“But you’re not broken,” Tee said, his dark brown eyes crinkling with amusement. “And I, for one, happen to like your hairdo. And your wardrobe.” He ran his finger down my shoulder, and I shivered. “Especially this part of your wardrobe. I like.”
“You’re sweet,” I said gratefully. “But clueless. Anyway, I finally did manage to find the backbone to let her know tonight that I don’t want to be made over. She was hurt, at first, but I think maybe we’re making some progress with this whole mother-daughter thing.” I fingered my charm necklace. “She made this for me today. All the charms have a family connection.” I ticked off the meaning of the baubles as I touched them. “And here’s the funny part, Tee. Ella Kate gave her all these things. She told Lynda she’s been saving them up. For family.”
Lynda turned around then. “What’s all the whispering about back there, you two? Some little lovers’ secrets?”
I felt my face burn. Tee laughed easily. “Dempsey’s just telling me about this awesome necklace you made for her. I had no idea her mother was such a talented artist.”
Lynda beamed. “Not an artist, really,” she said. “Just a tinkerer.”
“Don’t let her kid you,” I said. “Lynda’s jewelry is hot, hot, hot. She sells to shops in Beverly Hills, and even Palm Beach. And wait until you see the magic she worked in the parlor this afternoon. If I thought I could afford her, I’d try to hire her on as an interior designer for Birdsong.”
Lynda blew me an air kiss, and turned around to resume her conversation with Carter.
“That was nice,” Tee said softly, giving my hand an approving squeeze.
“I can play nice sometimes,” I admitted, snuggling back against the warmth of his arm.
“You are playing nice, agreeing to be dragged along to this stupid dance,” Tee murmured. “It was Dad’s idea, and I couldn’t talk him out of it. You and I will be the only ones there without a walker or a wheelchair.”
“You’re exaggerating,” I said. “Carter’s not exactly drooling in his tapioca, you know. And, don’t forget Lynda. Mentally, anyway, she’s younger than both of us.”
“Oh, it looks just like I remember it,” Lynda said as we walked into the entry hall at Pine Blossom. “Except, what happened to the little fountain out front?”
“You’ve been here before?” Carter asked, startled. “But it was my understanding Mitch hasn’t been back here since his mother died years and years ago.”
“Of course I have,” Lynda said. “Mitch had absolutely no interest in coming down to Guthrie, but there was no way I was marrying a man—and having his child—without seeing his roots firsthand. I met Uncle Norbert, and some distant cousins back then, but it’s been so long ago, it all seems sort of hazy now. So much has changed, especially with the mill closed, but then again, some things really are frozen in time, aren’t they?”
“Frozen in time,” Tee said, with a guffaw. “That’s Guthrie, all right. And as for the fountain, it’s been gone for years now. Right, Dad?”
“The fountain met its demise after Bunky Patterson backed into it with his banana yellow Coupe deVille and knocked the statue of Venus de Milo on her derriere,” Carter said. “I believe that was shortly after he hit a hole in one at the member-guest invitational and proceeded to drink his way through an entire case of Budweiser. It was the second time that a member had unwittingly dethroned Miss de Milo, and at that point, the board wisely decided to widen the driveway and porte cochere and do away with the fountain. I believe that would have been sometime in the seventies.”
The Pine Blossom Country Club dinner-dance was obviously the social event of the season in Guthrie. Every table in the dining room was full. The men were dressed in dark suits, the women in cocktail attire—or the Guthrie version of it, which mostly seemed to consist of black dresses and pearls, lots and lots of pearls. I even noticed a few mink coats thrown across chair backs. And yes—I did spot a few walkers and at least one wheelchair. The crowd was, as Tee had predicted, mostly middle-aged or older.
Heads turned as we walked to Carter’s table in the main dining room, but Lynda took it all in stride, nodding and smiling to the barely disguised curiosity she was arousing among Guthrie’s country-club set.
“This is so nice,” Lynda said when we were seated, looking over the table, with its heavy damask cloth, silver candlesticks, sparkling crystal, and old-fashioned arrangement of roses and ferns. “Everything’s so casual in California, it’s a treat to get dressed up and go somewhere where everything is so special.”
