by Dixie Cash
Deciding she would have her turn with Lester eventually, Paige dropped the miniconfrontation. “That sounds great, Harley.”
“Come on up to the house, then. Carol’s almost got lunch ready.”
As Paige walked away, she looked over her shoulder at Harley’s horse handler. “I look forward to working with you, Lester. I’m sure there’s a lot you can teach me.”
Lester showered her with a movie-actor smile and swept his hat from his head. “I’m looking forward to us getting closer, Miz McBride. This’ll be a learning experience for both of us.”
Paige shuddered and hurried to catch up with Harley.
Lunch turned out to be one of the most pleasant she had enjoyed in a long time. Carol Jean was entertaining in a down-home way and hospitable. The meal of salad, chicken enchiladas, and black-eyed-pea salsa was delicious. Harley remarked repeatedly that she had no kitchen help.
He looked at his wife with unabashed affection. They frequently touched hands across the table, and each time Carol Jean left to return to the kitchen for something, he rose from his chair. Paige was envious. She had never experienced so loving a relationship with the opposite sex.
Eventually the topic came to the housing situation and Paige was thrilled when Carol Jean said her best friend Debbie Sue Overstreet had a small house for rent in Salt Lick.
“It’s just darling,” Carol Jean said. “Debbie Sue and Buddy lived there before they got a divorce. Two bedrooms. One bath. After Buddy moved out, Debbie Sue fixed it up so cute. It has a big backyard and a nice covered patio. Lord, I can’t even remember all the margaritas I’ve drunk on that patio with her and Edwina.”
Paige’s memory harkened back. “I’ve read about them in Texas Monthly, but the article didn’t mention that Debbie Sue and her husband were divorced.”
Carol Jean seemed momentarily lost in thought, then her face brightened. “Oh, they’re not divorced.”
“But you just said—”
“This is their second marriage.”
“Oh, I thought you said they got a divorce.”
“They did get a divorce, but now they’re married.”
Paige, growing more confused, said, “Well the important thing is they’ve got a house to rent, right?”
“Right. Debbie Sue’s mother’s gone to Nashville to write music, and Debbie Sue and Buddy moved into her house. It’s bigger and it’s on twenty-five acres. Debbie Sue can be near her horse. Rocket Man’s one of the family. If she and Buddy ever have kids, Rocket Man will probably be jealous. Before you leave I’ll write down her phone number and you can give her a call.”
After the meal Paige volunteered to help clean the kitchen. Harley removed himself to the den area so the two women could girl-talk. Paige was enjoying herself, forging a friendship with Carol Jean. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spent with a female when she wasn’t picking up the tab. Other than Sunny, who was out of town more than half the time, Paige had never had a true girlfriend.
They finished up in the kitchen and joined Harley in the den. He stood when they entered. “Okay, you,” he said to Carol Jean. “Time you got off your feet.” He tugged her toward the sofa. “Here, you sit down. I’ve got your lotion. I’ll give you a foot rub.”
“Is this not the sweetest man ever?” Carol Jean said. “Let me write down something for Paige, then I’m ready.”
Fifteen minutes later Paige departed the Flying C with her future landlord’s phone number in her fist. She considered calling from her cell phone but decided to wait until the next day. She was anxious to get back to her hotel room and talk to her daddy. She had so much to tell him and there was much for him to tell her. Like, for instance, if he knew the full truth about the job at the Flying C, why he had neglected to tell her.
Going to the ranch and seeing Harley again had helped her make a decision. Meeting Carol Jean had been terrific, but the clincher had been seeing the rough way Lester treated the horses for which he was supposed to care.
Driving through town she spotted a battered pickup that looked all too familiar parked in front of Hogg’s Drive-in. For one impetuous moment she considered turning back and going into the hamburger joint. She had run into the pickup’s gorgeous, mysterious owner twice now and both encounters had been disasters. Dare she chance a third meeting?
Something told her to drive on. Could it be common sense? Had the short stay in this small town already started a process practically foreign to her before now? Whatever it was, she liked it. She liked the feel of her newfound independence. She liked the idea of making her own money.
