Genny's Ballad: The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series, Book 5

by Becki Willis

  “Good, good. Unlike you, I never left The Sisters.”

  Did she detect a note of envy in her voice? Or was that disdain? Madison chose to ignore either possibility and offered an encouraging smile. “I understand you have a business now. It sounds very interesting. Tell me about it.”

  Ellen McDaniel was clearly pleased to take the spotlight. She sat up straighter in her seat and launched into a long self-flattering spiel. “Yes, I’ve started a wonderful new service called ReFresh. We’ve had amazing success. My calendar is so full I barely had time to squeeze you in today. I’ve taken the tired old housekeeping service and refreshed it with the hot new trend of re-purposing old objects and things homeowners have on hand. We go into people’s homes, clean from the baseboards up, and, for a nominal fee, offer re-decorating services. We give rooms a new look by moving things around, adjusting the flow of traffic, creating focal points, refreshing tired old vignettes, that sort of thing. Of course, for just a few dollars more, we can bring in a special piece here and there, add a little something new. People love it. We’ve gotten rave reviews and wonderful word-of-mouth testimonials. Did you look us up on the internet? You’ll see we have a solid five-star rating.”

  “I saw that,” Madison agreed. She also saw that, while each person did indeed give the service the highest rating possible, the customers often made contradictory remarks in their written reviews. The most repeated complaint was that the homeowners often could not find a particular item after the refresh. All admitted that the items were small and trivial and that, overall, they were quite pleased with the results.

  “You know, you might be interested in our services once you move into that big old mansion. I know you have a fancy-dancy designer decorating for you, but we all know they arrange things more for the camera than for real-life. And even if you don’t need our decorating services, I’m sure you could use our cleaning services. Upkeep on a house that size will be a nightmare! How many bedrooms does it have?”

  Madison did a quick tally in her head. A bedroom on the first floor, should Granny Bert ever need to move in. Bethani’s suite on the third floor. Hers, Blake’s, and three guest rooms on the second floor.

  “Seven.”

  “Oh, my, you definitely need us!” Ellen produced a business card and slid it across the table. “I’ll be happy to stop by and give you an estimate. When shall I come?”

  “I’ve been banned from the house until the final reveal,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

  “You’re kidding! All that is real?”

  “Very much so, I’m afraid. We’ve seen two of the rooms. That reveal will air Tuesday night. But the final reveal will be filmed live next week, during Homecoming Week.” Madison tried not to sound as overwhelmed as she felt. “As if next week isn’t stressful enough with all the events taking place. Being the Centennial Celebration, it’s going to be more hectic than usual. Amanda is trying to capture the ‘small-town Americana feel’, but I think she’s just going to capture the chaos.”

  “I think Amanda Hooper is brilliant, simply brilliant! In fact, I have a proposal I would like to pitch to her. I think ReFresh would make a wonderful television show for HOME TV, don’t you?”

  “Oh, well, I—”

  “In fact, you could put in a good word for me!” Ellen said with a bright smile. She clasped her hands together as a thought occurred to her. “Oh, I know! You could slip our name in when you are doing the reveal. Say something about a house that size being too much to handle and that you’ll have to depend on a wonderful new local service owned by your old friend from high school. Don’t forget my married name is McDaniel now, no ‘s.’ Oh, this will be perfect!” She all but squealed in excitement.

  “I can’t make any promises, you know,” Madison was quick to say. “And you wouldn’t believe how much gets cut from every scene. We might film for an hour or more, and only two minutes of it will make the final cut.”

  “You’ll just have to tell your producer how important it is to you.”

  From the moment Madison first met her, there was something about Ellen McDaniel that did not set well. Trying to give the other woman the benefit of the doubt, Madison did her best to separate her feelings toward Kayla from her feelings toward the sister. But this was too much. Her overbearing personality and bossy attitude made her unlikeable, all on her own.

