The Charmer in Chaps

by Julia London

  And Ella? Well, she had some brochures she’d made on her ancient laptop and had printed and folded at the local pharmacy and mailing depot for the outrageous fee of seventy-five dollars. And she had a bowl of Reese’s peanut butter cups. Mariah had told her to do that.

  Her table felt a little underdressed. Boring. Unnoticeable. So Ella walked around to the front of it to see if there was anything she could do to jazz it up.

  The woman with the time-shares and jam stuck her hand out. “Barb MacKay,” she said. “Recognize me?”

  Ella was startled by the question. “Should I?”

  “Sure! I’m a rural mail carrier and you’re on my route. At least I think you’re the one holed up at the old Kendall place. Is that you?”

  She wasn’t holed up. “Oh,” Ella said, and shook her hand. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Ella Kendall.”

  “I know. I deliver your mail. Folks call me Big Barb on account of my personality,” Big Barb said, and then laughed. “You’ll see.”

  That would not have been Ella’s first guess as to the reason for the nickname, as the woman was ample. “Nice to meet you.”

  “So how are you liking it out there?” Big Barb asked. “Pretty lonely living from where I’m sitting, sugar.”

  “Not at all. I have an entire animal kingdom to keep me company.”

  “Big Barb!”

  Ella glanced over her shoulder—a woman with a flowery tunic top and two kids in tow was sailing directly for them.

  “Marybeth Compton, how have you been?” Big Barb cried, and grabbed the woman in a bear hug.

  “I’m good!” Marybeth said. “How are you?”

  “Right as rain, I can’t complain! I mean my fibromyalgia has been flaring up, but you just gotta work through it, you know? I’m not a complainer, mind you. I don’t understand these kids today that gotta complain. You just do what you need to do, am I right?”

  Marybeth was nodding along and asked Big Barb if she’d been to see a doctor. The two women moved away from Ella’s table to talk. The two kids remained behind and stared at Ella as if she were the creature from the Black Lagoon.

  “Hi,” she said.

  The girl smiled shyly and lifted her hand.

  Not much of a carnival for kids, Ella thought. One had to question why they called it a carnival at all. There was only one quasi-ride outside: four ponies walking around and around a maypole. Ella felt their pain.

  Most of the carnival was taking place in a giant barn at the Expo Center. Outside, in addition to the ponies, there were fire pits, hot chocolate and hot dog stands, and animals to pet. Ella pondered whether or not she should have brought the pig to be petted. Maybe someone would have taken pity on her and taken that eating machine. Unfortunately, that pig was too big to fit into her SUV and probably would have eaten the upholstery on the way.

  The barn itself was one of the giant halls where rodeo and cattle auctions took place. But this weekend, it had been cleared out, and someone had laid down a temporary dance floor. Across the barn from where the booths had been set up was a stage, and a local band was playing a two-step just now. Saturday night revelers were filling the place, and those who weren’t stopping by to say hello to Big Barb were on the dance floor, moving counterclockwise in a giant circle of two-stepping. Temporary bars had been set up on either end of the floor, each of them hosting very long lines.

  Lots of people wandered by Ella’s sad little table, helping themselves to her peanut butter cups on their way to the repurposed horseshoes or the pottery down the line or the soaps or even Big Barb’s jam. Only one elderly couple stopped by her table. He wore a Marine Corps hat, and her hair was snow white. They both had on wire-rimmed glasses and sensible shoes with Velcro straps.

  “An accountant,” the woman cooed as she studied one of Ella’s brochures.

  “I am,” Ella said. “Are you in the market for one?”

  “Oh no,” the woman said. “We use TurboTax. That’s the easiest and the cheapest.”

  Well, yes, Ella was aware that her fees were a little higher than TurboTax. Unfortunately, not a whole lot higher.

  The woman pocketed one of Ella’s brochures all the same.

  “You ought to get out from behind that table and dance,” the old man said. “Pretty girl like you ought to dance.”