Money? She hadn’t even asked Harley about the pay. Well, drat. She would mark the oversight up to inexperience as a job hunter, but, in truth, it was pure excitement and adrenaline that had clouded her thinking.
Before she knew it she was back in Midland. The time it took to drive from Salt Lick had passed faster than the drive to it. Paige attempted several times to reach Daddy, but she was unable to get a signal. Apparently the wide open spaces of West Texas were beyond Ma Bell’s roaming capabilities.
Oh, well, it was probably best she didn’t talk to Daddy just yet. She didn’t want to let him know she had forgotten to ask about her salary. Yep, before she called him to give him a report or before she called Debbie Sue to rent her house, she would find out the amount of her salary. Wow. Two practical judgment calls within the same day. A pattern could be forming.
She stopped under the canopied entrance to the hotel, giddy with excitement, flashed the valet a killer smile as she alit from the Escalade, and tipped him generously. Back in her room, with some hesitation, she dialed Harley’s number. She felt sure he and Carol Jean had settled in like two lovebirds as soon as she drove off and she hated bothering them. On the third ring Harley answered with a simple “Harley Carruthers” in his “who the hell is this” voice.
“Harley,” Paige gushed, “I’m so sorry to bother you, but before I call about renting a house from someone, I thought I’d better find out how much you plan on paying me. I’m sure I was supposed to negotiate before saying yes to your job offer, but I’m a little green at this. Kind of coming in the back door so to speak.”
“No problem, Paige. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was so happy to hear you say you’d come to work, I forgot to bring it up. Twenty-eight thousand a year. That may not sound like much, but living in Salt Lick is really inexpensive compared to life in the Metroplex. That includes medical and dental of course.”
Paige had her PDA in hand and entered the numbers. It came to about twenty-three hundred a month. Hmmm. She had no idea if that was a good salary for her new job. What she did know was that it was a hell of a lot more than the zero dollars she had been offered before now. “That’s great, Harley. I’m going to head back to Fort Worth tomorrow morning. Provided I have a place to move into, I’ll be back in a few days.”
“No problem. I’m sure you and Debbie Sue can work something out. Tell your dad hello for me and I’ll see you next week.”
The next number she keyed in was Debbie Sue’s. A deep male voice answered, “Overstreet.”
The voice carried an authoritative, commanding tone. Instantly, Paige determined that Buddy Overstreet was the last person she wanted to hear say “Could I see some ID?” “Uh, sir? Could I please speak to Mrs. Overstreet?” To her ear her own voice sounded childlike and shaky.
When Debbie Sue came on, Paige introduced herself and explained she was interested in the rental house.
“Welcome to Salt Lick,” Debbie Sue said. “Where are you and your husband moving from?”
“Oh, I’m not married. It’s just me. I’m moving from Fort Worth.”
“Really?” Paige heard surprise in the question. “Not a lot of single women move to Salt Lick from Fort Worth. In fact, not a lot of single people move here from anywhere, but this week’s been an exception. An unmarried guy came by the shop this afternoon asking about the house.”
“Oh, phooey. I’m too late?”
“No. He decided the rent was a little steep. I’m asking four hundred a month, but the utilities are included and it’s partially furnished. You’ll have to bring your own couch and a chair for the living room. Would you like to see it?”
Paige was bowled over by the amount. The condo in Fort Worth had cost six times that. The utilities alone had run four hundred. “I’ll take it. I don’t need to see it. Carol Jean Carruthers told me it was darling.”
“You know C.J.?”
Paige had learned early in life the benefits to be derived from name-dropping. “I just met her. I had lunch with her and Harley earlier. I’m going to be working at the Flying C, helping the horse handler.”
“Wow. Harley wouldn’t hire just anyone. You must know a lot about horses. I’m surprised Lester Clinton’s standing still for Harley to bring in a woman. He likes women all right, but for different reasons.”
“Let’s just say Lester isn’t too thrilled, but I’m not going to lose sleep over it.”
