Wildflower Wedding

by Becki Willis

  “I hear HighTop is back to leasing in the area,” Harry said.

  “I heard mention of it, but no one’s been out to see me yet,” the other man replied.

  “I thought your boy was a landman for them?”

  “He was, but when the industry went bust a few years ago, he had to find something else. He works over in Navasota now, selling cars.”

  They talked about cars for a few moments, lamenting the high price of buying new and the uncertainty of buying used, before Harry went back to the previous topic. “I heard HighTop offered Nigel Barrett a good price for his mineral rights.”

  “Did he sign with them?”

  “Not sure. Knowing ol’ Nigel, he’s holding out for more, even though the old coot has more money now than he could ever spend.”

  “Maybe he needs it for his medical bills. I hear he’s been going over to the VA Hospital in Waco lately, seeing some high-tech doctor.”

  “What seems to be the matter with him?”

  “If you ask me, all that’s wrong with him is he’s old and lonely. Got nothing better to do than to sit around all day in front of his television. Maybe he figured he’d go to the doctor for some social interaction.”

  “At his age,” Harry chuckled, “that’s probably about all he has to look forward to.”

  “Mr. Applegate?” The dental assistant appeared in the doorway with a chart in her hand. “Doc Menger will see you now.” Her gaze roamed the room before she caught Madison’s eye. “You’re next, ma’am.”

  Madison flashed a grateful sigh and went back to her magazine. At least the room was quiet enough now that she could concentrate on the words.

  Yet, she found herself unable to focus on their meaning. It wasn’t just that she had no idea what aid-climbing and stemming were. Her mind had stalled on Nigel Barrett, and why he might be seeing a doctor. Was he terminally ill, as Granny Bert had suggested? It was sad enough that the man had lived his life alone; to die alone seemed even more tragic. She made another note in her phone, this one about asking her client if she needed to be aware of anything concerning his health. She was hardly an estate planner, but she could certainly help the older man record and vocalize his last wishes.

  She was aware of the door opening and the rustling of fabric, suggesting someone stepped inside. The unseen man from behind her greeted the newcomer, who volunteered that he was there to pick up his wife.

  “Had to have a little dental work done, did she?” the first man said by way of making conversation.

  Madison acknowledged that her nerves were worn thinner than usual. Normally, small talk in waiting rooms didn’t bother her. There was the occasional obnoxious party who talked too loudly on his or her cell phone (putting those calls on speakerphone was a personal peeve of hers) but Madison was able to tune people out. Never mind that waiting rooms were prime fodder for juicy gossip—case in point, Nigel Barrett’s health status and his recent visits to the VA doctors. Not that she cared, but she also now knew that Harry’s wife was considering buying a Toyota Camry and that the man behind her preferred Ford vehicles. The fact she had retained such useless information in her already-frazzled brain irritated her even more.

  But today, with her anxiety high and her To-Do list growing longer by the minute, the mindless chatter around her chafed. Though she normally paid it no attention, today the small talk grated on her nerves like hot coals against a rub board.

  Yes, the man’s wife is having dental work done. She’s not here to have her tires rotated! It was all Madison could do to keep from turning around and snapping out the sharp reply. Contrary to what the man might believe, he wasn’t that fascinating of a conversationalist, and the entire waiting room didn’t want to hear his opinions. The least he could do was lower his voice.

  She managed to bite her tongue and keep silent, and with the next overheard words, she was glad she had.

  “Say,” the first unseen man said, “I hear you’re planning to run for chief of police.”

  Sitting up straighter in her seat, Madison kept her face averted as she leaned slightly back, now eager to hear what the two men were saying.

  “Well,” the newcomer said, his words a bit of a chuckle, “I wouldn’t say I was running. It’s an appointed position, not an election.”

  “But you are trying to unseat Brash deCordova.” The first man pressed for clarification.

  “I think it’s about time, don’t you?” The second man’s voice was smooth and practiced. He sounded every bit the politician.

  Beside her, Blake stiffened and pressed his leg against hers, but he, too, kept his face averted.

  “deCordova has been on the job too long,” the man continued. “At any rate, he was never a qualified candidate for the position. His background is in chasing a football, not chasing criminals. Look at all the shenanigans that have taken place in the last year or so! A gambling ring, illegal drugs cooked and peddled right in the middle of town, kids trying to burn the school to the ground, that Santa Claus thievery. We need someone who can take a firm stand against crime and drive it out of our community.”

  Madison couldn’t see, but she imagined the man standing on his soapbox, shaking his fist for emphasis.

  “But he solved every one of those cases you mentioned,” the first speaker pointed out. “Seems to me he’s doing a right fair job.”

  “The real question is, why should we settle for fair, when we deserve the best?”

  “And you think that’s you, I take it.”

  “Absolutely. I have an impeccable record. I was a cop for over twelve years in Pasadena. I worked for another five years in the Walker County Sheriff’s office. I know how to handle hardened criminals and wannabe thugs. Without a doubt, I’m the best man for the job.”

  “You came here from Huntsville, did you? My grandsons lived there when they went to Sam Houston.” He referenced the university named for the first president of the Republic of Texas. “When did you move?”

  “Two years ago this month. And I hate to say it, but we’ve noticed how things have steadily gone downhill since we’ve been here. That first year, there weren’t any television shows and cameras making a spectacle of our town. In my opinion, that’s what half of the problem has been. The cameras revealed our weaknesses, like the lack of security in key places around town and the laid-back attitude of the police department. It’s a wonder we aren’t overrun with riffraff, trying to take advantage of our Barney Fife police force.”

