Introductions were made. The gray-haired man was Ernest Perrin, who was Amelia’s close friend and escort to social functions. The dark-haired one was Joseph Radford, Deanna’s father and a friend of the family as well. Both men were visibly taken with Jodie, even with her broken arm. Deanna sized her up and down like Cathy had done earlier, as if she had ketchup on her cheeks and dirt on her chin.
“Shall we go in to dinner?” Amelia took Ernest’s arm and led the way into the dining room. She allowed him to seat her at the head of the table with him to her right and Joseph to her left. Lorraine sat next to Joseph. Deanna and Jimmy sat side by side across the table from them. A chair had been removed from the place beside Jimmy for Cathy’s wheelchair.
Lorraine motioned for Jodie. “Here, you are to sit beside me.”
Jodie eyed the centerpiece of fresh cut flowers. She was almost hungry enough to nibble on the bright yellow marigolds and the white roses did look right appetizing. She looked across at Cathy who was busy trying to kill her appetite with go-to-the-devil looks. The woman didn’t know nothing ruined Jodie’s appetite. Not love. Lack of love. Witchy women. She could nibble on a hamburger while pulling a calf or eat a steak five minutes after breaking up with a feller. Cathy did have a lot to learn in the next few days.
She glanced down the table at Jimmy, who was listening intently to something Deanna was whispering. Votive candles flickering at precisely six inches apart down the length of the table kept the room dim and gave Deanna a further advantage. In the low lights she looked even more beautiful in her fancy blue velvet gown. Jodie felt like a little servant girl from the streets in one of those big old English romance novels. Too bad Jimmy wasn’t dark-haired and muscular as the men who graced the front of the books. She might push back her chair, rip one shoulder out of her all-purpose black dress, and crawl down the table—blowing out the candles along the way—just to plant a big old sloppy, passionate kiss on him. Now wouldn’t that just bring dinner to a screeching halt!
“And I understand you are a bull rider?” Cathy said coolly.
“That’s right,” Jodie answered.
Deanna shivered. “Surely you don’t get on those horrible beasts and ride them.”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely do.”
Ernest smiled, showing off a whole mouth full of shiny dentures. “I can’t understand women who do things like that, can you, Amelia?”
“Why, Ernest that’s sexist. I run a corporation and I’m a woman.”
“Yes, and you do it so well. But some things should be for men only. Riding bulls is too dangerous for men. Women shouldn’t think of such things.”
Cathy gave Jodie a knowing smile. “I agree with Ernest. It’s so bohemian.”
Four waiters dressed in white shirts and dark trousers moved unobtrusively delivering bowls of steaming hot lobster bisque. Jodie waited to see what Amelia would do. When she didn’t ask anyone to say grace but picked up her spoon and began to eat, Jodie did the same. The waiters poured wine from a chilled bottle of Chardonnay, the buttery richness complementing the creamy bisque to perfection.
“So do you like lobster bisque?” Cathy asked.
“Love it. Granny Etta’s secret for a spicier version is a splash of steak sauce. Sometimes we serve shooters at the lodge. Cool it slightly, pour it up in shot glasses, and add a dollop of crème fraîche. It’s wonderful in the summertime like that. Wintertime we usually eat it hot.”
Jimmy bit his lip to keep from smiling. They were baiting Jodie. It wasn’t the first time he’d brought a woman home only to find it was the last time she’d go out with him. Not that he and Jodie were dating or even that it could ever be a possibility, but it was fun to see Cathy meet her match. His grandmother had deliberately seated him beside Deanna, and yes a marriage in that area would unite two very large companies. But if they wanted a merger they needed to talk to his mother and Joseph. He was not attracted to Deanna in the least bit. Short whimpering blonds were for the covers of Jodie’s romance books, not his heart.
Jodie was still famished when she finished the half cup of soup and wished for more. It wasn’t as good as Granny Etta’s but it was filling. She would probably be sent to the gallows if she asked for a second helping. She’d have to spend the night scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush for committing such a faux pas. She’d dang sure ask and devour a dozen bowls if she could use Jimmy’s toothbrush. Sitting over there with that bit of fluff and acting as if Jodie weren’t even in the room. She should have worn her jeans, the ones that needed washing, and her boots, the ones with manure on them.