  Madison made no commitment. “We’ll see.” She tucked the business card into her purse and addressed the reason for their meeting. “I asked you to meet with me today for a specific reason, Ellen. I would like to ask you a few questions about one of your clients, Mrs. McSwain. You had her in high school, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. For over forty years, she taught every student that walked through those doors.”

  “It’s heart-breaking to see the shape she’s in now.”

  “Tell me about it!” Ellen rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You should try having her as a client! The old bat is senile. One minute her mind is as clear as a bell, the next minute she wants me to clean her Donny Ray’s room before he gets home from school. Donny Ray graduated with my mother! But you can’t tell her that, not when she’s in ‘the zone.’ The loony zone, that is.”

  Madison pressed her lips together, determined not to tell the other woman what she thought of her cruel and mean-spirited statements. “Actually, I do have Mrs. McSwain as a client,” she said in a clipped tone. “She has hired me to find a missing recliner.”

  “You mean that horrendous creation she is so proud of? The orange and white monstrosity her husband paid someone to make?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Can you tell me what happened to it?”

  A shrewd light came into Ellen McDaniel’s eyes. “Maybe,” she said, her mouth twisting in contemplation. “Or maybe I’ve forgotten. What’s my incentive for remembering?”

  She knew it was useless, but Madison tried appealing to her better conscience. “Making an old woman happy? Easing her mind?”

  Ellen’s bark of laughter was sharp and brittle. “She lost her mind five or so years ago. I had something else in mind. Something like mentioning my name on television.”

  “I told you, I can’t make any promises, and I have no control over what makes the cut and what doesn’t.”

  “And I told you, I might have forgotten what happened to that God-awful chair.”

  Madison was not interested in playing the staring game with Ellen McDaniel. The woman’s eyes were cold and calculating, and reminded Maddy suddenly of Kayla. The Sorenson sisters were just alike, both concerned only about themselves.

  Allowing her lip to curl in obvious distaste, Madison held the other woman’s steely gaze and spoke in a clear, unmistakable voice. “I can’t promise you I will give your business a plug. But I can promise you this. I will advise Amanda Hooper against listening to any proposal you approach her with.” Madison lifted a slim shoulder. “She might not take my advice to heart. But then again, maybe she will.”

  Ellen glared at her for another long moment before dropping her gaze. “Fine,” she spat. “I wanted to toss the horrendous thing to the curb. Instead, I put it in the attic.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Of course not! The thing weighed a ton and a half and was as bulky as an elephant. Took three of us to get it up there. We had to put it on a rug and pull the ugly thing up.” She tossed her head and gave Madison a smirk. “Satisfied?”

  “Yes, actually, I am. I just needed to confirm what Mrs. McSwain told me.”

  “Why didn’t you just look in the attic for yourself?”

  “I did, but the chair is not there.”

  “No one in their right mind would steal the ugly thing. What about her son? Did you ask Donny Ray if he took it home with him?”

  “Not yet.”

  Ellen snorted. “That should have been the first person you asked, instead of wasting my time and bringing me all the way down here to this ... café.” She looked around with contempt, her nose flared as if she s
melled something foul.

  “You’re right, Mrs. McDaniel,” Madison said coolly. She stood, signaling the end of their meeting. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. But I do appreciate you meeting with me.”

  Ellen grabbed her purse with a disgruntled huff. She started to storm away, but stopped and turned back toward Madison. “You know what, Madison Cessna?”

  “Reynolds. Madison Reynolds.”

  “Whatever. You may have a fancy house and lots of bedrooms, but you can forget having me clean them. I wouldn’t work for you if you paid me in gold.”

  Chapter Seven

  The birthday party was a huge success. Dozens of people, teenagers and adults, alike, streamed out to the deCordova ranch to celebrate Blake and Bethani’s sixteenth birthday. The evening was full of friends, family, and food.

