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

by Dixie Cash

  “I’m sorry,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. A home-cooked meal would be great. I haven’t had one since that night at Buddy and Debbie Sue’s house. What time?”

  Paige tried not to show shock. She smiled brightly. “Let’s say six. Any requests?”

  “No, just make plenty. I love home cooking. You wouldn’t know how to make those hot rolls Debbie Sue had, would you?”

  Oh, hell. Hot rolls? Baked bread? She smiled. “I’m sure I could get her recipe. I can probably just whip them right up.”

  “Those were just about the best homemade rolls I ever ate.”

  “Yeah, they were good. I’ll see what I can do.” She could only hope her smile didn’t appear to be as weak as it felt. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

  When Paige climbed back into the Escalade she felt as if she had awakened from a dream. She sat there dumbfounded. Had she just invited Spur to dinner? A dinner that she would cook? And homemade rolls? Mother of God.

  Reinforcements, where are you? Sunny, if ever there’s a time you’re at home, let it be tonight.

  By the time she reached home, Paige’s hunger had been replaced by terror. She keyed Sunny’s phone number in with one hand while she held her burger with the other, continuing the prayer that her friend would answer. To her relief, a voice answered.

  “If you don’t have a damn good reason for calling, hang up.”

  Uh-oh. Sunny must have been asleep. “Sunny? What’s wrong with you? I didn’t wake you up did I?”

  Her friend grunted.

  “But, Sunny, it’s still daytime. It isn’t even eight o’clock.”

  “It isn’t? Oh, hell. I just got in from Spain last night.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were going to Spain.”

  “Ricardo. A guy I met in Reata? We flew over for a flamenco contest. Guess I’m jet-lagged. What day is it?”

  Sunny had a weakness for dark, swarthy men. “It’s Thursday.”

  “Shit. I thought I left Spain on Thursday. God, I hate this. I’ll be a week getting back to Texas time.” She yawned. “So how are things in Hicksville? Ready to come back to civilization yet?”

  Paige felt an unexpected urge to defend Salt Lick. “It’s not so bad here. I’ve met some great people. And guess what?”

  Silence.

  “Sunny?”

  “Hullo. What day is it?”

  “Dammit, Sunny, I said ‘guess what.’”

  “I don’t know. The Four-H team won State? John Deere’s having a sale?”

  It wasn’t fair for city people to make fun of Salt Lick. Paige was tempted to hang up, but she needed her friend’s help in the worst way. “I haven’t been shopping in two weeks. No mall shopping anyway. I went to Benton’s Monuments and Home Accessory Emporium and bought a silk flower arrangement, but that doesn’t really count.”

  The moment the comment was out of her mouth she regretted it because Sunny shrieked with laughter. “Benton’s what?”

  “Never mind. I need to know if I can count on you to help me out Saturday?”

  More silence.

  “Sunny,” Paige yelled.

  “No yo, no estoy solitario.”

  “‘No thanks, I’m not lonely?’ Exactly what did you do in Spain?” Knowing her friend, Paige could only imagine, but she had a more important concern now. “I’ve invited a man over for supper on Saturday and I need you to help me.”

  “I’m not coming to Salt Lick. Gourmet cooking would be wasted on a crude cowboy.”

  “I don’t want you to come here. I just want you to sort of walk me through cooking a meal. Something simple, but good.”

  “Did you say you were going to cook the meal? Whatever possessed you to say such a thing? Is this man someone you want to impress? Because if he is, you’d be better off to stick to black lace and black label, not necessarily in that order.”

  “Of course, I want to impress him. I wouldn’t be calling you otherwise. It’s a really long story, Sun. Can you help me? It would mean so much to me. I need to make yeast rolls.”

  A gutteral sound came from Sunny. “My God, Paige. I spent a whole semester of baking classes trying to master yeast rolls. Forget that.”

  “But he likes homemade rolls.”

  “Who doesn’t? Okay, okay. Do this. Got a pencil and paper handy?”

  Paige rummaged around in the kitchen drawer. She eventually found an ink pen and a grocery store sale flyer.

