“I actually love him enough to hope he’ll be happy someday,” Mikie had said, her eyes filling with tears. “But I’m selfish enough not to stay around and see it happen without me.”
Gossip about the Rolling Fork Ranch and Spoonerville now officially extended to Fat Chance. Dymphna knew it would be rude to just walk past the men, into the store. Everyone had worked hard to make and maintain this détente, and she didn’t want to damage it. But she did not want to talk about Pappy. It made her feel disloyal to Old Bertha. The cowboys were now scrutinizing Jeffries, who stood out in his khakis and blue dress shirt.
“You the driver?” Jake asked Jeffries.
“I was the driver,” Jeffries said. “Now I’m the drover.”
Seconds passed while the two cowboys stared at him. Jake narrowed his eyes. “You even know what a drover is?”
“Someone who drives livestock to market,” Jeffries said, pointing to Thud. “I just drove that bloodhound to this market, so, I’m now the drover.”
Dymphna stiffened. It had been awhile since there’d been a newcomer in their midst and she wondered how this was going to play out.
Freddy looked thoughtful for a moment, then his face split into a grin. “Works for me,” he said, shaking Jeffries’s hand. “Welcome, drover.”
“Hey, Titan,” Jake said as Titan headed toward the screen door. “Any word from your bird?”
Titan just shook his head and walked into the store.
“Poor guy,” Jake said. “Pappy and Fancy. Those old buzzards will break your heart every time.”
Dymphna and Jeffries followed Titan into the store.
“I’ll find Dodge,” Titan said.
Dymphna turned to see Jeffries strolling the few aisles, a frown on his face. She smiled to herself, remembering the first time all the Fat Chancers had laid eyes on the store. Most of the inhabitants of Fat Chance were big-city dwellers, and the idea of going without their particular brand of paper towels or fresh bagels took some getting used to. Of course, there was an upside: The Spoonerville store stocked three kinds of chicken feed, and there was always someone with whom to discuss goats. One look at Jeffries told her that the upside would fall on deaf ears.
“Can I help you with anything?” Dymphna asked, placing a hand on Jeffries’s shoulder.
“I have a list from Mr. Tensaw,” Jeffries said, looking helplessly at her. It took Dymphna a second to remember Mr. Tensaw was Wesley. “He wants fresh-squeezed orange juice and Babo Botanicals sunscreen.”
“Well,” Dymphna said, handing Jeffries a sack of oranges, “this is our way of getting fresh-squeezed juice.”
He took the bag and followed Dymphna to another aisle. She popped a bottle of Coppertone in his hands.
“This is as fancy as we get around here with sunscreen,” Dymphna said. “But you should also tell him to stop by Polly’s and get a hat. A cowboy hat was the original sunscreen—and is still the best.”
“I’ll do that,” Jeffries said. “Thanks.”
Dymphna thought Jeffries seemed a little distracted. She followed his gaze. He was looking at Titan, who was at the counter, talking to Dodge.
“Who is that?” Jeffries asked.
“That’s Dodge Durham,” Dymphna said. “He’s the one who tried to steal the town from us when we first got here. He runs this store, so we have to deal with him, but be careful around him.”
Jeffries seemed to relax.
“Anything else I can help you with?” Dymphna asked.
“No, I think I get the idea,” Jeffries said. “Basic stuff only.”
“You got it!” Dymphna said.
Jeffries went back to shopping and Dymphna went to stand with Titan. Dodge tended to keep his distance from Dymphna, having relegated her to the role of “Professor Johnson’s girl.” There was an uneasy peace between the two men after Professor Johnson flattened Dodge after a fight about Thud. Dodge acknowledged her with a quick nod, but didn’t stop his exchange with Titan.
“You want to buy whitewash for the whole town?” Dodge was saying. “Why?”
Dymphna put her hand on Titan’s wrist, hoping to stop him from answering. If Dodge found out they were trying to keep this a secret, he’d find a way to alert the whole county. But Titan was oblivious to the signal.
“Dymphna and I think it would be a unifying activity,” Titan said. “Everybody’s fighting over extending the asphalt and what we’re going to do with the grapes when the harvest comes in.”