  “Leave her alone, Herb,” the woman said. “Oh my, will you look at that? That pumpkin is made of horseshoes!” They moved away from Ella’s table to ogle the horseshoe art.

  After two hours of sitting there, Ella was thinking of packing up and heading home to send an appropriately worded text to Mariah when the music stopped and someone walked up on stage. He was wearing a western suit and bolo tie. Her first thought was that either a square dance or an auction was about to commence, and she was definitely getting out of here if that were the case.

  “That’s the mayor,” Big Barb said, and came sliding over on her wheeled chair to be next to Ella. “Tom Franklin of Franklin Insurance. Know him?”

  “I don’t,” Ella said.

  “Well, if you ever need good insurance, he’s your guy.”

  Mayor Franklin touched the microphone a few times to make sure it was working. “Hello! Hello, Three Rivers! Could I please have your attention?”

  Everyone in the barn began to settle and turn toward the stage. Several people shushed others behind them and shifted closer to hear.

  “I’d like to thank everyone for coming out to Three Rivers twelfth annual Winter Carnival! This is the biggest crowd we’ve had in our history.”

  This garnered a round of cheerful applause, because as all of them in attendance knew, small towns had to take the victories where they could get them.

  The mayor had to use both hands to indicate everyone should quiet down again. “Now, normally, I wouldn’t be up here to interrupt the fun, but down at city hall, we decided there wasn’t a better place to do this.”

  As he spoke, a very fit woman in a sleek blue suit stepped onto the stage. She had gold-brown hair that was short and styled behind her ears. She was followed by a younger man who was tall and just as fit, with dark brown hair. An elderly woman was on his arm.

  “I’m sure you’ve all heard that Charlie Prince passed away suddenly and unexpectedly about three weeks ago,” the mayor said.

  “Dropped dead on the golf course,” Big Barb muttered.

  Ella had heard about the death of Charlie Prince and had guessed—hoped?—that was the reason Luca had never called her. Of course he hadn’t called her after his dad died . . . but she secretly hoped he’d meant to. The death of Charlie Prince was a big deal in Three Rivers. On the day of the funeral, Ella could hardly get through town because big buses were ferrying people from the civic center out to the ranch and back.

  Behind the handsome man with the elderly woman came another middle-aged woman in a flowery dress, escorted by a handsome young man wearing a cowboy hat. And then, behind them, Hallie Prince. Ella hadn’t seen Hallie in twelve years, but she’d know her anywhere. She was still the prettiest one around. Behind her, hopping onto the stage as if he were running a little late came Luca.

  Ella’s breath hitched in her chest. He looked amazing, given what he and his family had gone through. He was wearing a dark blazer, a crisp white collared shirt, jeans, and boots. She wished she could speak to him, at least tell him she was sorry for his loss. She also wished she could think of something more comforting to say than that, but it hardly mattered. He was onstage and she was sitting in the back, in the shadows. He wouldn’t even know she was here.

  “Charlie Prince was descended from our town’s founders,” the mayor said. “He was a civic leader, a philanthropist, and an all-around stand-up guy.”

  “Well, well, that’s Luca Prince, as I live and breathe,” Big Barb muttered. “I haven’t seen him in so long I thought he might have packed up one of those
electric cars and moved out of state.” She leaned closer to Ella and whispered, “Ever since Charlie died, I’ve been hearing things. People are worried about the Princes, you know?”

  Ella blinked. She didn’t know. She didn’t even know what that meant.

  “Quite a blow, losing Charlie like they did.”

  “Sure,” Ella agreed.

  “He was a gambler,” Big Barb muttered, and looked around, as if to see if anyone could hear her. “Like a big gambler. I’ve heard there might be some trouble.”

  “As many of you know,” the mayor continued, “it was Charlie’s desire to see a new sports complex open up on the south side of town, and he donated the funds to make that happen.”

  A round of applause went up from the crowd. One of the men onstage put his arm around the woman in the blue suit.

