"Eileen? Great. Okay, this is Jennifer Lockwood. Let's get quite practical here, shall we? You are aware of the Telecommunications Act of 1996? You are not? Ah, well, allow me to educate you. Under the terms of that law your company is required to let people like us use the extra wires in your sub loop that are not currently required for voice communications. . . . Yes, I'm quite sure. So. We want a DSL line at minimum and I am not adverse to a T1. We are willing to pay for all of the work. Yes. I said all of the work. No, I'm quite serious. And we want service this week. . . . Eileen, do I sound like I'm joking? . . . Why, yes, I'd be delighted to speak with your regional manager."
Kate raised her eyebrows and pointed toward the back door. Jenny made a shooing motion with her hand and mouthed, "I've got this."
Kate walked out on the back porch and took her cell phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She thumbed through her contacts until she found the entry for Jack Swinton and hit send. When a man's voice answered, she said, "Jack? That you? Kate Lockwood here."
"Katie!" the voice said happily. "Trying to run me down to take more of my money at cards?"
"No," she said seriously. "I think I need some help from the Rangers."
"What's going on?" he said crisply.
"The local law dogs are saying my Daddy went out to the barn and blew his brains out with a Colt .45," she said, her voice level.
"Men will do that," Swinton answered carefully.
"He was wearing a 100x Stetson."
There was a pause. "Did he take the hat off?"
"No."
"Huh," he said. "Let me talk to the local authorities. Maybe I'll take a drive out your way tomorrow. You gonna be around?"
"All day."
"I'll be back in touch."
"Thank you, Jack," she said. As she put the phone back in her pocket, Jenny joined her on the porch. "We should be set up in a few days."
"Do I even want to know?" Kate asked.
"No," Jenny laughed. "We will have Internet and the connection will be fast."
"How'd you learn all that stuff?" Kate asked curiously.
"I did some collaboration with a reclusive artist who lives out in the middle of the desert in Arizona. We did all of our work over video conference and I couldn't believe she could make the technology work out there, so I asked her how she did it. In her case the fight with the phone company lasted 10 months before they ran the lines. Thanks to her, I knew what to say to expedite the process," Jenny grinned.
"So how are you going to spend the morning?" Kate asked, leaning up against one of the posts on the porch.
"Picking the exact site of my new studio / home," Jenny said. "I came up with an idea last night."
"What's the plan?"
"There's an architect in California who converts shipping containers into custom homes. Does everything on site and brings it to you when it's ready. I want two. One for my studio and one to live in. Any objections?"
"Hardly," Kate said, "this place is as much yours now as it is mine. Just run the spot by me in case there's anything you need to know about it, like a draw getting up when it rains or something."
"Actually," Jenny said, "I was thinking about right over there against that stand of live oaks, up behind the barn and to the right."
Kate smiled. "That's where your treehouse was when we were kids."
"It's the one place on this ranch I always loved," Jenny said.
"Then it should be yours exclusively."
"What are you going to do?" Jenny asked.
"I guess I'll move in here," Kate said. "At least for now. I don't see how Daddy could haunt me any more in real life than he has in my own head all these years. That was my Ranger friend I was talking to, by the way."
"And?" Jenny asked.
"He's probably coming out here tomorrow," Kate said. "Said he was going to call Lester first."
"Did he say anything else?"
"He just asked if Daddy took his hat off before he supposedly killed himself and when I said no, he got more interested."
"You tell him about the bullet hole?"
"No, I want to show it to him, walk him through our theory the way we did in the barn the other night. He understands ballistics. He may just tell us right then and there that there's nothing to it."
Jenny eyed her appraisingly. "Is that what you really think he'll say?"
Kate shook her head. "No, I don't."
10
Mandy came out of the bank armed with her new debit card. She paused on the sidewalk to get her bearings. "Downtown," such as it was, had changed little in the 10 years she'd been away. The local library, however, was apparently no longer wedged into a crowded storeroom in the courthouse.