When the madam at the head of the table finished, she did a little flitter of the fingers and the waiters whisked away the empty bowls and in seconds replaced them with Caesar salads. Romaine lettuce, croutons and parmesan cheese tossed with just the right amount of homemade dressing.
“Not white. I told Mohin I wanted the red wine from the Cotes. Paul Jaboulet’s Parellele 45. I’ve found it to be a light-bodied, earthy red wine with a little spice and forward fruit flavor. Don’t you think it goes better with Caesar salad than the white, Ernest?”
“Yes, it does. We talked about this last week when we had dinner at my home. You’ve made a wise choice. Not to say that the white wouldn’t have been well received. It most certainly does complement a Caesar very well. It’s just that the Parellele has a little more body and goes that extra mile.”
Jodie contemplated picking up the wrong fork just to see if Cathy would jump up out of her wheelchair and do a dance on the tabletop but she used her best manners and didn’t succumb to her better judgment. Not once did she cram her mouth full of salad and talk while she chewed. She kept a hand in her lap and wadded her napkin into a lump, wishing the whole time it was Jimmy’s blond curls she had her fingers tied up in. Had she known this was what she was letting herself in for, she wouldn’t have consented to come here even for one night. But then had she not, he would have won that little argument about her not fitting into his world any better than he did in hers. No, she’d stick it out a little longer just to show him she was the winner.
Amelia signaled the waiters, and they took away the salad plates and half-filled wine glasses and brought on the main entrée. Sliced white turkey breast on a bed of rice with three stalks of asparagus on the side. It looked scrumptious: not Granny Etta’s turkey and cornbread dressing, but Jodie could have eaten half a steer by then. Shoot the critter, lop off its horns, slap it on the grill for five minutes on each side, and serve it up with fried potatoes and okra.
Waiters poured wine from a bottle that had a brass monkey wrapped around it.
“So what do you think of our chef’s stuffed nanking brined turkey with five treasure sweet rice? Doesn’t the Affentaler Baden Spatburgunder go well with it?” Cathy asked.
Jodie knew she was expected to fail the test miserably. Surely a bull rider had absolutely no taste for the finer things of life. Cathy looked at her like she could see bologna sandwiches and soda pop.
The corners of Jodie’s mouth turned up slightly in a sticky sweet grin. “My compliments to your chef. The wine is lovely. I enjoy a Pinot Noir with turkey. Don’t you love the apple smoked bacon flavor? It’s as light as a Beaujolais but has a satisfying acidity. Does your chef give out recipes? I’d love to take this one home to Granny Etta.”
Cathy gave her a condescending smile. “Of course not. That’s why Mohin works for us and not a lodge.”
“I see,” Jodie said. Come morning, she’d be gone so fast the door wouldn’t hit her in the heinie when she ran away from this place like a turpentined cat.
“Cathy, I think I hear you being snide down there,” Jimmy said.
“Moi? Surely you jest. I was just telling the bull rider that Mohin does not give out recipes. I guess she doesn’t understand the ways of a personal chef.”
Jimmy ever so slyly winked at Jodie and turned his attention back to Deanna. He had no doubt Jodie could hold her own even against the present odds.
The next course was a tray of assorted fine cheese cubes and fresh fruit set before each person. Jodie read the label on the wine, a Zinfandel called Terra d’Oro from California. By that time she was barely sipping the wine.
“You don’t like Grandmother’s selection of wine for the fruit?” Cathy asked.
Lord, help me not to strangle this woman, Jodie prayed. Every bite I’ve taken she’s watched me like a hawk. She barely picks at her food but downs the wine and holds up her glass for refills. By the time this dinner is over, I’ll still be hungry and she’ll be an obnoxious drunk.
“It’s wonderful. However did you find such sweet strawberries and watermelon at this time of year?” Jodie asked.