  “Now that’s Nick Prince with Mrs. Prince,” Big Barb said. “He’s the oldest son. He’s running the family company now, and Charlotte says he has been in a mood since his dad died,” Big Barb said, waggling her brows at Ella.

  “Charlotte?”

  “You don’t know Charlotte? I thought everyone knew her. She’s the office manager at the Saddlebush Land and Cattle Company. It’s been her and Nick these past few days.”

  “We had planned to unveil this plaque at the opening of the sports complex, but we thought we’d use this occasion to present the plaque to the family instead,” the mayor said. “It commemorates the Prince’s many contributions to our community over the last century,” the mayor said.

  As he spoke, two men rolled out a big lump of something covered with a sheet.

  “Here to accept the plaque on behalf of the Prince family is Charlie’s widow, Cordelia Prince.”

  The woman in blue stepped forward as everyone applauded.

  “She’s not handling it well,” Big Barb said. “I heard she showed up to book club with a half-drunk bottle of wine and store-bought cookies. If you know anything about Cordelia Prince, you know she doesn’t do store bought, no sir. She’s always been proud that they have their own baker out there at the ranch, which, you know, always seemed a little over the top to me. Everyone around here would prefer one of Molly Maguire’s cakes if I’m being honest.”

  Ella didn’t know what Big Barb was prattling on about—she was fixated on what was happening on the stage. The men couldn’t untie the rope around the covered object.

  “Who’s the guy in back?” Ella whispered.

  “Oh, well, that’s a story,” Big Barb said with a gleam in her eyes. “Turns out Charlie had a kid he forgot to mention. That’s Margaret Sutton Rhodes in the flowered dress, and the boy she had with Charlie. His name is Tanner Sutton.”

  The rope was undone, and someone pulled the cloth away from the thing underneath. It was a bucking bronco with a small plaque affixed to it.

  Cordelia Prince leaned over and read aloud, “Dedicated to Charles Colby Prince, civic leader, benefactor, philanthropist, and friend to all.”

  Everyone applauded. Men whistled. Cordelia Prince straightened and peered out stoically over the crowd.

  “I heard they didn’t even know about Tanner until he died. I bet that was some drama, I’ll tell you what.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor, and our friends,” Mrs. Prince said. Her voice was smooth. She sounded practiced. “On behalf of my family, thank you for this dear commemoration. Charlie loved Three Rivers so much. Like his family before him, he never wanted to leave here.” She paused to clear her throat and put her fist to her mouth a moment. “It’s all still very new to us, but we wanted to be here to say thank you for remembering him in this way.”

  The crowd applauded again, and Cordelia Prince stepped back. But then the older woman darted past her to the microphone and tapped it. “I’m Dolly Prince,” she said. “Charlie’s mother. I just want you to know that my son would have wanted to be here tonight. He loved this carnival. He wanted to have it at the civic center, but oh no,” she said with a shake of her finger. “The city council hates progress.”

  Luca and his brother Nick moved at the same moment, each of them grabbing an arm and pulling their grandmother away from the mic. Nick Prince said, “Thank you,” and waved at the crowd before they escorted her to the back of the stage.

  “That’s Charlie’s mother, all right. Little off her rocker,” Big Barb offered.

  “Oh,” Ella said. “Dementia?”

  “What? No!” Big Barb said. “She’s just a crazy old woman, that’s all. Nick, he’s the only sane one of the group.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “Cordelia is okay, but she’s not the friendliest woman in town. Hallie, well, she’s all about dresses and what not. Never had to work a day in her life. She’s getting married soon and will end up on the high-society circuit in Houston.”

  How did Big Barb know all of this?

  “And that Luca,” she said with a snort. “He’s easy on the eyes, but he’s never gonna amount to much. Can’t hold a job for more than five seconds, sleeps with all the girls in town but never for long.”

  Ella inwardly winced.

  The mayor was speaking again, something about the parking lot. People were moving again, the band getting ready to play.