When Mandy asked the clerk in the bank if she thought the library was open yet, she'd been rewarded with an enthusiastic account of the fundraising drive. The effort allowed the library board to acquire an empty building to both move and expand the collection.
"It's in old Doc Palmer's office now," the woman said. "You remember. Behind the Baptist Church? It's beautiful! They get new romance books on interlibrary loan every week. It's wonderful!"
Mandy hadn't bothered to mention she bought new books on her Kindle pretty much daily. Facebook wasn't the only thing she was missing about her life online. Broadband couldn't come to the ranch fast enough to suit her.
She turned to walk the two blocks to the new library and caught sight of herself in the tinted glass of the bank's front window. Automatically she raised her hand to push her blonde waves into a perfect frame around her face.
Kate and Jenny both had dark hair like their father, along with that trademark Lockwood profile, all angles and character, straight noses and probing gray eyes. They were tall women who moved with a kind of studied purpose. Mandy was rounded and soft like their mother, blue eyed, her generous mouth curving easily into delighted smiles. She laughed often, and what her body lacked in size, her personality compensated for and then some.
Mandy wasn't so much vain as well ordered, keeping the clutter of the world at bay with well-crafted personal routines. Today she wore a crisp white blouse, ironed jeans, and simple flat sandals. A noisy riot of thin bracelets jangled on her left wrist, and her right hand clutched her iPhone, which had burst into a cacophony of social media alerts as soon as it acquired a data signal. She looked like what she was; a pretty, fun young woman enjoying the cool breeze of a clear spring day.
Satisfied with her appearance, Mandy glanced at her wristwatch. Plenty of time to get to the library, visit the Louis Vuitton site, and meet Joe Bob – she mentally corrected herself and stifled a giggle – "Just Joe" at the cafe for lunch.
On the short trip to the library, Mandy was surprised by the number of empty stores she passed. Even the dress shop that had been the Mecca of her small town world not that long ago sported a black and orange placard proclaiming, "Sorry! We're Closed." What on earth had happened to the thriving little town she remembered?
When she reached the relocated library, no such signs of economic decay greeted her. The flowerbeds, covered in dense shade from the twin pecan trees flanking the walk, were thick with new plants. A hand painted banner proclaimed, "Summer reading program starts June 1!” She ducked as a determined hummingbird zoomed into the feeder hanging under the eave of the front porch.
Two little girls were curled up in the wicker chairs on either side of the door, both with their heads buried in their books. "Morning," Mandy said as she came up the three steps.
"Morning, ma’am," they chirped in unison, grinning and pushing identical glasses up on the bridge of their identical noses. Twins.
"How come you all aren't in school?" Mandy asked, grinning back.
"Teacher in service day, ma'am."
"What grade are you all in?"
"Second."
"Is Mrs. Funderburke still teaching second grade?" Mandy asked, pretending to shudder.
The little girl on the left rolled her eyes. "Yes ma'am."
&nb
sp; Mandy leaned down and whispered, "Does she still spit when she reads?"
The twins exchanged a cautious glance and burst into peals of laughter, Mandy joining them for a long, drawn out, "EEEEEEEEWWWWWWWW."
Still giggling, Mandy opened the door and walked into an air-conditioned oasis. A woman in a gaily tied headscarf greeted her from behind the desk. It was a brave front, but Mandy took in the gaunt features and tired eyes. Cancer. A painful echo of her mother's face in those last months.
Mandy stuffed down the memory and put on the same smile she wore as a scared little girl. "Good morning. I was wondering if I could use you all's computers?"
The woman smiled and some light came into her eyes. "What's the head cheerleader doing wanting to work on a computer?"
Cocking her head to one side, Mandy studied the woman for a few seconds until recognition dawned, "Jolene!" she cried. "You come out here and hug my neck!"
The two women embraced warmly. When Jolene stepped back, she said, "Sounds like you met my babies."
"The twins are yours?" Mandy asked.
"Double trouble on the hoof. Savannah and Madison, but we call them Sissy and Missy."
