everyone looked to her.

Riley could almost feel them all simultaneously holding their breaths, waiting for Sis to announce what three-fourths of the town was calling Dixie
’
s grandfather.

Sis eyeballed the food, sniffed it, tipped the bowl left to right in the palm of her hand. She seemed quite unaware that she
’
d left everyone dangling.

Riley started to say something, anything that might prod her into finishing her sentence or at
least get the conversation going again.
“
I was just going to ask—
”

Suddenly, Sis disappeared beneath the table.

After that, whatever Riley would have said just did not seem to matter anymore.

Dixie seemed to jump at the chance to throw out a diversionary tactic, dabbing her napkin to the corner of her mouth and cooing,
“
Grandpa, you know that this man is—
”

Kissing sounds carried up from somewhere beneath their meal, stopping Dixie cold. She cleared her throat and finished,
“
Mr. Riley Walker, right?
”

“
I know the man
’
s name. I know his name,
”
Smilin
’
Bob insisted in a quick fire scolding tone. Then just as quickly, the look on his face shifted. He stroked his thumb and forefinger along his jowly jawline.
“
Where do I know his name from, though?
”

Peachie Too
’
s growl arose from a place not too far away from Riley
’
s feet.

“
Aunt Sis introduced you to him. She
’
d invited him, and little Wendy here, to—
”

“
Wook at the precious puppy
’
s pwetty teeth.
”
Sis
’
s odd combination of pouty baby talk and a cultured Southern accent rose above her pet
’
s continued snarling.

“
Spend the night in our home,
”
Dixie concluded.

Smilin
’
Bob nodded.
“
I know all that, darling. I
’
m trying to recall where else I might know the man
’
s name from, besides meeting him an hour or so ago. Did you really think I didn
’
t remember shaking the man
’
s hand when Sis carted him home?
”
He chuckled and leaned toward Riley.
“
You
’
d think I
’
d get more respect in this house. Worryation, gal! I may be a forgetful old fool, but—
”

“
You can say that again!
”
Sis muttered with enough vigor to make herself heard above the sundry thumping and bumping below that rattled the silver on the table and made the stemware tremble.

“
Yes, well.
”
Smilin
’
Bob shifted in his seat.

Suddenly Sis let out a quiet but expressive
oomph
.

“
Sister?
”
The white-haired gent looked quite surprised even as his twinkling gaze flitted from Dixie to Riley and even over to include Wendy.
“
Sister? Are those your hindquarters down under there? I was just crossing my legs and my foot must have slipped.
”

Sis sighed like a gust of ill wind.

Riley glanced at Dixie, inclined to laugh at the antics but wanting to take his cue from her.

She had her head in her hands.

He swallowed.

“
Grandpa, Sis has fed her dogs under this table for as long as I can remember and yet you still pull that
‘
is that you under there, Sis?
’
routine every third day of the week. If you aren
’
t crossing your legs and kicking her, you are dropping olives or croutons into her hair.
”

“
Just trying to improve on a good thing,
”
he explained to Riley, his face as innocent as a newborn babe
’
s.

“
When are you going to realize it
’
s not funny anymore?
”
Dixie demanded.

Supportive as Riley would have liked to have been of Dixie
’
s point, the image of Sis rising up from the floor of the elegant dining room with olives perched in her bouffant hairdo, like tiny eggs in a nest, got to him. He laughed out loud.

Dixie glared.

Smilin
’
Bob smiled.

Wendy went right on gobbling down her food.

“
Anyway, the thing is, of course I remember greeting our guests, Mr. Walker and his little daughter.
”
Smilin
’
Bob reached out and patted the child on the head. Then he turned to the limp
doll sitting in the vacant chair between himself and Wendy.
“
My, but this is a well-behaved child. Very quiet and hardly eats a thing.
”

“
She
’
s a doll!
”
Wendy clamped her hands over her mouth while her little shoes slapped into each other as she wiggled her legs and giggled.
“
I
’
m the little girl.
I
’
m
Wendy Walker.
”

The man made a big show of looking over Baby Belle then Wendy.
“
Well, so you are. Pleased to meet you again Miss Wendy Walker. Have I given you one of my cards?
”

He started to reach into one of his jacket pockets, then the other. Then he patted his hands down his sides, his face a mask of confusion and concern. Just when Riley was about to tell him not to bother with it, hoping to ease any discomfort the obviously muddled man might feel, Smilin
’
Bob raised one hand in the air.

“
Ahh, there it is.
”
He produced a perfect, white business card, seemingly out of thin air.

Wendy clapped her hands.

Riley chuckled.

Dixie rolled her eyes at the act, but a big grin shone on her face.

Smilin
’
Bob acknowledged it all with a bow, then handed Wendy the card with a flourish of his hand.

Despite the warning about the state of Dixie
’
s family Riley found it almost impossible to think ill of this jovial character who
’
d been so sweet with Wendy. Smilin
’
Bob seemed far more daft than dangerous, making Riley think the whole shoplifting thing might just be another kind of mix-up.

“
So, now, Mr. Walker, tell me more about these rowboats.
”
Smilin
’
Bob sounded quiet serious.

Riley winced. Ok maybe the shoplifting wasn
’
t a mix-up, it came more from a mental condition than a moral failing.

“
Grandpa, there are no rowboats! Honestly!
”

“
Daddy, I
’
m done eating, can I go see Miss Lettie now?
”

“
Miss Lettie! Excellent suggestion!
”
Smilin
’
Bob threw his napkin onto the table.
“
She is the one who knows about these rowboats. Let
’
s go see Miss Lettie.
”

“
Can I, Daddy?
”
Wendy already had Baby Belle in a neck- hold, ready to jump off her seat and go with Dixie
’
s grandfather.

“
It
’
s just down to the end of that hallway.
”
Smilin
’
Bob pointed.

Riley looked to Dixie. In light of his own agenda, he liked the idea of getting Wendy away from the table. That way he might finally be able to talk to Dixie.

He
’
d gotten past a few of the woman
’
s formidable barriers today. Maybe this was his chance to really get some concrete information at last. If nothing else he could try to arrange a time to meet the rest of the family

“
Miss Lettie did ask her to come in after supper,
”
Riley reminded Dixie.
“
Do you think it
’
s all right?
”

“
If Miss Lettie
’
s resting, you have to promise to come straight back here.
”
Dixie wagged her finger at her grandfather even as he slipped from his seat then moved to pull out Wendy
’
s chair so she could come along.
“
I don
’
t want you going in there and getting her all riled up. Do you hear me?
”