  “Got it. Go ahead.”

  “Write this down, word for word…Boston.” She paused, giving Paige time to write. “Market…. Got it?”

  “Are you kidding? There’s no Boston Market around here. I want to do this myself.”

  “Honey, you can’t learn to cook over the phone. If this is important to you, do it right. Go buy something. You can let him think you cooked it.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Tell you what. Dessert is the crowning achievement of any meal. Buy the supper, and you make the dessert. We can work on your cooking skills another time, when we have more than a couple of days and a long-distance connection.”

  Maybe Sunny was right. Paige didn’t want to scare Spur off. He had put a lot of emphasis on a home-cooked meal. She would find somewhere to purchase what she needed. Paige remembered how Spur dove into Debbie Sue’s chocolate cake after supper at her and Buddy’s house. “You’re right. I’ll make a cake. He loves chocolate cake.”

  “There you go.”

  “I used to help my mom with cakes when I was little. She let me make the frosting and put it on. I’m not without some talent in the cooking department. A big, gooey, four-layer chocolate cake. How’s that?”

  “That sounds great. But I don’t recommend a layer cake. Try a sheet cake. Let me know how it goes.”

  “What’s a sheet cake?”

  Silence.

  “Sunny?…Sunny, what’s a sheet cake?”

  More silence.

  Oh, dear. Sunny had probably gone back to sleep. Paige sighed and disconnected, supposing she would have to come to terms with the fact that she and Sunny now ran in different circles that were located in different worlds. Paige liked the world she was in just fine and didn’t see how she could ever go back to where she had been before Salt Lick.

  She was excited at the prospect of baking a cake. Did it have to be baked in the oven or could she fix it in the microwave? Normally she didn’t buy anything unless it was microwaveable. She supposed she would be forced to utilize the oven.

  Well, how hard could it be?

  twenty

  Driving into town, Debbie Sue lowered her window so she could enjoy the early October morning. Fall was her favorite season. A crispness and a scent unlike any other time hung in the air. Relief from the unrelenting heat was part of the pleasure, but there was more. She and Buddy had remarried in the fall. She had never been happier than now.

  And she had never been more worried.

  Any other day, she would have driven slower and taken the time to fully enjoy the drive, but not now. She hadn’t slept the past two nights, worrying over Rocket Man. In her entire life in West Texas, she could remember no more than one or two horses that had ever gone missing. Buddy had promised to keep his eyes and ears open, but only she thought there was a serious problem.

  No one knew the exact number of horses missing, but from her perspective, one was too many. An idea had come to her during her worry session, and now she was hell-bent on discussing it with Dr. Spur Atwater.

  As she sped past the Styling Station/Domestic Equalizers she saw Ed’s car in the parking lot. Good. Everyone in Salt Lick was readying for the high school homecoming activities. The Styling Station had a full booking for hairstyles and manicures, but with her trusted friend holding down the fort, Debbie Sue didn’t have to rush to the salon just yet.

  When she reached the vet clinic, she sprang from the cab like a woman on a life-or-death mission, and in a way, that was exactly the case. Seeing an a
ttractive brunette she didn’t know at the receptionist’s desk surprised her. The woman looked up from her computer screen with a friendly smile. “Good morning. May I help you?”

  Whoa! This had to be the attractive woman she and Ed had discussed with Paige. Never being one to hesitate, Debbie Sue walked up and extended her hand. “I’m Debbie Sue Overstreet. We’ve never met. You are…”

  “Electra Phillips. I’m Spur’s—uh, Dr. Atwater’s sister. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Dr. Atwater’s sister! Well, it is so nice to meet you, Electra.” Debbie Sue grabbed her hand and pumped it. “We sure do think a lot of your brother. How nice of you to help him out. Are you from around these parts?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My husband and I have a little place over toward Odessa. I’m only here until Spur—dammit, Dr. Atwater—can find someone permanent.”

  Debbie Sue laughed. “Guess you haven’t gotten used to calling him ‘doctor’ yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. He doesn’t expect it, but I think I should call him doctor. Here in the clinic anyway. He worked so hard for that title I think he should be able to carry it.”