  “Sure is sad what happened to old Charlie Prince,” Big Barb said with a sigh.

  “Big Barb, you still selling those time-shares at South Padre?” A man wearing suspenders had appeared at her table.

  “You know I am, Ed. Are you finally gonna admit you want in?” she asked, and rolled back to her table.

  Ella looked up to the stage. The family had gathered around the bronco to have a look. Luca stood behind them, his hands in his pockets. Never going to amount to much.

  When you grew up in the Texas foster care system, you tended to take such proclamations with a grain of salt. Once, a police officer had come to talk to one of the boys in one of the places Ella had lived as a kid. The caseworker had met the cop, and they’d stood out on the front porch talking. Ella could remember their conversation like she’d heard it yesterday. The cop had told the caseworker that Bobby “was like the rest of them” and “was never going to amount to much.”

  “Hell,” he’d said with a shrug, “the girls will end up pregnant, and the boys in jail. That’s just the way it goes.”

  Which house was that? Number three? Number four? Ella couldn’t remember anymore, but she could remember Bobby. He was painfully shy and couldn’t look at anyone without the veil of his bangs over his eyes. He was a gifted artist. He drew scenes from the fantasy world that lived in his head. Dragons and warriors, damsels and castles. Two-headed beasts, forests glittering with fairies. They said Bobby was never going to amount to much, and maybe he hadn’t. She didn’t know what had happened to him, didn’t know what had happened to anyone other than Stacy. But she knew that, like all of them, Bobby was so much more than a foster kid. He was an artist. He could have amounted to a lot more than anyone knew.

  She watched Luca leave the stage with his family. She didn’t believe Big Barb. She thought Luca was already more than anyone knew.

  She briefly toyed with the idea of walking across the dance floor and catching him to say hello. But he was with his family, and she didn’t know what she’d say, exactly. So Ella instead gathered her brochures and her peanut butter cups.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” Big Barb cried when she noticed that Ella was packing up.

  “I’m calling it a day,” Ella said. “No one wants an accountant.”

  “What you need is something to attract people.” This came courtesy of the horseshoe guy.

  Ella looked at him. “Like what?” she asked. “I don’t have any cool horseshoe art. I have a head for numbers, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, that’s not very sexy,” he said, and Ella wondered if she ought to be offended. “Anything would help,” he added, and once aga
in, she wondered if she ought to be even more offended. But that was her problem, in a nutshell. She didn’t like attention.

  “Here,” he said, and reached down under his table then stood up, holding a small decorative bowl made of horseshoes. “Next time, put your brochures in that.” He handed it to her.

  “Oh! I couldn’t,” she said.

  “Sure you can. I got plenty more where that came from. It’s just a little something. If you don’t use it for your brochures, put fruit or whatever in it, and next time, put it on your goshdern table.”

  “Thanks,” Ella said. She took the bowl—it was heavy—and stuffed it into her bag. She smiled at him. “Appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, and sat back down.

  “Good-bye, Ella! See you on the route!” Big Barb said with a wave, and turned back to the couple who had come over to say hello.

  With her new horseshoe bowl, and seventy-five dollars’ worth of brochures in her bag, Ella headed out of the winter carnival. On her way to the parking lot, she decided she’d treat herself to hot chocolate and got in line. As she waited, she observed the kids going around on the ponies. She’d never been on a pony. She’d never been on a horse.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Luca’s voice startled her so badly that Ella whipped around and slammed him in the thigh with her heavy, horseshoe-laden tote bag.

  Chapter Seven

  “Ouch,” Luca said, and rubbed the sting from his thigh. “What the hell do you have in that thing?”

  “I’m so sorry! It’s a horseshoe bowl.”

  Luca looked at the offending tote bag, not understanding. “A what?”

  Ella pulled out the bowl made from welded horseshoes. A brochure fluttered to the ground, and he bent to pick it up, his gaze on the strange bowl. “That’s . . . interesting.”