“Really,” Dodge said. Dymphna could practically see his antennae go up. “Y’all are fighting, huh?”
“Fighting is much too strong a word,” Dymphna said.
“I don’t think it is,” Titan said miserably. “Professor Johnson and Fernando are at each other’s throats about the grapes.” Turning to Dymphna, he added, “And you left town because you were so sick of hearing about the road! Besides, why are we here spending our own money if we aren’t trying to unite the town?”
Dodge turned his eager glance toward Dymphna.
“Now that Cleo’s back,” Dymphna said, knowing that just the sound of her name put Dodge on high alert, “we just thought it would be nice to spruce the place up.”
“What are you—” Titan started to say, but Dymphna’s grip on his arm got firmer and he quieted down.
“Well, I can get you a nice deal on some real nice paint,” Dodge said. “It’ll be about a thousand dollars.”
Titan gasped. “A thousand dollars?”
“You’re lucky Main Street is full of false-front buildings. If you had real buildings, it would be more.”
“We have real buildings,” Dymphna said, brows furrowing.
“Tell you what—I’ll even throw in delivery. So you don’t have to worry about getting paint on your limousine,” Dodge said. “You want this on your tab or Titan’s?”
Dymphna’s breath caught. She shared an account with Professor Johnson, and she didn’t want him to get wind of this. But she couldn’t really ask Titan to take on the financial burden. Neither of them had bargained for this price tag.
“You can put it on mine,” Titan said.
“Are you sure?” Dymphna asked. “It’s a lot of money. Maybe we should rethink this?”
“Or ask Cleo,” Dodge said. “She’s probably got more money in her purse than I make in a year.”
“This is a gift from us,” Dymphna said, annoyed with herself for answering him. She knew he was baiting her.
Thud nosed between them.
“Looks like Thud needs to go out,” Dymphna said.
“That’s fine,” Titan said. “I’ll finish up here.”
“OK.” Dymphna put a bottle of shampoo on the counter. “May I pay for this, please?”
Dodge picked up the bottle and studied it. “That’s funny,” he said. “Your sister bought this same bottle.”
Dymphna looked up in surprise. When had Maggie come to Spoonerville?
Dymphna shook her head. Maggie was a free agent. As long as she wasn’t causing trouble, she could come and go as she pleased.
She paid for the shampoo, stowed it in her canvas shopping bag, and headed to the front door. She glanced around for Jeffries, who once again seemed transfixed by Titan and Dodge. Thud butted her leg. She held the door open and she and Thud went outside.
Chapter 20
“Let me buy you lunch,” Wesley said to Erinn.
“You’re my PA,” Erinn said. “In the real world, you wouldn’t have any money.”
“Look around,” Wesley said, sweeping his arms to include all of Fat Chance. “What about this place says ‘real world’ to you?”
“Even so,” Erinn said, “I don’t think the PA buying the director lunch is . . . seemly.”
“Seemly?” Wesley said, furrowing his brow. “Interesting word. Would you consider it unseemly? Or just not seemly?”
“I don’t think there is much difference,” she said.
The fact that this man dared to play word games with her made
Erinn very nervous. She could usually count on being the smartest person in the room, yet here in Fat Chance, with a population of more or less ten people, she found herself having to contend with both Professor Johnson and Wesley Tensaw. She needed to stay on her game.
“I disagree. If you find it unseemly, I can’t talk you into lunch. But if you only find it not seemly, I still have a chance.”
They walked by the Cowboy Food Café. Erinn couldn’t tell what Fernando was making, but whatever it was smelled divine.
I don’t have to be hungry while staying on my game, she thought.
“All right,” she said. “But next time it’s on me.”
“Oh, there’s going to be a next time?” Wesley said. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Erinn found heat rising from her collarbone. She was trying to sound casual—not her strong suit—but Wesley made the suggestion seem absolutely lurid.
He held open the door to the café and Erinn walked in. Lunch patronage at the Cowboy Food Café was smaller than the breakfast crowd. Erinn chose a table for six, stacking her camera equipment in all but two of the chairs.
