Great, My Heart May Be Broken but My Hair Still Looks Great

by Dixie Cash

  “In town. I’ve rented Debbie Sue and Buddy’s house. I’m so excited. This is my first house. I’ve always lived in condos or town houses.” Paige momentarily forgot her intent not to expose her wealthy upbringing and blathered on. “You know, Debbie Sue, I didn’t mention when we talked about the rent, but I just about fainted when you told me how much. I paid six times that in Fort Worth.”

  “Damn,” Debbie Sue said, looking at Buddy. “Maybe we should raise the rent.”

  Spur set his plate and mug on the end table, his mouth fixed in a grim line. Paige could see a tight muscle working in his jaw. Was he angry at her again? And why? She ran through the earlier conversation, seeking a reason for the abrupt change in his demeanor. What Debbie Sue had said when Paige called her about the house rental came back. A single man looked at the house, but he couldn’t afford the rent.

  She envisioned the trailer where Spur lived.

  Oh, hell. She had put her foot in her mouth again.

  The evening moved forward, but the atmosphere had changed and never returned to the easy fun and relaxation they had felt earlier.

  To her disappointment, Spur soon stood and said, “I’d better go.” He carried his plate and mug toward the kitchen. “I’ve got to make a call at five A.M., at the Roberson place west of town.”

  Buddy rose, too, and followed him. “Five o’clock’s a late start for Dick Roberson. He’s a good man. You’ll like him.”

  Spur came back into the living room and picked up his hat. “Debbie Sue, Buddy, the supper was delicious. Man, I can’t say enough about those homemade rolls and I’ve really enjoyed the visit.”

  Inside Paige panicked. Was he just going to leave without saying another word to her? But then he turned in her direction. “Paige, it was nice to see you again. Good luck on your new job.”

  That’s it? Nice to see you again? Paige couldn’t keep her face from scrunching in frustration. Joining Debbie Sue and Buddy, she walked with Spur to the front porch and watched as he climbed into his battered pickup and drove away.

  Buddy excused himself and headed to the barn to check on Rocket Man, leaving the two women alone, watching Spur’s taillights.

  “He seems nice,” Debbie Sue said.

  “Uh-huh. Nice.”

  “Got his head on straight. Knows what he wants.”

  “Yeah. Knows what he wants.”

  “I bet he had a hard life growing up.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “My mom says adversity builds character.”

  “Character.”

  “I’d venture to bet that what he really wants and needs he’s not even aware of yet.”

  Paige came back to life. “Really? What do you think he wants and needs?”

  “Come help me load the dishwasher and I’ll tell you.”

  THE LIGHTS in the windows of the Overstreets’ house grew smaller in Spur’s rearview mirror as he eased away from their comfortable home. To peel out and race down the long driveway was his first impulse, but spraying dust all over the people who had just fed him the first decent meal he had eaten in weeks would have been bad manners.

  His thoughts settled on Paige McBride. She looked beautiful and sexy, with those long golden-tanned legs. Nothing out of place. The product of wealth. From all the way across the room her blue eyes had pierced him, and against his better judgment, his heart did a cartwheel and his roommate gave him a nudge.

  It wasn’t just her appearance that unnerved him. Good-looking women had thrown themselves at him since he was a teenager. No, with Paige, it was more. If she had remained the spoiled, pampered brat from his first impression, he would have no problem putting her out of his mind. Tonight she had been anything but that. She had been down-to-earth, warm, and funny, even self-deprecating at times. Unless what he saw tonight was an aberration, not only had she been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she also had been given a heart.

  He prioritized and classified living beings into three categories. Animals and people. And women. His usual MO with the latter was to shield himself against any attraction he felt, by bravado or humor and sarcasm. An astute female once called him a porcupine, shooting out his quills when threatened by predators. Whatever. So far it had worked. He had avoided entanglements. Oh, sure, he’d had his share of lusty hookups, usually his roommate’s idea.