“Well, Tee and I are delighted that you agreed to be our guests tonight,” Carter said, beaming at Lynda’s approval. He lowered his voice. “And may I say that the two of you are undoubtedly the loveliest ladies in the room?”
Lynda giggled. I blushed. Tee squeezed my hand under the table.
We made it through the cocktail hour without incident. Lynda was thrilled to discover that the bar at Pine Blossom carried Stoli, and that the bartender in a backwater such as Guthrie could manage to mix a decent martini. She and Carter sipped their martinis and chatted away, Tee drank Bud on draft, and I myself welcomed the burn of Wild Turkey on the rocks.
When the waiter arrived to take our dinner orders, I held my breath. Lynda looked at the menu—which was heavy on all forms of beef, pork, and chicken—and frowned slightly. “The salmon—is it wild salmon or farm raised?” she asked.
The waiter looked dumbfounded. “It’s just…salmon, I guess,” he stammered. “They don’t tell us where they get it.”
“Hmm. What about the tuna?” she asked. “Is it dolphin safe?”
“Huh?”
She sighed. “All right. I guess I’ll just have a large house salad. Dressing on the side. And another Stoli martini.”
The band started setting up as our entrées arrived. “Check it out,” Tee said quietly, cutting his eyes in the direction of the bandstand. “Mötley Crüe they ain’t.” The five band members were silver haired, and dressed in throwback prom tuxedos complete with matching ruffled peach shirts and bell-bottom trousers.
“See the drummer?” Tee said under his breath. “That’s Bert Fleishman. Mr. Fleishman was my high school chemistry teacher. And we all thought he was ancient back then. Faye Fleishman, his wife, was the home ec teacher. I think maybe she makes all their gig outfits.”
We were finishing our entrées, and the band was still tuning up, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Shirlene Peppers and Jimmy Maynard standing hand in hand beside our table.
“Jimmy,” I blurted out. “You’re wearing pants!”
“And a tie,” Shirlene pointed out. “I’m tellin’ ya, it’s the second coming.”
Jimmy Maynard was, in fact, wearing a natty blue blazer, charcoal slacks, and even the aforementioned tie, a yellow-and-red rep-striped affair. He looked only a little uncomfortable. Shirlene looked an absolute bombshell in a tight-fitting, short, candy apple red satin two-piece dinner suit, and rhinestone-encrusted silver lamé pumps that I was pretty sure were Manolos. Her long dark hair was down tonight, but I could see the gleam of diamond solitaire earrings that looked to be at least two carats apiece.
“Weeellll,” Jimmy drawled. “I was gonna stick to my guns and wear my shorts. But then I got over to Shirlene’s place, and seen what a knockout she was in that red getup of hers, and I said, ‘Son, it’s time to do the right thing.’ So I went on home and dug some long britches out of the mothballs.”
Shirlene patted his head affectionately. “Our little boy is growing up,” she laughed.
Jimmy nodded in the direction of Lynda. “You didn’t tell me you had a sister.”
Lynda giggled appreciatively, and I made the introductions. “This is my mother, Lynda Hayes, who is visiting from California, and Lynda, this is Jimmy Maynard. Jimmy sells real estate, and he paints houses—my house in particular—as a hobby. And, Lynda, this is Shirlene Peppers. She’s a lawyer here in Guthrie.”
“County attorney,” Carter p
ointed out. “And a mighty fine one too.”
After that, Carter insisted that Shirlene and Jimmy pull up chairs and join our table. Somehow, Jimmy ended up beside Lynda, and Shirlene ended up beside Carter. The band started playing a tune I didn’t recognize, something from the ’40s big band era, I thought, and couples slowly drifted onto the dance floor.
When the second number started, another golden oldie, Carter managed to coax Lynda—with very little effort—onto the floor. They were quite a picture, the silver-haired Carter, with his erect posture and courtly ways, and my mother, fluttering and floating elegantly around the floor.
“Somebody’s had some lessons,” Jimmy said, never taking his eyes off them.