Debbie Sue let out a wicked laugh. “Paige, you sound like my kind of person. The house is yours.”
eight
The small house the Overstreets had for rent would have been perfect for Spur, but, as usual, he couldn’t afford it.
Spur Atwater had spent his life putting his desires behind his checkbook, had started with nothing and still had most of it left. But thanks to the best education to be had in Texas, maybe his luck was turning. For now, he would live in an RV parked behind the veterinary clinic. Adequate. That was the word he used after looking at the RV, which was offered by Dr. Miller. Adequate was not a word that easily formed on the lips of an overachiever. The word was simply not…adequate.
He and Dr. Miller had hit it off right away. The departing vet would miss his life in Salt Lick but made it clear he had no qualms about Spur being able to handle the practice that had taken years to build. Miller spoke of his new life with excitement. He obviously adored Virginia Pratt. Youthful and attractive, she had a down-to-earth attitude and a wicked sense of humor.
From what Spur could see, Virginia’s daughter, Debbie Sue Overstreet, had the same qualities. She and her husband, Buddy, had already invited him to supper.
They had warned that life for a single person in Salt Lick wasn’t electrifying. Buddy remarked that a fellow might have to travel to Midland or Odessa to meet women to date. Spur couldn’t help but notice Debbie Sue gave her husband a murderous glare.
The point was moot. Spur hadn’t come here to meet women. He had planned his life like a carefully drawn offensive play. He knew exactly what needed to happen and when. Entanglement with a female wasn’t yet in the playbook. Not that he was opposed to a session of casual sex now and then. His roommate in his boxers made it all too clear, and often, that he was being neglected.
ON SATURDAY, PAIGE returned to Salt Lick, her Escalade packed with clothes, shoes, and the kind of accessories that were, in all likelihood, seldom seen in her new location. She had more than enough of what was required for her new job—Wranglers, T-shirts, barn jackets, and boots. In her purse, she had a check for the rent already written. Her daddy had made another investment in her future.
Switching from being a rich student filling empty days with guerrilla shopping sprees and extravagant trips to neat places to horse caretaker in remote West Texas still felt like an out-of-body experience.
Before leaving Fort Worth, she had gone to dinner at the house shared by her daddy and her stepmother, Margaret Ann. When Paige described Salt Lick and outlined her future job, her stepmother’s jaw nearly dropped into the salad. More than the social climber could stand, the thought of a woman getting dirt under her fingernails taking care of animals was, in her words, just so unrefined. All the anguish Paige had suffered up to this point had been worth it just to see her stepmother sputter.
It was late in the afternoon when Paige pulled into the parking lot reserved for the Styling Station’s customers. She had looked forward to this moment and making a good first impression. But not with her material possessions, because from what she had read of Debbie Sue and Edwina, possessions or status would mean little. All Paige wanted was for them to accept her as a good person, not a rich bimbo propped up by her daddy’s wallet.
Sleigh bells whacked the wooden front door and jangled as she entered the Styling Station. From the appearance of the exterior—aged red rock and a rusted tin roof—Paige hadn’t known what to expect inside, but to her surprise, the place was bright and airy with a retro look and very clean.
Two elderly women were seated under the only two hair dryers. One was engrossed in a copy of Truck Stop Confessions. She didn’t look up. The other woman, asleep, was in danger of sliding right off the chair to the floor. With bright auburn hair rolled on green curlers, she looked like a discarded Christmas ornament.
Before Paige could react the woman she recognized from Texas Monthly as being Edwina Perkins emerged from behind a drawn curtain, a lollipop stick extending from the corner of her mouth. “Be with you in just a sec, hon.”
She walked to the dryer, removed the sucker from her mouth, leaned in, and yelled to be heard above the dryer’s roar. “Maudeen?…Maudeen, honey, wake up. You’re about to slide off the chair.”
The old woman roused, mumbling, “Is it better with my teeth in or out?”
“You’ve got about ten more minutes,” Edwina said. “Try to stay awake, hon.”
The elderly woman gave a thumbs-up and her eyes fluttered closed again.