"They are cute as bugs," Mandy said. Then, hesitating she said, "How are you, Jolene?"
The other woman's smile broadened and relief relaxed her features. "Bless you Mandy Lockwood for not dancing around it. I hate it when people do that. Trust me, honey, I know I still look like hell, but the treatments worked."
"Well, I don't know how you feel, darling," Mandy said brightening, "but your fashion sense is perfect. I love that scarf."
"To tell you the truth, I shaved my head so I'd have an excuse to buy it," Jolene winked.
"I totally understand," Mandy said with sincerity.
"I'm sorry about your Daddy," Jolene said, laying her hand on Mandy's arm. "Are you gonna be able to manage living out at the ranch with your sisters?"
"Good Lord, does everybody in town already know about the will?"
"Honey, the whole town had all the details five seconds after John Fisk took his reading glasses off," Jolene scoffed.
"No, it's not awful," Mandy said. And then, thinking better of it, she corrected herself. "Okay, it won't be awful when I do some shopping and get a decent Internet connection. Help!"
"Your wish is my command," Jolene said. "Come on, I'll get you hooked up." She turned to walk to the back of the building, swayed, and grabbed for the counter. Mandy was instantly beside her offering a steadying arm.
Jolene smiled weakly, leaning heavily on Mandy. "I still get a little dizzy," she explained. "Damned chemo. They say it will go away in time. Thank you, sugar. You're still sweet as pie."
Mandy linked her arm through Jolene's as if they were taking a stroll down Main Street. "Oh, now, on the subject of pie. I'm having lunch with Joe Bob Mason . . ."
Jolene perked up. "Oh, do tell?"
"There's not much to tell. He was at Daddy's funeral and he asked me if I'd have lunch with him."
"Well, well, well," Jolene said. "Joe Bob has made a lot of progress. Back in the day, he couldn't say two words to you without turning beet red. He always has been sweet on you."
"Oh for heaven's sake, surely he has a wife and kids," Mandy asked, trying not to sound as interested as she was.
"Good stab at the nonchalant thing there, Mandy," Jolene joked. "He's single."
"Oh, really?" Mandy grinned.
"Really."
"Well, okay then, uh, computer?" Mandy said, flustered for no reason she could put her finger on.
Jolene laughed. "Okay, okay, fine. I'll let you off the hook. Come on."
Outside on the porch Sissy and Missy raised their heads from their books at the sound of their mother's laughter. Both girls grinned.
"Do you know who that lady is?" Sissy asked.
Missy, shaking her head no, said, "I like hearing Mama laugh."
As it turned out, Mandy didn't use the brand new debit card she thought was burning a hole in her wallet. Maybe it was seeing Jolene struggling to recover from her illness and putting on a good front for her girls. Maybe it was being in a library the community spent three years raising the funds to build. Somehow a new Louis Vuitton bag seemed more . . . well, vapid than vital.
Instead, she'd used the time to help her friend re-shelve books while they reminisced about high school. When she glanced up and saw the clock hands reading a quarter of 12, she was almost sorry she had a sort of date with Joe Bob Mason.
When she stepped out on the porch, one of the little girls said, "Thank you for making my Mama laugh."
Mandy bent down beside the chair. "Which one are you?" she asked.
"I'm Missy."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Missy." She glanced over her shoulder, "And you, too, Sissy." She shifted so she could see both girls. "Your Mama and I have been friends since we were about your age," she added.
"Did she laugh a lot back then?" Missy asked.
"All the time," Mandy assured her. "And she's gonna laugh a whole lot more from now on."
Her heart constricted a little as she recognized the shadow of doubt that flickered across the blue eyes studying her so seriously.
"You think so?" Missy asked in a small voice.
"I'm certain."
Sissy asked hopefully, "Will you come back and make Mama laugh some more?"
"You bet I will," Mandy said.
On the other side of the door where she stood listening, Jolene felt a tear roll down her cheek. If anybody understood how to talk to little girls scared because their Mama was sick, it was Mandy Lockwood.