Tee leaned toward me. “Shall we join them?”
“Maybe something a little more upbeat,” I begged off. “I haven’t waltzed since seventh-grade cotillion.”
“Baby, I hate to break it to you,” Tee drawled, “but Dad’s been dragging me to dances here at the club for years, and this is about as upbeat as it gets.”
Nonetheless, the band did break into some beach music a few numbers later, and Tee and I had our first dance together. It was “With This Ring.” We sang along to the band, and I managed to do a respectable shag, which, Tee said, only reaffirmed his opinion that I was totally the girl for him.
When we got back to the table, laughing and out of breath, Lynda and Jimmy were just getting up for the next dance. Carter, being Carter, asked Shirlene to dance, and Tee and I escaped out to the terrace.
I was glad of the cool night air, and gladder still for my pashmina, and the warmth of Tee’s arms around me, as he expertly eased me behind a huge camellia bush. “Let’s blow this pop stand,” he said, nuzzling my neck. “I love the way you look in this dress, but I’m gonna love gettin’ you out of it even more.”
“Can’t,” I said, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching. “Remember? We came in your dad’s car? Anyway, my mom’s staying with me, remember?”
“She won’t care,” Tee said. “Your mom’s having the time of her life.” He pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. “C’mon. I can call us a cab. We can be back at my place in half an hour.”
He kissed me deeply, as if to seal the deal.
“Mmmm,” I said, full of regret. “There aren’t any cabs in Guthrie.”
“Sure there are,” he said. “Ace Ballou at Town and Country Cab. He’s parked outside at the curb right now, just waiting to take home Guthrie’s finest who are too drunk to drive and too old to walk home.”
“Last I heard, your place had a tree on the roof.”
“Your place then,” he said. “It’s after nine. Ella Kate will be asleep.”
“Lynda’s taken over my bedroom. I’m sleeping on Norbert’s twin bed. And anyway, what do we tell everybody at the table? ‘Sorry—we’re going home to do the mattress dance?’”
He laughed at that one. “I don’t give a damn what you tell ’em, as long as it’s bye-bye. Hell, for that matter, we could go out to the Mercedes for a little while. I’ve got a set of keys—”
I gave him one long, deep, meaningful kiss, then pulled away. “Tempting, Tee. Very tempting. But we just can’t. Not tonight. I’m getting cold, and people are going to start assuming we are doing the mattress dance out here if we don’t go back to the table.”
He grumbled, but allowed himself to be dragged back inside. Lynda and Jimmy Maynard were alone at the table, looking very cozy, with Jimmy’s arm draped casually around her shoulder and their heads touching. Lynda was giggling at something he was saying as I sat down.
Carter and Shirlene walked up just then too, and I saw, at a glance, that Shirlene was not nearly as amused by Jimmy as my mother was. As Shirlene sat down, I stood up again. I tugged Lynda’s arm.
“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” I announced. “Mom, want to freshen your makeup?”
She didn’t even glance up at me. “No thanks,” she said.
I tugged her arm again. “How about freshening mine? My hair’s a mess, and you always could do it better than me.”
She turned around to give me an annoyed look, but I shot her my look back, so, with a sigh, she excused herself.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked when we were in the ladies’ room. “You never liked the way I did your hair. And your makeup is just fine.”
I took my lipstick out of my bag and reapplied it anyway. “It’s about Jimmy,” I said, turning to her. “Lynda, you need to turn off the charm.”
“What? We were just flirting. It’s all very harmless.”
“To you, maybe. But Jimmy’s like a diabetic in a candy store. He can’t resist a pretty lady. And the thing is, I’m pretty sure he and Shirlene are trying to get back together.”
“Well, who’s stopping them?” she said, a note of annoyance in her voice. “And what do you mean—back together?”
“They were married once. To each other. I don’t think she ever really got over Jimmy. And he’s just lately starting to realize what he’s missing out on. Don’t screw that up for them. Please?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she said, clearly exasperated with me. “I’m just trying to have a little fun. Why are you being such a Goody Two-shoes all of a sudden?”
