Lone Star Hero

by Jennie Jones

  “What for? You need me to kiss you in public or something?”

  Molly held her hand up in a don’t-move-from-that-spot manner. “We’ve got to stop doing that.”

  “So stop doing it.”

  “I didn’t start it!” She shook her head, not wanting to head into that argument again. “What was I saying?”

  “Town meeting.”

  “Oh, yes. You’d be welcome, and I think it might do your reputation some good.”

  “I don’t have a reputation.”

  “Oh, really?” She slung her weight to one hip and put a hand on her other hip. “You don’t have a girlfriend who isn’t your girlfriend, whom you didn’t just dump and who isn’t pregnant?”

  He sucked in a breath. “No. I don’t.”

  “So do you have a wife and six kids back in Colorado?”

  “Do I what? Who told you that?”

  “Nobody. I imagined it.”

  Saul shook his head, unable to concentrate on so many absurdities at the same time. They’d argued. They’d kissed. He’d liked it—and so had she. But she didn’t want to see how much they’d both liked it, so they’d argued again. Then this ridiculous nonsense with the Texas Portal and Marie’s newsletter, and now...a wife and six kids? Seriously? He didn’t know why she’d imagine such a preposterous scenario, but he did start imagining a few scenarios himself. Sally-Opal at the head.

  He took his focus to outside. What was Sally-Opal thinking? Had she called his sister? Should he call Karlie himself and head the whole threatening scenario off? Because if he didn’t do something, there’d be a lot of emotion flying around on everyone’s part. Or should he wait and see what happened next and deal with it as it occurred?

  Fury rushed through him. He’d never had this incapacitating inability to make a decision before. What the hell was happening to him?

  “Are you listening?” Molly asked.

  He returned his focus to her. “Yes.”

  “You were miles away.”

  “I was thinking about my sister.”

  Her hand fell off her hip and she straightened. “You have a sister as well as a grandpa and mom and a gay younger brother?”

  He grimaced, having not meant to say so much. “She’s a half-sister.”

  “You have a whole family and you didn’t say?”

  “Looks like I didn’t mention it.”

  “So you don’t have a wife and six kids?”

  “Molly.” He tipped his head. “There’s no room in my life for a wife. Or six kids.” Or one kid, come to that. “So what is it you want to tell me about this town meeting, because I can see I’m not going to get any more work done here until you’ve said what it is you want to say.”

  “We’re going to hold a town open day. There’ll be apples, and bunting, and lollipops and cake... and... other stuff that hasn’t been decided yet.”

  “Sounds amazing.”

  “Oh, forget it,” she said, turning to pick up her work gloves. “Just get on with your job.”

  Saul gave her back a reluctant smile, considered walking over to her and kissing her, then decided against that in case he took it further. Because he had an inkling she wanted it to go further as much as he did. Only problem was, they weren’t right for each other so why make more of a mess than they were already dealing with?

  Oh, but one perfect night with Molly. It was tempting.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Five hours later, Molly was in her bedroom having spent eight minutes in the shower instead of her allotted six, most of those minutes just standing beneath the hot stream, letting the water run over her head and down her tired, aching shoulder and arm muscles.

  She’d moved the tiles to a safer place while her so-called employee bent over a makeshift work table doing his stupid calculations. She didn’t count the scaffolding he’d built on the side of the roofless part of the hacienda because that was his job. He was roof-building. All roof builders had to do strenuous stuff with planks and poles. Although, generously, she’d offered to give him a hand—hoping to get up on the roof—but he’d told her it was too dangerous. This from the man who thought he was God’s gift to Molly. She was the one who’d been up on that roofless roof more times than him. Infuriated wasn’t the word to describe her mood, but she’d hidden that fury from him and gone back to her tiles. Wasn’t that impressive? Women who were making a stand had to deal with all sorts, and hot-Saul would have to learn that or get lost. After he’d built her roof.

  She donned a clean pair of jeans, pulled her leather ankle boots on, then threw herself into a T-shirt and grabbed Alice’s suede-fringed jacket, which she often borrowed because it was vintage and way cool—like Molly was way cool—and headed out of her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and striding in a don’t-mess-with-me manner across the vast living area in the lodge house.

  “What are you doing with my albums?” she asked, amazement halting her purposeful stride. She’d meant to walk out without a glance, but he was poring through her photographs.

  “They were stacked on the table,” he said, looking up at her. He tapped a page with his finger. “They’re good.”

  “Of course they are.”

  He pushed out a laugh. “I hadn’t actually doubted that, I just wanted to take a look.”

  “Those are from the past ten years. Some are from when I first started, so not brilliant, but the past three albums contain work I’m proud of. I’m going to use them on my website.” When she got one.

  “Good idea. I like the ones of your family, too. Your cousins—they’re your cousins, right?”

  She nodded.

  “They look like good sorts. You’ve got friends and family here.”

  “My cousins aren’t here. They won’t come back.”

  “Why not?”

  Molly shrugged. “Stuff.”

  “Superstition stuff?”

  She didn’t answer. No point going into it all in depth.