  He had worked all evening at not revealing how Paige’s presence affected him. Thankfully, the technique he had carefully crafted to hide his emotions never let him down—not on the football field, not in his dealings with people. Or women. The world was a tough, unstable place, and though he was a planner, a man never knew what tomorrow would bring. The niggling fear had been with him since childhood. To expose his feelings would mean a loss, a loss of what, he wasn’t sure, but losing anything was an unacceptable option.

  His defense mechanism warned him not to tip his hand where Paige McBride was concerned, and he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t make a fool of himself. If the woman he had seen tonight was the exception rather than the rule, she would soon trip up and reveal her true self. Her face was an open book.

  She would be a terrible poker player, but he wasn’t. He had been schooling his face to hide his feelings for his whole life.

  Nope, he wouldn’t show his hand. Not yet anyway.

  eleven

  For Paige, the day started with the delicious aroma of bacon frying, made even more enticing by the fact that someone other than herself was cooking it.

  A little note of excitement tripped along inside her. Today was all about moving into and working on her new home. Debbie Sue had given a detailed description of the house, and Paige couldn’t wait to see it.

  She had tons of things to do, like buying a few groceries, buying curtains. Just transferring everything from her SUV into the house would take a while. Luckily it was only Thursday, and Harley didn’t expect her until Monday. Between now and then, she might even squeeze in a pedicure.

  Oops. Wrong thought. Pedicures were not in her budget at the present time.

  She showered and slipped into her loose-fitting comfy jeans, a pale pink soft sweater, socks, and a pair of Roper clogs. After banding her hair into a ponytail, from which unruly curls broke free and framed her face, she applied only scant makeup.

  She stayed true to one of her tenets: if you can’t win ’em over with your personality, dazzle ’em with your accessories. Therefore, she chose one of her favorite pairs of earrings, a small flower molded of sterling silver with petals of cultured pearl and a pink tourmaline center stone hanging from a fourteen-karat gold hoop. Tiny. Not showy, but gorgeous just the same. Wearing the delicate earrings had always made her feel feminine.

  She was ready to face the day.

  When she walked into the kitchen, Debbie Sue looked up from scrambling eggs at the stove. “Well, don’t you look cute.”

  “Thanks.” Paige set her two suitcases on the floor and positioned her purse on top. She grabbed a slice of bacon from a platter.

  “These eggs will be done in just a minute,” Debbie Sue said.

  “I am so excited to be moving into the house, Debbie Sue. I scarcely slept at all last night.”

  “Lord, I hate moving with a passion. The only good thing about it is that I throw away a lot of crap I didn’t need anyway.” Debbie Sue handed a plate to Paige. “Here, hold this.”

  “This will be the first place that will be all mine, that I picked out without Daddy’s and my stepmother’s approval. And I’ll be paying the rent and the bills. With money I’ve earned.”

  “It doesn’t take much to excite you, does it?” Debbie Sue scooped the scrambled eggs onto the plate. “Would you look at that? I didn’t even burn them.”

  “Looks great,” Paige said, feeling that she and Debbie Sue had formed a friendship. “If anyone had told me six months ago I’d be doing this, I’d have said they were crazy. This freedom forced on me by Daddy is addictive. I honestly hope I don’t ever need to go back to having him take care of my every n
eed.”

  “Someone taking care of my every need,” Debbie Sue said. “What a wonderful thought. I think I’d like that kind of life.”

  “You would not. You could never be a pampered pet. You’re too strong and independent. Besides, I think the life you have with Buddy is pretty wonderful.”

  “Don’t let this strong and independent facade fool you. When Buddy and I were divorced I was a wreck. Now that we’re together again, it is pretty wonderful. Sometimes we argue like cats and dogs, but more often than not, we take two steps forward but only one step back. Nope, I’ve tried it without him and I never want to do it again.” Debbie Sue picked up her mug and took a long sip of her coffee.

  “Where is Buddy this morning?”

  “Oh, he leaves early. His territory goes all the way to Ozona. So, how long do you think it’ll be before your dad comes for a visit? I’m betting he’ll want to see your new living arrangement.”

  “I’d love for him to come. I just hope, if he does, he doesn’t bring Margaret Ann. She’s my stepmother.”

  “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like you like her much.”