“Mohin raises our vegetables and fruit in his own hydroponic garden year-round. It’s amazing. Maybe tomorrow you’d like a tour so you can take ideas home for your little lodge?”
“No, thank you. I’m always glad to see the garden die out in the winter. Can’t wait for the first green beans and new potatoes but by the time fall arrives, I’m sick of picking beans.”
Deanna was visibly aghast. “You surely don’t do it yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely do. On the ranch we aren’t exempt from work just because we are women. I drive a tractor, bale hay, clean out horse stalls, and pick beans. It’s all in a day’s work.” Jodie’s voice was silky smooth.
But Jimmy heard the edge.
“Admirable,” Joseph said. “And your father, what does he do?”
“The same thing.”
“I see. Why are you traveling with James? Surely you aren’t riding bulls with a broken arm?”
“No, if it weren’t for the broken bone I would be, though. There’s a lot of money at stake and someday I hope to buy my own ranch,” she said.
“And run it by yourself?” Deanna asked.
“That’s right.”
“You are a brave woman. Kind of like those pioneers in the history books we used to read about, huh, Cathy?”
“That’s not brave. That’s foolhardy. I saw a cartoon once where one old dirt farmer said to the other, ‘I’d give you a million dollars but you’d just ranch it all up.’ The market is going toward the bigger production companies. Little Oklahoma ranches don’t stand a chance in the futuristic scheme of things.”
Jodie pushed the wine back. “I disagree. If a person is wanting to make a million dollars a year or even half a million, then they’d best stay away from ranching. But there is still a good honest living to be had off the land, and it’s a wonderful way to raise children.”
“What do you think, James?” Deanna asked.
“I have to agree with Jodie. She’ll be a good rancher. She knows the business and studies the markets. Her children will grow up to be as stable and responsible as she is.”
Deanna shuddered again. “To each his own. My children will grow up in the corporate world and all it can offer them and will be just as stable and responsible.”
Amelia patted her hand. “Yes, they certainly will. And you’ll make a wonderful mother.”
Jimmy felt the icy glare his grandmother shot him. The lines had been drawn and the war declared. What was it they saw in Jodie Cahill that made them close ranks and pull out the big cannons? She threatened them to the extent that they were pushing Deanna at him at a fast pace. If they knew the way he felt about Jodie they’d probably put arsenic in her after-dinner coffee. Thank goodness, he’d never mentioned her to anyone but Paul and Paul was sworn to secrecy.
Dessert was served with a lovely white wine which Jodie completely ignored. The tiramisu was comparable to what was served at the Spaghetti Warehouse in Oklahoma City. Greta would salivate over it as much or more than that Mustang parked in the Cahill Ranch garage. Jodie remembered her telling about eating it when she and Kyle chaperoned the youth group from the church a few weeks ago.
Amelia and Ernest talked shop: This company was about to merge with that one and they would need to sell stock in another. Deanna kept whispering to Jimmy but kept an eye on Jodie in her peripheral vision. Cathy made no bones about it, she glared at Jodie. Joseph and Lorraine spoke in low tones about a Valentine’s Day dance at the club and whether or not James would be back to escort Deanna.
Jodie was the only one at the table who’d eaten all of her dessert and left the wine untouched. She was ready to leave at that moment but her grandmother would have her hide if she wasn’t polite, even in present company.
“Please bring coffee to the library,” Amelia told a waiter.
Thank goodness, this evening is over. Tomorrow I’m out of here. I don’t care if Jimmy does think he’s won and that I can’t handle his lifestyle. Truth is, I can’t. I’m still hungry and aggravated to boot.
Ernest looped Amelia’s arm through his. Joseph did the same with Lorraine. And Deanna grabbed Jimmy’s hand. That left Cathy and Jodie.
Cathy glared. Jodie glowered right back.
“If you will excuse me, I’m very tired. I think I’ll skip coffee and go straight up to my room,” Jodie said as they left the dining room.
“Yes, of course,” Amelia said.
Cathy smirked. She’d won.
Deanna looked relieved, and Lorraine and Joseph barely noticed her absence.