“What about Leonard? Why don’t you go home and have fun with him?”
She pulled a tissue from the container on the bathroom counter and began blotting her lips with it. “Leonard’s not a whole lot of fun these days,” she said. “Not since good ol’ Ed showed up.”
“Ed? Who’s Ed?”
She arched an eyebrow. “ED,” she whispered. “As in erectile dysfunction.”
A tiny giggle echoed through the tiled bathroom. We both whirled around in time to see a woman emerging from the first stall.
Lynda bristled. “It’s not funny.”
The woman scuttled out of the room without even pausing to wash her hands.
And then we heard a toilet flushing, and the rustle of satin, and then an older woman, walking slowly on flat-heeled shoes, emerged from the second stall.
She looked from me to Lynda. “No, honey, you got that right. It sure as hell ain’t funny.”
59
“Dempsey?” Carter tapped me on the shoulder and held out his hand. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
The band was playing a slow song—“The Twelfth of Never”—and couples were drifting out onto the dance floor, including Lynda, who’d managed to drag Tee out of his chair.
I hesitated. “Carter—I’m a terrible slow dancer. I’ll step all over your toes.”
“Never!” he said, leading me onto the floor. He took my right hand in his, and gently touched the small of my back. “Just relax and follow me.”
True to his word, Carter was a superb dance partner. In a moment, we were gliding around the dance floor, and if we weren’t exactly Fred and Ginger, at least we weren’t Fred and Wilma.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you all evening,” Carter said, his voice low. “But I can’t seem to pry you away from my son.”
“You’ve been pretty popular with the ladies yourself,” I pointed out.
“Oh, women humor me because I’m so old,” Carter said. “Anyway, I wanted to hear how it went on your trial run with the FBI today.”
“You knew about that?”
“Oh yes. In fact, they dropped off the agreement from the U.S. attorney’s office before they went over to see you.”
“Does it look all right?”
He shrugged. “I think we’ve gotten the best possible deal from them that we’re going to get. We didn’t get everything I would have liked, but I’m satisfied now that the Justice Department will not pursue charges against you. And that we have it in writing.”
“Thank God!” I said. “Now all I have to do is face down Alex Hodder, and get him to say just enough about his relationship with Tony Licata to land himself in prison.”
“Can you do that?”
�
�We’ll see,” I said. “The agents make it seem very simple and cut and dried. The spot they picked for the meeting is a little church way out in the country. They’ve already got it wired for film and sound. So all I have to do is get him to talk about Licata and that weekend in Lyford Cay. The thing is, I just don’t believe he’s ever going to admit—even to me—that he instructed me to hire that call girl for Licata. Even when we talked on the phone he tried to tell me I’d ‘misunderstood’ his intentions. He’s such a slippery slimeball.”
Carter nodded thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t worry too much about getting him to implicate himself. The simple fact that he is coming down here to pay you to hand over the only real hard evidence against him in this bribery scheme should be enough to prove a public-corruption charge against him. These people at Justice aren’t stupid. They say and do some stupid things, yes, but they are not unintelligent. I have a feeling they probably have other evidence against Licata—and your Alex Hodder—that we don’t know about.”
“God, I hope so,” I said fervently. “I truly cannot wait for this whole ordeal to be done with.”
“After Monday, the worst of it should be in the past,” Carter said. “Have you thought about what happens after that?”
“You mean a trial, that kind of thing?”
“I mean you,” Carter said. He looked down at me and smiled. “What happens to Dempsey Killebrew after her involuntary exile is over?”
I guess I blushed.
“Will you listen to me?” Carter said, tsk-tsking. “I sound like a high school guidance counselor. I guess it comes with age, this compulsion to pry into other people’s lives. Do as Tee does, my dear, and ignore me.”
“You’re not prying,” I told him. “You’re a friend. A good friend.” I grinned. “Are you wondering if my intentions toward your son are completely honorable?”
He threw his silver head back and laughed. “Something like that. You’ll have to forgive a father for wanting to see his son happy. And may I say, you seem to make him very happy, Dempsey?”
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