  “That’s fair to say. I think the main reason daddy married her was because he wanted someone to help him give me a proper upbringing. He’s gone from home more than half the time.”

  Debbie Sue smiled. “That word proper leaves a lot to interpretation.”

  “Funny, but the very thing Margaret Ann tried so hard to keep me away from is now going to be my livelihood.”

  Debbie Sue looked surprised. “You mean horses? Why in the world would she want to keep you away from horses?”

  “Too dirty. Too unrefined. I’ve always thought she was afraid me having horses would keep the memory of my mom alive. Margaret Ann’s so territorial she’s afraid of competition, even from a woman who’s dead.”

  “Has she ever been to a cutting horse event? Some of the most refined women I’ve ever seen compete in those shows. And rich. Did I mention rich? That doesn’t even take into consideration the bank accounts of the spectators.”

  “A cutting horse show would be beneath Margaret Ann.”

  “Is she a Texan? She sounds a little blue-blooded.”

  Paige couldn’t stop a mischievous grin. “I’ve never seen her blood, but there’s always that hope.”

  Debbie Sue grinned, too. “Meow.”

  “What about your mom?” Paige asked. “I understand she’s doing great things in Nashville. I love ‘I’ll Get Over You Tomorrow, Just Come Back to Bed Tonight.’”

  “Toby Keith singing it, too. Cool, huh? I tease her about her song titles all the time. I think they come from a part of her life I’d just as soon not know about.”

  Debbie Sue rose from the table. “Listen, I gotta’ scoot. Ed and I’ve got a busy day. But take your time. Have more coffee.”

  “Thanks, but I need to go, too. I’ll follow you into town.”

  Paige, still new at forming a real friendship, wasn’t sure if she should hug Debbie Sue, shake her hand, or simply exit. Before she could decide, Debbie Sue wrapped her in a big hug. “Glad you were able to spend the night, kiddo. I hope you like the house, and if there’s anything, anything at all, you need today, you know where to find me.”

  Paige returned the hug. “I can’t thank you enough, Debbie Sue. Tell Buddy I appreciate the hospitality.”

  “You can tell him yourself. We’ll be seeing each other again.” Debbie Sue lifted her keys from a hook near the doorway. “Don’t forget what I told you last night about Spur. He’s a guy who’s gonna need a lot of space. Don’t push, but always leave him something to think about.”

  As Paige followed Debbie Sue into Salt Lick, she considered the advice of a woman who had to be at least five years older and who had landed one of the good guys, not once, but twice. Paige felt sure she hadn’t pushed anything when it came to Spur and knew without a doubt she’d left him with things to think about. Unfortunately, they were auto repair, a visit to the doctor, and the image of her being a spoiled, overprivileged brat.

  As directed, she turned right at the first paved street. Left two blocks down and the third house on the left was hers. One, two…and she was there.

  In size, the small house resembled the playhouse she had as a child—larger, but not much. It was immaculate. Off-white clapboard siding and barn red shutters framing the windows gave it a festive look. The front door was the same shade of red as the shutters.

  Pulling into the driveway she could barely contain her excitement. In her mind she placed geraniums and begonias in clay pots on the front porch. She took a deep breath as she plugged the key into the lock. The door opened with a little push, and here she was. Home.

  Hardwood floors gleamed. She could smell fresh paint. The living room was small and cozy. To her left was a dining area just off the kitchen. New white appliances shone against the black-and-white-tiled kitchen floor. She crossed the living area to a hallway with an arched entrance. Three doors later she found a surprisingly large master bedroom and bath. Cool. There was no other word to describe her surroundings. By the time she finished decorating and adding her personal touches, even Margaret Ann would approve.

  A reedy voice calling from the living room startled her. “Hello?…Hello?”

  Paige walked toward the sound and stopped in the doorway. An elderly woman stood in the middle of the room with a foil-wrapped casserole dish in her hands. No more than five feet tall and ninety pounds dripping wet, she had on an assortment of colorful sweatshirts and sweaters. Her pants looked like flannel pajama bottoms, and Dallas Cowboy house slippers swallowed her feet.

  “May I help you?” Paige asked.