Jolene remembered the funeral all too well. Mandy looking like a little doll in her best Sunday dress clutching her big sisters' hands with a lost, hurt expression in her eyes. Langston Lockwood standing there scowling like the whole business was a waste of a good working day. If there was a hell, it was made for old bastards like him.
The bell on the door jingled brightly when Mandy stepped into the cafe. From a table against the wall, Joe waved to get her attention. They exchanged a friendly hug and he pulled a chair back for her.
"Thank you, Joe," she said, sitting down. "Mercy it's getting hot out there already."
He caught the eye of the one over-worked waitress, pointing to his own glass of ice tea and then at Mandy. The woman nodded and brought a second frosty glass on her next swoop past, order pad and pen in hand.
"Do you know what you want, honey?" she asked, indicating by her tone that she would appreciate a speedy answer.
"What are you having, Joe?" Mandy asked.
"The special. It's Friday. Catfish."
"That's fine for me, too," Mandy said.
As the woman walked off, she said, "Would the world come to an end if this place didn't serve catfish on a Friday?"
"Pretty much," he grinned. "But it's good catfish. Skeeter probably caught it himself last night on a trot line."
She rolled her eyes. "Did I fall into a time warp and not notice?"
"Try being mayor of this town," he said ruefully.
"Joe, how did you wind up being mayor?" she asked curiously, adding hastily. "Not that you're not qualified. I'm sure you're a wonderful mayor."
"The city council might not agree," he said, exhaling heavily. "I may lose it if one more of those old coots calls me 'boy,'"
"Why did you run?" she asked, adding sweetener to her tea and stirring the drink with a long spoon.
"This town is drying up, Mandy," he said seriously. "I'm helping Daddy run the hardware store and we barely stay afloat. Everybody goes out of town to shop at Walmart or Home Depot. I thought somebody younger with some ideas about bringing new businesses into the community might kinda jumpstart things."
"Are you making any progress?" she asked.
"You know what they say. Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and irritates the pig."
"Is it a waste of time?" she asked seriously.
"Teaching the pig to sing or trying to change
this town?" he grinned.
"The town," she grinned back.
"No, but it’s slow going. At least I've managed to get an economic research council put together with some younger folks on it. They're trying to revitalize downtown." He paused and added, "You want to join the council?"
Mandy' looked as shocked as she sounded. "Me?"
"According to town gossip, you'll be living here now," he said reasonably, "and you have great organizational skills."
"For a pep rally or a prom, sure," she said, "but what do I know about . . . about . . ."
"Revitalization," he supplied helpfully. "We need somebody with enthusiasm on the council, and you've always had that. You light up a room, Mandy."
Feeling an uncharacteristic blush of pleasure fill her face, she looked down, embarrassed and pleased by the words. "Why thank you, Joe Bob," she said.
"Just Joe," he corrected.
Looking up through her lashes and trying to remember if he'd been quite this handsome in high school, she said softly, "Thank you . . . Just Joe."
This time it was his turn to blush. At that moment, two platters of catfish arrived and filled the awkward, charged air between them, but silently Mandy had to agree with Jenny's assessment. It was starting to seem like Just Joe had indeed turned out just fine.
11
"It's actually a remarkably uncomplicated estate," John Fisk said, tapping the stack of papers in his hands against the desktop to align the edges. "Now that you've signed, each of your sisters needs to come in and do the same. You already have access to the liquid funds in Langston's account at the bank and I've started the paperwork to get the investment accounts in your names. The title company is working on the deed to the ranch. There are a few other little odds and ends, and of course you'll want to talk to the accountant, but I'm sure Judge Wilson will expedite the whole probate process."
"There are definitely advantages to living in a little town," Kate said, relieved. She had a hatred of paperwork almost as intense as the one her father always claimed to nurse, yet his affairs appeared to be in letter perfect order. She was astonished to learn about the investment accounts. He'd always boasted that he put every dime back into the ranch.
The Lockwood Legacy - Books 1-6: Plus Bonus Short Stories Page 5