“You,” she stated without any other greeting, as she pointed a long, tipped blood red fingernail toward me.
“Hello Tina,” I answered back more calmly than my shaking hands felt. The skinny girl had beaten the pulp out of a rather large girl back in high school, and I’d never forgotten the way she’d twisted the poor girl’s hair back while she grinned, crazy-like. I’d just gotten my hair done, and I wasn’t taking any chances. Barbie’d be fit to be tied.
“You always were a sucker for that big loser,” she spat as she eyed me dangerously, “The two of you were so annoying. Everyone always thinking y’all were so damn cute. His mama wouldn’t let me forget how ‘perfect’ the two of you were even if I gagged her. She’d just whip out a picture or something. You don’t know how many times I’ve had to put up with the stuff about you from his family. ‘Oh, did you see in the paper where Lilly made the honor roll? Oh, I saw Lilly’s mama today, she’s moving to Texas to be a lawyer, that sweet thing was always so smart. Oh, did y’all hear that Lilly was getting married to some rich lawyer?’ That one was actually worth hearing just to see the shade of green that came over my husband’s face.” She finished her diatribe with a toss of her bleached hair. I sighed and set my face with an apologetic look. It was a good thing I’d had some acting classes in college, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to pull it off.
“Tina,” I began sincerely, “I am truly sorry if I caused you any grief over the years that I haven’t been here. But honestly, you knew what you were getting with Cash before you married him. I don’t remember him ever makin’ a pretense about pretendin’ to be a nice guy, bless his heart.” I grinned wryly. Tina, however, didn’t see the humor in the situation.
“Let me tell you something, home wrecker. My husband may think that gettin’ a divorce will get rid of me, but I’ll be damned if I let him make a fool of me with the likes of you as his lawyer. I’ve already hired Charlie Locke, and I plan on taking that sorry s.o.b to the cleaners, regardless of who he retains as counsel,” she looked me dead on and pointed that finger again. “A word of warning: he’s going down and you’re going down with him. Bless your heart.” She sneered wickedly and spun on four-inch wedges and stalked out of the salon, her yellow hair fluffing out behind her. Well, hell.
“Well, hell,” Barbie said from behind me. “That girl is mad.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “Thanks again, Barbie. I’ll talk to you later.” I walked out the door, and after a second of contemplation, decided that a cup of tea at Mama’s shop sounded better than me alone with my thoughts at my office.
I unconsciously stalked down Main Street while I replayed the scene from the beauty shop in my head. Apparently, Tina was out for blood, and she’d been harboring a grudge against me for some time. I guess it didn’t help her marriage much when most everyone in town thought that I should have been the one to end up with Cash. Thank the good Lord they hadn’t reproduced. The bell over Mama’s door jangled, and she hung up the phone and turned to regard me with a mixture of sympathy and skepticism.
“Barbie just called. Did that girl really accost you at the shop?” Mama asked as she motioned me to an antique sofa while she sat across from me in the matching chair.
“Yes ma’am,” I answered in resignation. “She’s got it in her head that I had something to do with the breakup of her marriage and wants to make sure the whole town knows it.”
“Well, I can see how she feels that way,” Mama patted my hand consolingly. “But besides that, I’m pretty sure you could take her,” she grinned conspiratorially.
“Mother!” I exclaimed. “I have nothing to do with her and Cash breaking up. And Cash and I most definitely aren’t involved now.”
“You know that. I know that. But does she know that? Does Cash know that?” I squirmed.
“You think that’s what everyone thinks?”
“Probably. But what matters is you’re doing the right thing. You are doing the right thing?” My sweet, Southern mama has never had a problem lasering through the bullshit.
I bristled. “Yes, of course. It’s strictly professional.”
“I guess when it comes to Cash, you’ve always been torn between wanting him and wanting to do the right thing. Too bad you could never reconcile the two. You’d have saved a lot of money in self-help books and yoga classes,” Mama smiled to soften the blow.
“That yoga was not Cash-induced. I wanted to be more bendy,” I defended stubbornly.