  Owl-like glasses perched high on the woman’s nose overpowered her face and magnified her eyes. She addressed the floor lamp near the windows that looked out on the backyard. “I’m Koweba Sanders. I live across the street. Welcome to the neighborhood. I figured you hadn’t had time to do any cooking, so I brought a little something over.” She thrust the casserole dish at the floor lamp.

  Paige moved in front of the woman and took the dish before it hit the floor. “Oh, how kind. My name’s Paige McBride.”

  “I don’t know what kind. I keep these made up in the freezer in case someone dies or gets laid up. You know, Pat, in a town like Salt Lick, funerals and broken hips are just a part of everyday life.”

  “It’s Paige, ma’am.”

  The visitor frowned in puzzlement. “I don’t know if I put sage in it or not. Probably not, but I wouldn’t swear to it. I usually only put sage in corn bread dressing.”

  “This is so nice,” Paige replied in defeat.

  “Rice? Now, it might have rice. Sometimes I do use rice. Say, you’re a picky eater, ain’t you, Pat?”

  “It’s Paige, ma’am. Paige McBride.”

  “McWright?” Miz Sanders shouted. “Any kin to the McWrights in Stonewall County?”

  Paige raised her voice. “No, ma’am, it’s McBride. Paige McBride.”

  “Why, Pat, I’ve known the McWrights all my life.” Miz Sanders smiled, showing bright white dentures.

  Paige smiled, moved to the dining area, and set the casserole on the table. She turned one of the chairs toward her visitor. “Would you like to sit down?” She yelled this time, loud enough for every neighbor to hear.

  “Nope. Gotta go. Gotta drive to town and pick up my mail. Need to get back before my soaps come on. I watch Bridget and Nick on The Bold and the Beautiful. They remind me of my fifth husband.”

  The thought of Koweba Sanders behind the wheel was unnerving. Following her to the door, Paige yelled, “I’m going to town later. Could I pick up your mail for you? It’d be no trouble.”

  “No thanks, Pat. Mom lives with me now, and she likes to get out of the house.” She leaned forward and whispered, “We don’t let her drive anymore, so a ride to town keeps her happy.”

  Paige was lost for a response. As Miz Sanders shuffled out the front door, Paige made a mental note to be cautious while driving in th
e neighborhood.

  The upside of the visit was she now had lunch. She returned to the casserole on the dining table and noticed a piece of masking tape across the top of the foil. Written in a shaky scrawl was a date: June 3, 2000.

  Oops. Maybe today was a good day for lunch at Hogg’s.

  SPUR SCRATCHED the stubble on his chin and tried to concentrate on the application in his hand. Hiring a receptionist had not been the piece of cake he had anticipated. Most of the women in Salt Lick who needed or wanted to work drove into Midland or Odessa. He couldn’t compete with the salaries and benefits of the neighboring small cities. The leftovers in Salt Lick proved to be slim pickings. His concentration wasn’t enhanced by the fact that the overweight young woman sitting across from him periodically blew a huge pink bubble, then slurped it back into her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” Spur said, “but could we get rid of that gum for right now?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” The girl swallowed with apparent effort.

  Spur stared at her, a little alarmed. “I didn’t mean you had to swallow it.”

  “That’s okay. I do it all the time.” She began to bounce her knee in a rapid rhythm.

  “Uh, okay. Your name’s Judy?”

  “Yeah. Judi with an i.”

  “Got it.” He nodded in a show of understanding and continued reading the page. “Oh, yes. I can see that here. The i’s underlined three times. Thanks. Uh…I see you worked at Kmart in customer service? Good. Did you enjoy that job?”

  “I hated it.” She began to dig at her cuticles.

  “Really? What did you hate about it?”

  “Working with people. I hate working with people. That’s one of the reasons I thought I’d do good here.”

  “But, Judi,” Spur started slowly, “you’d have to work with people here. As a receptionist you’d be greeting people all day.”

  “I thought I’d be working with animals.”

  “Well, you would. But the animals have owners. The owners have to be dealt with also. You’d be answering the phone, setting up appointments. You have to greet the owners when they come in and you have to collect the money—”