  After the party wound down and the generator powered off, only a few close friends remained. The kids wandered off to the far side of the pond. The adults sat in the descending darkness, enjoying the sudden peace of the evening. The only illumination now came from the fireflies and the starlight, and the fire’s dying embers.

  Brash passed out beer for him, Matt, and Cutter, and wine for the women. After a round of small talk, the night grew peaceful and still. The night sky worked its magic, luring each of them into a light, peaceful trance.

  Genny felt her shoulders loosen. For the first time in days, she did not think of Pembrook. She did not think of her mysterious caller or the eerie feeling she had that someone was watching her at all hours of the day. She did not worry about hiring a new waitress or if she had enough food in stock for next week’s Homecoming Celebration. She did not worry about the whispers she heard tonight, or the way people smiled when they saw her and Cutter together on the dance floor.

  Tonight, she thought only about the dark Texas sky and the diamonds that twinkled overhead.

  Tonight had not been a date. It had been two friends, attending a birthday party together. Sure, they had ridden together. Danced a couple of times together. Sat together while they ate. Sat beneath the stars and drifted off to sleep, their heads touching. But they had spent just as much time apart, visiting with the other guests. Cutter had spent much of his time with guys, doing and talking guy things, while Genny helped serve and visited with friends. She and Cutter had not come as a couple, no matter what the whispers claimed behind their backs.

  On the way home, exhausted but content, Genny curled up in the passenger’s seat and allowed the motion of the truck to rock her to sleep. It was late by the time Cutter pulled into her driveway.

  “Okay, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up.”

  “Mmm.” She lazily stretched, her hand smacking Cutter in the nose. She came instantly awake when he howled in surprise. A bit of pain mingled in with the sound.

  “Oh, Cutter, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. And I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.”

  “It’s okay, grandma,” he teased. He wiggled his nose as if to adjust the fit, before coming around to open her side of the truck. “I’ll help you carry all this in.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I say it is.”

  With his help, Genny soon had the kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes.

  “Have any apple turnovers left in here?” he asked hopefully, peering into the last plastic container.

  “No, you ate them all.”

  “How long does it take to whip up another batch?”

  Genny laughed at the thinly veiled suggestion. “Longer than I’ll be up, I can tell you that! I’m pooped.”

  “I have time.”

  “But I’m an old grandma, remember? I need my rest.”

  He scowled at her reference to his earlier remark. “I was just kidding, Genny. You know that, right?”

  She hesitated a second too long. She rubbed an invisible stain from the countertop with her finger.

  “Genny, it was a joke!” He stepped closer, trapping her between the cabinet and himself. Gripping the countertop behind her, his arms cocooned her. He forced her attention away from the imaginary smudge. “Look at me,” he ordered.

  She lifted vulnerable blue eyes to his.

  “There’s something we need to set straight. About that kiss,” he clarified.

  Here it came. The part where he explained it was all a ruse for Pembrook’s benefit. Or worse, where he apologized. She wasn’t sure she could bear to hear him say either.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” she hastily interrupted. “Forget about it.”

  “I can’t.”

  The silence that followed drew Genny’s gaze. A nerve twitch along Cutter’s clenched jaw. “You didn’t kiss me back, Genny.” His voice was slightly accusing, slightly hurt.

  “I-I...” She struggled with what to say. I wanted to, her heart whispered.

  “Genny, I need to know something.” There was a note of uncertainty in his voice, a note of vulnerability. Neither were traits she normally associated with Cutter Montgomery. “Am I making a complete fool of myself?”

  “I-I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  He all but called her a liar. His voice was a low growl. “You know what I mean, Genny.”

  She dropped her eyes, her words a painful whisper. “I think I’m the one who’s making a fool of herself.”

  Cutter stepped closer. His nearness was exhilarating. His honesty unnerving.

  “The age difference doesn’t matter to me,” he said softly.

  “Maybe it should.”

  “Why? Why should it matter?”