“And I’m a natural blond,” Mama released a ladylike snort. I huffed out my breath, not openly agreeing with the truth.
“Okay, so maybe, possibly, I might still be harboring a little thing for Cash. And maybe me wanting to help him is tied up in my old feelings for him. And people will definitely talk. But I can keep my feelings separate, regardless of my motivating factors. I’m a professional. I was sworn in. I passed the bar. Without Cash Stetson, dang it.” I finished my babble and stood up resoundedly. “Thanks for the advice Mama. I gotta go figure out divorce law in Oklahoma.” Mama laughed and nodded at me and my tirade. I walked toward the door.
“Lilly,” Mama called.
“Ma’am?” I turned back around.
“Don’t let them get you down. Keep your head up,” she admonished. “If she gets brave like that again, I can just imagine what that cute little red Mercedes of hers would look like with paintball splatters and road kill all over it.” I shook my head and walked out laughing, Tizzy Lizzie’s bell tinkling over my head and the warm summer sunshine washing over my face and clearing my head. I giggled out loud. Die Bitch.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday morning in Brooks was essential to determining one’s spiritual status. Sunday morning allowed the town’s matriarchs to decide who needed an intervention, who was worthless, and who should be given a second chance. It was their determination, not the big Guy’s. Go figure. Like most small towns in the South, the church options in Brooks were well covered. Within the city limits, the Methodists laid claim to a city block, the Baptists repented for the dancing they’d done the night before, the Pentecostals raised hands, the Catholics drank their wine, the Episcopalians drank more wine than the Catholics, and the Unitarians, Assembly of God, and Church of Christ members, well, honestly I wasn’t sure what they did exactly. I’d never been exposed to them.
In Dallas, I’d attended Highland Park Methodist Church with Van and his parents sporadically, only when it didn’t interfere with brunch at the club. But now that I was back, it was back to First Methodist for me. Mama and Daddy had knocked on the door early this morning to pick us up. Not being able to sleep very soundly, I’d been up since six, making a halfway attempt at some yoga poses, but mostly reading a People magazine and Brooks Mugs, a fine publication bearing all the weekly mug shots and their possible crimes. I didn’t do much tabloid reading when I was in Texas. It was something I’m sure I considered beneath me, and something the evil Ehlers didn’t approve of. But Tally saw no trouble with getting her weekly fix of Hollywood mishaps. Seeing as how she had graced its pages a time or two herself, I think she felt a certain fondness for it. Consequently, due to my early rise, I was dressed and waiting on our parents when they arrived.
Tally wasn’t. She was still twisting around in two different shoes, mascara wand in one hand, toothbrush in the other, when I heard them pull up. I sat down US Weekly with a sigh. I’d get the real dirt from Fae Lynn on all the assumed criminals later.
“Tally, you’re late,” Mama announced before she’d even laid eyes on Tally. Tally clumped out into the living room, left foot sans shoe. Apparently, she’d narrowed down her decision. She fixed Mama with her most stubborn glare and Mama glared right back, winning in short time. Tally clumped back to her bedroom with a disgusted “Ugh,” and Mama just smiled. Daddy rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen to fix his own mug. I sat down next to Mama and started to ask her the price on one of her antique James Audubon prints when Tally burst back through the door. Looking harried, but st
unning, she stuck her tongue out at Mama and grabbed her Coke from me, stalking out the door without a word. Tally so wasn’t a morning person.
The rest of us converged on Mama’s Cadillac and we rode to town, the discussion turning, of course, to Cash and his pending divorce. I tried to claim attorney-client privilege and was only saved when Tally’d had enough caffeine to inform Daddy that she’d put a down payment on the land out by the airport and was bringing in a special “strip mall” architect specialist to help her with the design. Saved, I tuned out the rest of the conversation until we pulled up to the grand old steeple. We got out and headed en masse to the front door. I was consciously aware of many looks tossed in my direction.