Paige watched with concern. “Are you sure she’s okay? What was that about her teeth?”
“Trust me, it’s probably best not to know.” Holding the lollipop stick between her fingers like a cigarette, the lanky brunette planted the opposite hand on her hip and stared down at the sleeping old lady. “God, I sometimes wonder if these chairs need side rails. She’s slid off a dozen times. I swear she’s just one shampoo and set away from a broken hip.” Edwina looked across her shoulder at Paige. “How can I help you, hon?”
“I’m Paige McBride. I was hoping to catch Debbie Sue here.”
“Oh.” A pause followed. “Debbie Sue told me about you. You’re moving to Salt Lick? Well, welcome. Debbie Sue and her hubby just left to run an errand, but they’ll be back in a little bit.” Edwina looked her up and down in no subtle way. “Make yourself at home.”
Paige knew when she was being sized up. She and the circumstances of her move were bound to have been discussed by Harley’s wife. “I suppose you’re wondering why someone like me would be moving here?”
“Oh, not really. Everybody has to float his own boat, as my honey, Vic, would say.”
The telephone warbled and Edwina excused herself. Her tone of voice changed—all-business, no-nonsense. “Thanks for calling Domestic Equalizers. Don’t run over him, just get over him. How may I help you?” She winked at Paige.
While Edwina scribbled on a notepad, muttering an occasional “Uh-huh” and “I understand completely,” Paige made a quick scan of the salon, starting with the rusty red Mexican tiled floor. Light tan paint covered the walls and woven white curtains hung on the windows. The only other colors were the teal dryer units with matching hoods and the teal Formica station’s countertops. All in all, the Styling Station had the same trappings as many of the salons in which Paige had been a customer.
Personal items scattered about gave the place a comfortable appeal. Paige was inspecting a picture hanging on the wall of a young barrel racer on a paint horse circling a red-white-and-blue oil drum, when the front door’s sleigh bells jangled again. Paige looked toward the door and saw a handsome couple come into the room. The man, wearing a DPS trooper’s uniform, could have been a double for a younger Tom Selleck, and the woman was pretty and physically fit, with red-blond hair halfway down her back.
Oh sure, Paige had seen beautiful people before. She had functioned in their company all her life. High maintenance, well dressed, impeccably groomed. This couple was different. Nothing was overd
one. They were real. This had to be Buddy and Debbie Sue Overstreet.
Buddy apparently didn’t see her. “There’s a high-dollar moving van out front filled with clothes,” he said to Edwina. “Who’s driving it?”
“That would be mine,” Paige answered. She stepped toward the couple and extended her right hand. “Hi, I’m Paige McBride. You must be the Overstreets.”
Debbie Sue looked surprised and shook her hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, Paige.” Buddy followed up with a smile and a firm handshake.
“I guess I should have called. It’s just that I’ve had so much to do. I’ve brought a check for the rent.” She picked up her purse and after rummaging inside, came up with a check for first and last months’ rent and handed it to Debbie Sue.
“We didn’t expect you so soon. Saying good-bye to your friends in Fort Worth must have been easier than you thought it would be.”
“There really wasn’t anyone but my dad. I was hoping I could move into the house today.”
A glance passed between Debbie Sue and Buddy.
“Is there a problem? Oh, I hope it’s still available.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Debbie Sue said. “It’s just that, well, we’ve had some painters in there all day. Their equipment is everywhere. They won’t finish ’til tonight. If I’d known you were coming so soon—”
“Please don’t apologize. I should have called. I’ll go back to Midland and get a room for the night.”
“I don’t mean to tell you how to conduct your business ma’am,” Buddy interjected, pushing the brim of his hat back with two fingers, “but as loaded down as your rig is, it wouldn’t be safe parked just anywhere, not even in an attended garage.”
This tall, deep-voiced man in a Texas Department of Public Safety uniform, with a gun strapped to his belt, was as intimidating in person as his voice had been on the phone. She nodded obediently. “Yessir. You’re right, sir. Of course. I wasn’t thinking. Uh, uh…I’m not sure what to do.”