  He gauged her for a moment, then looked down at the album in his hand. “Well, you’ve got your mother, Alice, Davie—and the hacienda. Makes me wonder why you didn’t come home sooner.”

  He’d hit a sore point. In the last few weeks she had fallen in love with her town, and the hacienda, and had never expected to. A sense of shame almost engulfed her. But she was addressing her wrongs. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come to the meeting?”

  He shook his head.

  Molly didn’t press him. She could do this herself. She was making a stand, after all.

  She turned for the front door.

  “Molly,” he said, halting her.

  He rose from the leather sofa and carefully placed her album onto the others on the coffee table. Then he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “What are you going to do about the debt collectors?”

  “Why is that your concern?”

  “I don’t want to be dragged into any more of this than I’m already roped into.”

  So this was why he didn’t want to come to the town meeting. She couldn’t blame him. Momma had made the humiliating suggestion that he strut around town without his shirt, so if he turned up at the meeting, goodness knew what Momma might suggest. His photo had gone viral—if all over Texas counted as viral, which in Molly’s life, it did. If her bad credit rating rumor got out, he might be dragged into it as a cohort to that, too.

  “Tell me how you’re going to get out of it,” he said.

  Maybe he was worried about her not being able to pay him for the roof building. “I sold my own car before I left Colorado—I used the money to pay for the lodge house renovations, and there’s enough left to pay you for building my roof.”

  “I wasn’t questioning that. But you do realize that if you don’t pay the missed repayments it’ll be a black mark against your credit rating. That’s not going to do your new business much good.”

  “I know that. I’ve got a plan. I know exactly what to do to get myself out of this.” Or she would, as soon as sh
e’d had a chance to figure it all out.

  “Why on earth did you do all this for him?”

  “It was couples stuff. Not that you’d know anything about what stuff couples have.”

  He shook his head and Molly got all riled up again.

  “Don’t shake your stupid head at me. I thought he loved me.” She’d thought she loved him, too, and had endured a long fight with herself when she’d started thinking perhaps she didn’t.

  “How could you fall in love with a jerk like that?” he asked.

  “Whoever I choose to love, it’s my business. Whoever I choose to love will always have my full support—including my money—so stop shaking your head.”

  “You’re too trusting, Molly.”

  “I thought I was part of a couple, not a three-way. I was going to benefit, too. I’m not wholly crazy.” Just partly, since she’d allowed herself to be duped. “I had a lawyer draw up an agreement that my ex-fiancé signed. He was going to build the business and once it was built, I was going to get a half share in it. I was investing for my future.” But now she’d left him, he’d probably just about lost his business, or had let it fall into decline again, so that agreement meant nothing.

  She didn’t mention the ring. She’d given the thing money to pay for it. He’d said if she went out and handed over her credit card it would make him feel like half a man, so he suggested she give him the cash and he’d deposit it onto his visa and pay for the ring.

  She hung her head. How dumb was she? No way was she telling shaking-his-stupid-head Solomon that part of the story. From now on, Jason could keep the ring. Alice had told her to look for it because she had it, but she didn’t have it. She’d thrown it at him and the new girl—who’d probably pocketed it once she’d gotten her clothes back on. Molly didn’t want the ring or the money from the sale of it. As far as she was concerned the new girl could have it.

  “Crazy Molly,” she muttered. The title fit.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re not crazy,” Saul said, his tone deep, and mellow enough to have her look up at him. “You’re fighting for what you believe in. The valley. But you need to think about how you’re going to really stand up and fight for the towns.”

  “I’ve got plans.”

  “That’s just a buzzword, Molly. It means nothing. It’s screening the larger issues in order to get people interested.”

  “What’s wrong with that? A lot of people in the valley don’t know how to get themselves out of this fix. They can’t afford to leave, and they’ve got no jobs if they stay. I’ve got to help them. In whatever way I can.” She pronounced the last sentence with gusto.

  He smiled, and eased down, his shoulders relaxing and his facial expression softening. “Okay, Spark. You go show the town your plans. I’ll get back to my roof-building plans. Which,” he added, “are a lot more steadfast and secure than your smokescreen buzzwords.”

  “Oh, shut up.” She nearly gave him the finger. “Know-it-all.” He was right, but she hadn’t thought of it this way before, that was all.

  She turned for the door. She’d think about this on the drive to town and if it worked at the meeting, she’d consider thanking him when she came home. You need a roof. Do not piss off the contractor.

  VALLEY MEETING 7 pm Co-op market hall

  “We will not be kicked out!”

  (Weekday special: Trim and blow-out $50 Valley residents only)

  “Did you see the headline on the Texas Portal about me being a debauched psychic?” Molly whispered to Momma while everyone got their chairs and a slice of one of the many cakes Momma had baked.

  “I looked it up online,” Momma said. She put an arm around Molly’s shoulders. “You’re not a psychic, baby, you’re a mystic.”

  “I’m neither. I’m not sexually debauched, either. Did anyone here see it?” She swept an eye over the room.

  It looked like about fifty of the ninety-seven valley residents had turned up. That was good, considering thirty-seven of the remaining residents were incapacitated by age, disability, or were simply without a car. The other ten were probably in the bar at Surrender.