Don’t get me wrong, we make quite a picture, my family and I. With my tall, handsome Daddy in his navy pinstripe, my regal mother in her turquoise raw silk sheath (matching pumps and purse of course), my over-the-top sister in a black dress more suited for a cocktail lounge in New York City, and me in my chocolate wrap dress, we were something to look at anyway. But I’d hazard a guess the looks had more to do with my involvement with Cash Stetson and my confrontation with his wife.
I was doing my best to hold my head up and smile sweetly when I felt someone tug on my elbow, bringing my staged carelessness to a halt. The hand at my elbow swung me around until I was facing Kelli Ames. I let out a relieved sigh and grabbed her in a hug.
“Kelli Ames, how are you?” I asked, happy to see a friendly face. She gave me a small smile and I noticed her eyes were smudged with tiredness underneath, and she had a faint cowlick above her left eyebrow. My own eyebrows furrowed a little at these observations. Something didn’t set right. Kelli Ames was almost as uptight as I was. In high school, she had always been perfectly organized, perfectly ironed and well, just perfect. I didn’t get perfect status because I quasi-dated Cash; but she’d been with Mark Ames since the eighth grade, and he was almost as sweet and perfect as she was. Student council rep, citizenship award, reading tutor. They’d gotten married our junior year of college, and she’d worked as a nurse while he went to dentistry school. Last time I talked to her, they were living in Tulsa and talking about having a baby. Maybe that’s why she looked tired, I surmised knowingly, discreetly attempting to check for a baby bump, but noticing instead how skinny she looked.
“I’m okay, Lilly. I’d heard you were back. I’ve been meaning to call you.” I looked at her questioningly.
“Are you just in town for the weekend?” I asked. She shook her head, and I saw her struggle a moment before answering.
“No, I’m back too,” she told me more than a little sadly. I reached out to touch her arm.
“What’s wrong, Kelli?” I asked worriedly.
“Mark’s dead,” she informed me with a twisted smile. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” I fought for words, stunned. No one had mentioned this, and I was not prepared. Struggling, I squeezed her hand.
“How about pie after lunch?” I suggested. Her lips twisted again as she nodded and started to move back toward her family, who I noticed were regarding her with the same expression I was.
“See you at Peggy’s.”
I got through the church service without anyone quizzing me on my own affairs, but I was so preoccupied thinking about Kelli that even if someone had asked me if I’d gotten to keep the ring, I probably would have just shrugged. I tried to focus on the pastor and put aside my thoughts of Mark and how he could have died and why Kelli wanted to speak to me about it. I did not like this new development in my life. People seemed to assume that dead people were my specialty, and it was getting downright depressing. I refrained from strangling my family, who no doubt knew about Mark’s death and had failed to mention it to me.
We went to lunch at Tally’s place, and I ordered her signature turkey burger. Having been created especially for me, I was partial to it. I avoided asking Mama about Mark and Kelli, and begged off the offer of a grocery store trip to walk down the street to Peggy’s. Miss Peggy had the best pie in town. She didn’t serve burgers and hearty food like Tally, but instead fixed whatever she felt like fixing that day, and people generally ate it with pleasure. On Sundays, she only fixed pie, and only the kind she felt like fixing. But all her pie was good, so no one worried.
Kelli was sitting at a small table in the corner and waved at me as I walked over. I greeted Miss Peggy as she popped her head out, and yes ma’am’d when she asked if I wanted peach. I sat down, and Kelli and I chit chatted nonsensically for a few minutes until our pie came and Miss Peggy had left. I could tell Kelli did not want whatever she was about to say to be blasted all over town. I started.
“What’s going on?” I asked. She sighed and twisted her napkin.
“I think I should probably sue over Mark’s death,” she told me without any background to preface it. I nodded uncomprehendingly.
“Who are we suing?”
“The hospital.” I did a quick inward grimace and motioned for her to continue. She sat up straighter. “We were down for the weekend, visiting. We’d decided to take the boat out to the lake. The guys got drunk. And Mark was never one for turning down a dare.” I nodded. “They were doing stupid stuff on some jet skis, and Mark flipped his, and it landed on top of him.”