  “I think you’re right. Would Dr. Atwater happen to be where I could talk to him for a minute?”

  “Let me check. Be right back.” Electra disappeared through the doorway leading into the treatment area. Debbie Sue couldn’t help but think of all the times she had seen her mother come and go through that same passageway.

  Electra returned with Spur behind her, drying his hands on a paper towel and smiling. “Debbie Sue. How’s it going? What can I do for you?”

  “Sorry to just drop in on you, Dr. Atwater, but I want to know if you’re familiar with electronic ID tags?”

  “Why are you calling me Dr. Atwater?”

  Debbie Sue glanced at Electra. “I just thought that since I’m here on business—”

  “Nonsense. Call me Spur. I’ll save the doctor title for people I don’t know or don’t like.” He smiled again. No wonder Paige had a crush on him. He had a great smile and good teeth.

  “Now about your question. Yeah. We used electronic tagging extensively at A&M. Mostly on breeding cattle, but something similar is being used in other animals, too. A lot of rescued dogs and cats have been reunited with their owners because of a chip implant. You thinking about putting a chip in Buddy?”

  Debbie Sue grinned. “It’s Rocket Man I’m thinking about. With all the horses that have disappeared, I’ve been worried about him. If someone stole him I don’t know what I’d do. I guess I just love him too much.”

  “The chip implant can give you a little peace of mind, Debbie Sue, but if it’s horse theft you’re worried about, thieves aren’t going to care if the horse has an implant or not. I’ve looked into the disappearing horses a little bit. The fact that the horses have all been older makes me concerned about—well, about—”

  “I know what you’re thinking. Slaughterhouses, right? I’ve been reading about them.”

  A solemn look settled in Spur’s eyes. “Right. I hesitated to say it. But look, the implant only works if someone knows it’s there and has a way to trace it, understand?”

  “You’re going to think this is crazy, but I’ve been wondering about a GPS transmitter.”

  “GPS,” Electra repeated. “Someone had one of those on The Sopranos.”

  “The Sopranos?” Spur gave his sister a look. “Well, GPS would probably work all right. GPS is now being used on dogs and cats, but the animal has to be wearing a collar. The transmitter comes large enough for a good-size dog, but not a horse. Offhand, I don’t know how to get my hands on that equipment, but I’ll research it for you if you’d like.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to. I’ve got access to the equipment. My partner’s husband uses it to help us out now and then at the Equalizers. I just need someone to implant the transmitter.”

  “How big is this chip?”

  “About the size of a dime.”

  “Hmmm. The most logical place for implantation would be subcutaneously on the neck, near the mane. But I don’t know if a signal from an implanted transmitter would be traceable.”

  “Oh, heck.” Debbie Sue hung her head. “I hate to put Rocket Man through having it done if we don’t know it’ll work.”

  Spur put his hand on her shoulder. “Now don’t be upset. There’s always a way. How about a halter? You must have one or two.”

  “Lord, I’ve got a dozen.”

  “Maybe we could put the transmitter on a halter.”

  “Say, I’ve even got a couple with conchos. We could hide it among them.”

  “There you go,” Spur said. “All you have to do is put the halter on Rocket Man at night.”

  “Oh, Spur, you’re a genius. I would have never thought of a halter. And it would save Rocket Man the pain of a surgical implant. Probably nothing will ever happen, but I’d feel so much better if we did that. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “No problem. I’m curious to see how it works. Who’s gonna monitor the signal?”

  “Ed’s husband, Vic. He’s converted one of his and Ed’s bedrooms into a roomful of surveillance devices. He loves helping us. Makes him feel like he’s back in special ops again.”

  “What happens if the receiver loses the transmitter?” Electra asked.

  “It’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen,” Debbie Sue replied. “Once the device is in place, you determine the allowed perimeter. If the host moves beyond that distance a signal is sent to your cell phone. Or you can monitor the movement through an Internet connection. It’s like something out of a James Bond movie.”