  “What do you think I should do about the headline?” she asked. “The Amarillo Globe want to interview me and I don’t know whether I should ignore the whole thing, or talk to them.”

  “I called them. I’ve told them I’ll do the interview. That way we can open up, reporter to reporter.”

  “Don’t say anything off the record, Momma. Nothing is ever off the record. And don’t mention Jason. Please don’t mention Jason—I do not want people knowing about any more of my shame and humiliation than they already know.”

  “I’ll be putting the record straight about your greed, and the other appetite. And I promise I won’t mention that sorry, ab-less creep to anyone.”

  “Who told you he was a sorry, ab-less creep? Have you spoken to Lauren or Pepper?”

  “No. You must have told me, honey.”

  Had she? Molly couldn’t remember. She was coping with so many things at once.

  “Don’t worry about anything,” Momma said. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Molly hoped so. “I want to see the final copy of the interview before it goes out.”

  “Trust me.”

  If only she could. “How’s the blog going? Did you get it up and running?”

  “Blog is running but it only went live late this afternoon. I had problems with a couple of plugins on the site but I’ve fixed those.”

  “Well done, Momma. I didn’t realize you knew all that stuff.”

  “I’ve got 875 blog subscribers already.”

  “No!”

  “I haven’t checked in the last two hours, so I could have topped a thousand by now.”

  All this because of the debauched greedy psychic and the hot-builder with hot abs.

  “You couldn’t get him here?” Momma asked.

  Molly firmed her expression. She must have had a look of lust in her eye as she thought about Saul, and Momma must have seen it. “We had a little argument.”

  “He loves your cute little nose, baby, he’ll come around.”

  “Momma,” Molly said, feeling a need to express herself and get it off her chest. “I think I like him a lot.”

  “Of course you do. You’re perfect for each other.” She turned to the hall before Molly had time to put her right on that. “I’ll introduce you, honey.”

  “Everyone already knows me.”

  Momma paused. “But not as Molly the leader, only as Molly the—well, you know—ordinary Molly.”

  Ordinary Molly took a breath, and channeled Molly the leader. She quickly went over everything she’d thought about on the drive into town. She’d have to thank Saul later, because whether her words of wisdom worked on the crowd tonight or not, they were his words and Molly had a feeling they were indeed wise ones. She just hadn’t been given quite enough time to make them all work in her head, let alone come out of her mouth.

  “Here goes,” she said to no one.

  Half an hour later, when everybody had had a say and nothing had been finalized, Molly cleared her throat and began the finishing lines of her lackluster speech.

  “So in conclusion, I think we need someone to take charge and deal with all aspects.” She swallowed when nobody agreed. “Do we need Donaldson’s? No, we don’t.”

  “Not sure about that,” someone said. “I need a new car and they’re offering one.”

  “But imagine being able to buy your own, Mr. Walnut,” Molly responded, with what she hoped was a serious expression of her intent to get them all out of this with a happy outcome.

  “Mrs. Walnut wants that dishwasher, too.”

  “It’s not the best on the market—and I know how particular Mrs. Walnut is for the best.”

  “I don’t want a car,” another person interrupted. “But I don’t see how any of us are going to beat Donaldson’s Development no matter how much we want to.”<
br />
  “It’s not a case of beating them,” Molly said. “It’s more a case of ensuring we’re not thrown out of our valley just because they want our valley. To do that, we have to move forward, move upward, move on with our plans.” Was that what Saul had said? Or had he said they all need to sit back and think more?

  “What were our plans, again?” Mrs. Fairmont asked.

  Molly’s shoulders slumped. She hadn’t given any of this enough thought. She hadn’t had time.

  “Why don’t we take a break and have some more cake?” Momma suggested, standing and gathering Winnie and Davie and herding them to the table piled high with Hopeless sponges.

  Molly stood on the stage and peered over the heads of the valley residents, wondering what kind of persuasion she needed next. Problem was—and she was happy to admit it—she wasn’t good at people-gathering. Give her a business idea and a laptop and she could create a brochure or business plan with the best of them. But not this way. She didn’t like talking in public. It wasn’t the same as putting her words and thoughts down on paper.

  She almost stopped breathing when she saw Saul, leaning against the back wall and looking directly at her.

  How long had he been here and why was he here at all?

  She jumped off the stage and headed for him.

  “How did you get here?”

  “I walked. I didn’t like to think of you driving home on your own, in the dark.”

  “I don’t need company on the way back.”

  “Tough. You’ve got it. So what’s going on here?”

  Molly leaned against the wall, defeated and ready to admit it. “I thought I’d try some of your ideas about gathering our thoughts before we actioned anything, but I’m no good with words and I got confused. I’m better on paper.” She gulped a breath. “But thank you for saying what you said earlier, I took it to heart. It’s just that I forget that you said we ought to gather up before we geared up.”

  He looked at her for a long time without speaking. Molly wasn’t looking at him but she could feel his eyes on her.

  “What?” she asked, turning her head a fraction and meeting his eye.