I drew back, my stomach dropping. She noticed my expression and waved her hand. “That wasn’t it. He’d broken his leg, but we managed to get him out of the water and to the hospital. They set his leg and he was fine. I’d gone to mom’s to get a change of clothes and...” She was fighting the urge to tear up but looked resolute in not crying while telling her story. “When I got back, they said he’d flat-lined and died of a heart attack. It makes no sense, Lilly. Mark was healthy. He ate well. He worked out. There’s no history in his family of heart problems, and he’d just had a physical the week before.” I was listening carefully, but I knew that medically, unexplained things happened sometimes. She looked at me. “I know, it happens. I’m a nurse. I get it. But here’s the weird thing.” She paused and took an angry swipe at her pie.
“We went to the funeral home to make the arrangements, and they said the body hadn’t been released to them. The hospital told them he was an organ donor, and they had to keep it longer.” I cocked my head at her, and she nodded toward my question. “Yeah. So you know how I am, I turned the grief off long enough to haul my happy ass down there to straighten them out. And guess who was manning the morgue? Tina Stetson. I hate her for my own reasons, by the way, not yours.”
I blanched. I didn’t hate Tina. I would throw her a life preserver. I just might not jump in with all my Red Cross certifications. Kelli continued.
“She wouldn’t turn loose of his body. She finally called security after I threatened to whip her and carry him out. I didn’t get my way, of course, and Cash tried to fill me with bullcrap about protocol.” Her lip quivered and the badass in her faded.
“What happened?” I asked. She smiled faintly.
“They delivered the body to Duvall’s the next day. But something is not right, you know? It got me thinking that maybe something didn’t ‘just happen,’ because Tina and Cash were weird.”
“What do you want me to do?” She screwed her face up and regarded me frankly.
“Would you mind checking into it and then seeing if maybe there is something to it? I don’t want to drag it out if I’m just a crazy, bitter wife. But…” she trailed off. “I’ll pay you for your time.” I smiled, attempting reassurance but likely failing miserably. I thought of the five-hundred dollars an hour I’d charged in Dallas and the suggested fifty hours of pro bono work per year.
“Don’t worry about it, Kelli. I’ll look into it and call you. You’re at your parent’s?” She nodded depressingly. I smiled in understanding and turned the conversation to gossip about other people.
Chapter Fourteen
Days later, I sat at my desk composing an email to Amber, alternating thoughts between Cash’s upcoming divorce proceedings, the body released
to Mr. Ronnie, and the one Kelli Ames couldn’t get released. What was worrisome about my free-associative thought process was what brought the two together. Cash being Chief of Staff at a hospital that seemed to be having trouble keeping up with body parts and losing healthy patients to random, freak, medical problems had me a little on edge. Obviously, I had to do a little investigation of my own before I could recommend to Kelli that we sue.
Maybe I’d pay Cash a visit at his office this time, instead of letting him continue to invade my personal space. Although, I was hesitant to introduce one Cash Stetson to any of my musings. I reconsidered my first thought, and picked up the phone to call Fae Lynn to ask her if we knew anyone that worked on the administrative side of the hospital we could take out to lunch and grill. She answered on the first ring. No doubt she was in the dispatch office, headset on, both her cell phone and the landline in front of her, just waiting to pounce on whatever news came through whichever phone.
Fae Lynn was Brooks’ A-number one source of information. People told her stuff. People told me stuff, too, but they typically left out pertinent details, afraid of my judgment. The gossip of Brooks could be in no safer hands than Fae’s; she soaked it up and doled it out in benevolent dictator fashion. She’d tell you what you needed to hear, whether you wanted to or not. And she sure came in handy when I needed a favor. Like now.
“What?” I heard her flick her lighter, bored. Fae Lynn had many vices; cussing, cheap shoes, expensive jewelry, Mountain Dew. The smoking she’d picked up after high school was the only one that really bothered me, but we had a pact that she wouldn’t comment on me being an uptight perfectionist and I would leave her smoking habit criticism to her husband. She was down to a cigarette a day but still kept her lighter handy.
Home Is Where Your Boots Are Page 7