It took a good portion of her willpower to keep from slamming the door so hard it rattled the pictures from the landing walls. She kicked off her shoes, removed the clasp at the back of her neck and slung the necklace down on the dresser, undressed as fast as she could with one arm, and started hot water running in the shower. She needed to wash away the feeling those people had evoked. She wrapped her arm in a grocery bag, secured the top with a rubber band, and stepped into the steaming stall.
Why did you let them provoke you? You’ve not played your cards so well, my granddaughter. Etta’s voice was as clear as if she were propped up on the vanity. You must like that James Crowe or this wouldn’t matter. Remember how you used to come home from Tulsa in a snit because Rosy loved Trey so much she let people aggravate her? You are doing the same thing.
“It’s not true. He’s not my type and he’s always going to be a prissy rich boy, and I’m not going to like him. And if I do start liking him, then I will stop.”
She toweled herself dry after fifteen minutes, put on her most ragged old sleep shirt, and curled up in front of the television to watch another episode of ‘The Golden Girls.’
“Amelia isn’t Blanche. Even with her sass and brassiness, Blanche has got more feelings that that woman,” she mumbled.
The rerun couldn’t hold her attention so she went to the window and looked out over the estate at night. Apparently the party had ended, because Lorraine was walking with Joseph out to his car. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. A lover’s kiss? A friend’s peck? Who knew and who cared?
Amelia’s white hair glistened in the moonlight. Ernest said something and she touched his shoulder, the two of them looking a long time at each other. There was no kiss or hug, just a friendly wave.
Jodie was about to turn back to see what Sophia was saying to make everyone on the TV laugh when Jimmy and Deanna strolled out to a fancy little sports car parked beside Jodie’s truck. Deanna wrapped her arms around his neck and, on tiptoe, pulled his face down to hers for a long, lingering kiss. She didn’t want to watch but she couldn’t take her eyes from the sight. So Deanna and Jimmy had something going between them and Jodie was just jealous bait. She couldn’t get out of this place fast enough. It would be a hard decision not to call the CEO and tell him to cancel the rest of her judging.
You going to let her win? Granny Etta’s voice asked.
“No, but I sure want to right now,” Jodie said aloud.
Jimmy knew what Jodie meant that night when she said Chris’s kiss was boring. Deanna was good at what she did, but it bored him. He’d rather have had Jodie standing toe to toe, eye to eye with him, fighting and then making up. He was alive when she was around. Not just going through the motions, but heart thumping, bantering livi
ng. He would have far rather been sitting on the floor in a hotel room stealing mashed potatoes than eating a five-course meal and drinking good wine.
It had backfired. This idea that he could get her out of his mind if he spent time with her. He’d just have to work harder. He still had two months to take care of it. Maybe by then he wouldn’t have the desire to wipe Deanna’s kisses off his mouth.
Chapter Seven
Jodie was loaded for bear the next morning. Expecting a forty-course meal with waiters and the whole nine yards, she was surprised when she there was no one in the dining room but Jimmy. His gray jogging suit was damp with sweat and his blond curls were limp.
“Good morning. I’ve already had a run and breakfast. What would you like? I’ll have the chef prepare it,” he said.
She sat down at the end of the table, far away from him. “I’d like a taxi, a hotel room, and a lot less witchy women.”
“That was a little overdone last night, wasn’t it?”
“If it had been a steak, it wouldn’t have been a little overdone, it would have been charred black. I don’t intend to stay a whole week in this house and live with that kind of treatment.”
“I’m sorry, I truly am, but last night won’t happen again,” he said.
“You can guarantee such a thing?”
“Yes, I can. Tonight we are having dinner with Paul. I told you I’d introduce you to him. After that we’ll be at the rodeo every night doing our jobs. During the day, they are all downtown at the office. By the time they get home in the evening, we’ll be gone and when we come in they’ll be in bed. You probably won’t see any of them again. And by the way, that was standard procedure last night. Every woman I’ve ever brought home got that kind of treatment. That’s why there’s no one in my life. Haven’t found one who’ll stick around once they figure out they’ve got those three to deal with.”
“Deanna does.”
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