  She would not look him directly in the eye. “People are beginning to talk behind our backs, Cutter. I-I hear the whispers. I see the way they look at me.”

  A nerve worked along his jawline. “You think I’m too young for you?”

  A note of misery slipped into her voice. “More like I’m too old for you.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. It’s the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not,” she insisted. “You are in the prime of your life. The most eligible and sought-after bachelor in The Sisters. I’ve seen the girls you go out with, Cutter. They’re half my age and half my size. You can have any woman you want.”

  Cutter snorted. “Humph. I don’t know about that. Right now she’s babbling some nonsense about numbers.” He moved a step closer. “That’s all they are, Genny darlin’. Numbers. They have nothing to do with you and me.”

  “Of course they do.”

  “Genny, I enjoy spending time with you. I have more in common with you than with those girls that are, according to your math, half your age and half your size. That’s because they also have half your brain, half your sense of humor. Not even half of that special something that makes you you.” He pressed closer still, and his voice slid an octave. “There’s only one number that bothers me, Genny. Three.”

  “Three?” she asked in confusion.

  “It’s been three days, Genny,” he muttered miserably. “Three days since I’ve kissed you.”

  Three days, four hours, and thirty minutes. But, hey, who’s counting?

  “Three days, wondering why you didn’t kiss me back. I didn’t kiss you because of the dandy, Genny.” His words were intoxicating. “I kissed you because I couldn’t help myself.”

  Genesis drew in a sharp breath. She had no idea how to respond, though her body had plenty of suggestions. Acting of its own accord, her body swayed toward his, ever so slightly. Just enough to invite him closer. Just enough to welcome him when he pressed against her, pushing her back against the bar.

  “I thought there was nothing sweeter, nothing that could ever taste better than your apple turnovers.” His voice was like whiskey-soaked silk, wrapping around her as surely as his body wrapped around hers. His arms moved inward, making the trap more secure. With the counter to her back, the steel of his arms on either side of her, and the hard wall of his body in front of her, Genny could not have escaped, even if she had wanted to. She was completely mes
merized by his nearness, rendered helpless by the words he nuzzled into the crook of her neck. “But I was wrong. Your kiss is sweeter. You, Genny darlin’, are more delicious.”

  She tried to articulate his name, but it came out as a purr. He felt it as he pressed his lips against her throat.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you forever,” Cutter admitted on a raw whisper. “Long before the Valentine’s Dance.”

  Genny could only whimper. She managed a nod.

  His mouth hovered near hers. “Tell me it’s okay,” he demanded. “Tell me it’s okay to kiss you again.”

  She knew she was being foolish. He was eight years younger than she was. A virile, sexy man who could have his choice of women. She needed to stop this madness now. Salvage what was left of her pride.

  Her voice was little more than a squeak. “Yes.”

  “Say it.” His voice no longer sounded so demanding. It sounded more vulnerable. “I need to hear you say it.”

  Genny brought her hand up. Her palm traveled over his chest, crossing the impressive valley and crest of his muscles. As her hand curled around his neck, her fingers brushed the dark blond fringe of his hair. Her other hand came up to complete the circle. She pressed against him, lifting her mouth to meet his. Ignoring her better judgment, she whispered, “Kiss me, Cutter.”

  With excruciating patience, Cutter did as she asked. He bent his knees and dipped his head low, cocking his head to one side so that he could meld his mouth fully against hers. He bent so low, Genny had to dip her head to meet his lips. His kiss was light at first, but the pressure of his mouth increased as he pulled her into the kiss, coaxing her to respond. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, teasing them apart. He pushed upward, his tongue surging inside. As he straightened to his full height, Cutter pulled Genny along with him, tipping her head fully back, stretching her body out to lie against his.

  It was amazing how her short, curvy figure was a perfect fit with his long, muscular frame. Genny clung to him, thankful she was propped between the bar and his body. Her knees were useless. She was surprised to realize that Cutter’s hands were still on either side of her, flat against the counter.