Polly came over with two glasses of water. “Hey, Erinn. Mr. Tensaw.”
“Please,” Wesley said, “call me Wesley.”
“OK,” Polly said. “I’ll try, but you seem like a Mr. Tensaw, even in Fat Chance.”
“Your call,” Wesley said.
Erinn stared at the chalkboard menu on the counter. She really needed her glasses to focus on Fernando’s cursive, but her vanity wouldn’t allow her to rummage in her pocket for them. The ease she felt when she was wrapped in her professional persona continued to melt away.
“Did Old Bertha settle down?” Wesley asked, referring to the mayhem of the morning.
“I guess so,” Polly said, shrugging. “Pappy leaving town has kind of freaked her out. She’s got this crazy idea of making a quilt out of canvas and leather. I told her I had plenty of good cotton fabric, but she won’t listen.”
“What’s anyone going to do with a quilt made of canvas?” Wesley asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Polly said. “But if that’s what she wants to do, I’ll help her. That’s the great thing about this place. You can run with every crazy idea and see what happens. Nobody judges you.”
Erinn nodded. She couldn’t imagine what Old Bertha hoped to achieve by sewing up an incredibly uncomfortable quilt.
“Today’s special is shepherd’s pie,” Polly said.
“It has potatoes,” Polly offered. “Do I need to say that?”
“Not to us,” Wesley said, smiling.
Those are very white teeth, Erinn thought. She wondered if he had veneers.
“Erinn?” Polly prodded.
“Fine,” Erinn said, relieved to find she didn’t need to read the board. “That sounds fine. And coffee.”
“I’ll have the same,” Wesley said. “Decaf with soy.”
“We don’t serve decaf,” Polly said. “Or soy.”
“Herbal tea?” Wesley asked.
“Dr. Pepper is really popular,” Polly said. “It makes Fernando crazy, but what are you going to do?”
“I’ll just have water,” Wesley said, defeated.
Fernando appeared at the table. He slapped down an herbal tea bag.
“From my private stash. Glad to share,” Fernando said, returning to the kitchen as quickly as he had appeared.
Polly brought over a pot of hot water for Wesley and a steaming mug of coffee for Erinn. They drank in silence. Erinn always felt trapped in social situations. A one-on-one conversation with an attractive man was the worst.
“Are you happy with the footage you’ve gotten so far?” Wesley asked.
Erinn was instantly on guard. There was something about the timbre of his voice that made her wary. This was not the conversational tone of a fellow filmmaker, or even a bright subordinate’s attempt to ingratiate himself. This was a man who wanted to know something.
But what?
“I think we have a few interesting moments,” Erinn hedged.
“Like what?”
“You tell me,” Erinn said. “As an insider, what do you think of the footage we’ve gotten?”
“I would hardly qualify myself as an ‘insider,’ ” Wesley said, looking around the room. “Not in a town that doesn’t serve decaf.”
“But you know everyone involved in Cutthroat’s will,” Erinn said. “And you knew Cutthroat.”
“I didn’t really know anyone besides Cleo and Elwood,” Wesley said. “And as far as knowing Cutthroat, we had a strictly business relationship.”
How convenient.
“The man with all the dirt on Cutthroat would have been Sebastian Pennyfeather,” Erinn said. “Am I right?”
“Yes,” Wesley said. It was as if they were in a poker game now, the cards being played very close to the vest.
“Did he have any family, this Pennyfeather?” asked Erinn.
“No.”
“He sounds like he was an interesting man.”
“He was,” Wesley said. “He was a brilliant man.”
“Was there a thorough investigation into his death?”
“What do you think?”
A non-answer.
“It wasn’t his fault he died in a boating accident,” Wesley continued. “The world lost a great mind that day.”
Erinn folded. They returned to silence as Polly arrived with the shepherd’s pies.
“Anything else I can get for you?” Polly asked.
“We’re fine,” Wesley said. “Thanks.”
Used to friendly banter with the customers, but sensing this was not the time, Polly extricated herself.
“This is amazing,” Erinn said after taking a bite of the pie.