  “That’s pretty cool all right. I hope you don’t have to use it, but if you do, let us know how it works. You may be on the cutting edge of something big. My goodness, your name could be on the lips of horse lovers around the world.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” Debbie Sue said. “I just want to make sure Rocket Man’s safe.”

  PAIGE AWOKE FRIDAY morning pondering sheet cake, homemade rolls, and home cooking. She would be working all day Friday and Saturday. When would she bake rolls or a sheet cake, even if she knew how? By noon Saturday she had made a decision. She would follow Sunny’s advice and buy everything already prepared.

  Instead of running all over Midland or Odessa searching for takeout that tasted like home cooking, Paige called the Styling Station. Both Edwina and Debbie Sue had mentioned they didn’t put a high priority on cooking. They must know just the place for a wannabe chef to find great take-out food. Edwina answered and Paige explained her need.

  “Whoa, child,” Edwina said. “You sound nervous. Worse than an old maid at a prison rodeo. You called the right person. I know just the place. Got a pen?”

  Paige paused before reaching for her pen. “This doesn’t start with Boston does it?”

  “Huh? No, it’s Percy’s. It’s on Main and Fifth, downtown Midland. You couldn’t miss it if you tried. It’s just north of Neiman Barkus.”

  Paige’s pulse quickened. She didn’t know Neiman Marcus had a location in West Texas, though there were certainly enough wealthy people in Midland to support the high-end retailer. “Did you say Neiman Marcus?”

  “No, Barkus. With a B. Neiman Barkus. It’s a dog-grooming shop. Tell Percy I sent you. He’ll throw in something extra.”

  No Neiman Marcus. Paige expelled a great breath. It was just as well. Where would she get the money for extravagant goodies anyway? Besides, designer clothes and expensive baubles no longer seemed as important as they had once been. She said her thanks and farewells and headed for Midland.

  Edwina had been right about Percy’s. The owner was a huge black man with a smile more expansive than his stomach. Everything on the menu looked mouthwatering, and he assured her it was. Percy recommended the special of the day—a meat loaf the size of a football, with mashed potatoes, fried okra, and yellow squash casserole.

  “Gots your choice for dessert, Missy. Peach cobbler or carrot cake.”


  “Sir, could you substitute a chocolate sheet cake for carrot cake?”

  Percy’s stomach jiggled as he gave a deep laugh. “You’d have to go to a bakery to get a sheet cake, Missy. That’s an awful lot of cake for one little meal.”

  “Oh,” Paige replied, confused. A sheet cake was becoming a bigger mystery.

  Percy gave her a wink. “If dis be a special meal, I’d go wit’ peach cobbler. I never knowed a man that could resist ol’ Percy’s peach cobbler, ’specially if it’s served up by a pretty lady.”

  Paige felt her face flame, surprised at appearing so obvious. “Okay,” she said. “Peach cobbler it is.”

  Just as Edwina said he would, and to Paige’s great relief, Percy threw in half a dozen free yeast rolls that smelled heavenly. Her cooking challenge had been met in one fell swoop. If only she felt as confident about the rest of the coming dinner date.

  “You tell Miss Edwina,” Percy said as Paige paid out, “jis cuz she gots herself a man that cooks ain’t no reason to forgets ol’ Percy.”

  Paige assured him she would pass along the message. Just under an hour and she was back on the road from Midland to Salt Lick.

  Back at her house Paige transferred the food to her own dishes. Or that is, dishes Debbie Sue had left behind. Voilà! Instant home-cooked meal.

  Another life ago, if she had wanted to impress someone special she would have invited him to dine out at one of the five-star Dallas restaurants she frequented. She was liberated enough to embrace the new norms. If she was the one who extended the invitation, she had no qualms about paying the bill, especially when Daddy was really who picked up the five-hundred-dollar tab at the end of the evening.

  She left the kitchen and gave the living room one more quick inspection. For seating, something more suitable than cheap folding chairs would be nice, but until her bank account became healthier from her own contribution or when she received her inheritance, the lawn chairs would have to do. Maybe they would demonstrate to Spur that she wasn’t a spoiled, had-everything-handed-to-her girl that depended on Daddy for every little thing.