She was relieved to be changing the subject, although she felt a twinge of disloyalty to her sister back at the tea shop in Venice. When Fernando had been the chef at the Rollicking Bun, his shepherd’s pie had customers lining up on the boardwalk an hour before opening. When he went to open his B & B on Vashon Island, he kindly left behind all his recipes, but Suzanna didn’t really ever get the hang of the pie.
“I never eat anything this rich at home,” Wesley said.
“Don’t you like it?” Polly was unexpectedly at his side, like a ninja waitress, one hand on the back of his chair, the other on her hip.
“I like it very much,” Wesley said, startled. He slapped his taut stomach. “I just better not get used to it.”
Polly beamed and left again. Wesley watched her. When he was sure she was out of earshot, he said, “Of everyone whom I met at the reading of the will, Polly has changed the most.”
Erinn relaxed. Anything that was fodder for the documentary was safe ground.
“How so?” she asked.
“The last time I saw Polly, she wore vampire makeup,” Wesley said. “And I didn’t see her smile once. I’m sure her life here has been harder than it ever was in New York City, but she’s blossomed here.”
“Blossomed?” Erinn said, arching an eyebrow.
“I know, I sound like I’m ninety,” Wesley said. “But I hated to see somebody so young with such a chip on her shoulder.”
Erinn was surprised someone with the reputation of Wesley Tensaw would even notice a young Goth-girl’s chip.
“Why do you suppose she changed?” Erinn said.
“Support? Love? Acceptance?” Wesley offered.
“I hope not,” Erinn said. “Support, love, and acceptance do not a documentary make.”
“What if that’s the secret?” Wesley asked. “What if that’s all you find?”
Erinn could see that he was trying to appear casual, but the grip on his fork told her otherwise.
The more I talk to you, the more I doubt that is all I’m going to find, she thought.
Polly came back to clear their plates when they were done.
“What time are you finished here?” Erinn asked her. “I’d like to interview you, if you ha
ve the time.”
“Cool,” Polly said. “But you’ll have to interview me over at my shop. I have a hat order for a store in Galveston and I need to work on it.”
“No problem,” Wesley said.
Erinn shot him a look. Wesley smiled back sheepishly.
“Overstepping my production-assistant bounds?” he asked.
“Massively,” Erinn said.
“Pardonnez-moi,” Wesley said.
To Polly, Erinn said, “We’ll see you over at the store this afternoon.”
“Amaze-balls,” Polly replied.
As Polly walked away, Erinn stared after her in amazement. “Did she just say ‘amaze-balls’? What does that even mean?”
“It means ‘amazing’ or ‘awesome,’” Wesley said. “All the kids are saying it.”
“Thanks for the translation,” Erinn said, embarrassed that she’d asked. She gauged that she was at least five years younger than Wesley.
“It’s good to keep up,” he said.
Chapter 21
Now loaded with gear, Wesley preceded Erinn into the store. Blinking to adjust from the harsh outdoor glare of Main Street to the softer light of the interior of the shop, Erinn found she could hear Wesley and Polly chatting before she could see them. When her eyes finally adapted, Erinn looked around. She gasped. If the shopkeepers at Disney ever needed a lesson in excess, a field trip to Tops, Hats and Tails would be just the ticket. One entire wall was lined with cowgirl hats decorated with elegant, whimsical, or outrageous originality. Another wall held the men’s selection. The hatbands featured Titan’s graceful metal embellishments and Powderkeg’s hand-tooled leather.
The store was packed with ribbons of every color, pattern, and texture. Lace in every width, some so fine it appeared to be spun by Arachne herself. Bolts of hand-dyed fabrics were crammed into every corner, and traditional-design quilts hung from the rafters. In the center of the store were two cabinets. On one, a display table held earrings, which were another collaborative effort of Titan and Polly’s.
The other cabinet was newer, brighter, and steadier. Erin suspected it to be Powderkeg’s handwork. Six mannequin head forms, three female and three male, sat disembodied on the cabinet. The effect of six heads sitting in the middle of the store was a bit unnerving. The heads all wore unfinished cowboy hats, so Erinn suspected that this was Polly’s workstation.
Livin' Large in Fat Chance, Texas Page 14