  The woman who had previously been talking on her phone broke into their conversation. “It seems to me we have more of an Andy Taylor police force. Calm, rational, firm control. I think Chief deCordova is doing an excellent job.”

  If the woman noticed Madison sitting there, she never let on. Madison sent her a grateful look, just in case.

  “That was fine in the 1960s,” Mr. Politician said, “but we need to get with the times. There are people on both city councils who happen to agree with me. I’ve expressed my concerns in recent meetings and found quite a bit of favorable response.” Judging from his satisfied sniff, Madison imagined his nose stuck high in the air.

  “Mom,” Blake hissed through his teeth. “Say something!”

  She shook her head, placing her hand on his knee in a gesture of restraint.

  “With all the hoopla concerning his upcoming nuptials,” the man continued, “I fear our chief isn’t giving proper attention to the town. If I were chief of police, there wouldn’t be anything more important than my job.”

  A well-dressed woman stepped from the inner office as he made his emphatic statement. Her face pulled downward in a grimace, but Madison wasn’t sure if it was a result of the anesthesia or from overhearing her husband’s claim. Nothing like hearing you rate below his imaginary job.

  Madison didn’t waste too much pity on the woman; she vaguely recognized her as one of Myrna Lewis’s cronies. Myrna had long been a thorn in Madison’s side, even though In a Pinch often filled in at Lewis Insurance. She could
n’t ask for a nicer or more congenial client than Dean Lewis, but the same could hardly be said for his wife.

  If this woman was a friend of Myrna’s, it could only mean bad news for Brash. Myrna had a long-running complaint against the entire police force for not prosecuting anyone who dared walk near her beloved yard. She no doubt supplied Brash’s would-be opposition with a litany of complaints and shortcomings against him.

  Madison tried to remember the other woman’s name. Sharon? Sharona? Sheila? It escaped her at the moment. Whatever her name, she didn’t look pleased as she strutted across the waiting room. Her only words were in sign language. The graceful flip of her hand said it all. ‘Get up, husband. We’re leaving now.’

  Just as the couple opened the door to leave, the dental assistant reappeared in the hallway. “Blake Reynolds? We’ll see you and your mom now.”

  Heads held high, the two of them walked across the suddenly silent room and disappeared.

  As soon as they left the dentist office, Madison dialed Brash’s number.

  “Hello, my beautiful bride to be,” his warm voice greeted her. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

  Her voice was cool and clipped. “Is there something you forgot to tell me?”

  “Uhm, not that I’m aware of. But from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing I’m wrong. What did I forget?”

  “You tell me!”

  “Let’s see. I told you about the bachelor party my brothers are throwing for me. An afternoon of fishing, followed by a rousing game of poker and maybe a few beers. My father, my grandfather, your son, and half the guys from church are going to be there, so I doubt they have anything too raunchy planned. I doubt that’s what has your feathers all ruffled.”

  “I’m not a chicken, Brash,” she said irritably. “And I’m not a delicate china doll who can’t handle the truth. Why didn’t you tell me about the last few city council meetings?”

  “I had no idea you were interested in going to them, sweetheart. They post notices in the paper. I guess I just never thought to tell you when one was coming up.”

  “I’m not talking about attending the meetings, Brash. Although I will make a point to, from now on.”

  “Then what—” He broke off mid-sentence with a heavy sigh. “Is this about Misty? Because, honestly, I had nothing to do with it. I told them to leave me out of the entire process until they had found a qualified candidate as an officer. They had unanimously chosen her before I ever saw the application.”

  “No, I’m not talking about—Wait.” Something in his voice sounded a bit too rehearsed. “Who’s Misty?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Misty Abraham.”

  “The blond bombshell you once dated?”

  “I don’t remember describing her that way.”

  “You didn’t. You gave me the watered-down version. A female deputy from Navasota you dated a few times, before your schedules got in the way. You failed to mention her voluptuous figure and her big blue eyes. I had to discover them for myself, when I googled her.”

  “Sweetheart, the only figure I’m interested in is yours. I can hardly wait to—”

  “Blake’s in the car,” she broke in hastily, “and I have you on speakerphone.”

  Did his chuckle hold a hint of embarrassment? She couldn’t be certain as he smoothly changed his reply. “I’ve warned you about stalking people on social media, Maddy.”

  “Then she shouldn’t set her profile to public. Especially since it still has photos of the two of you on it!” Her voice was an octave too high before she pulled in a deliberate breath. “And back up a minute. Did you say she applied for the job of police officer? Here?”

  “Not only applied, but she’s the number one candidate. My approval is just a formality. Both city councils have made their decision and plan to offer her the job next week.”

  “And you’re going to approve hiring her?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? She’s an excellent police officer. I think she’ll be an asset to the department.”

  “I just bet you do,” Madison grumbled, half under her breath.

  This time, amusement filled Brash’s chuckle. “Blake, pat your mother’s arm and tell her she has nothing to worry about.”

  Grinning, the boy did exactly as instructed.

  “But wait a minute,” Brash continued. “If you weren’t talking about Misty, what were you talking about?”

  “That’s what I want to know! What’s this about someone wanting to take your job? Didn’t you think that was something you should share with me?” She was clearly annoyed. “Are we keeping secrets already? First Misty, now Mr. Politician.”

  “Given that you’ve already dubbed him with a nickname, I take it you’ve met Joel Werner.”

  “Not exactly.” She gave him a brief recap of the overheard exchange. “Who is he and what’s he up to?”

  “He moved in here from the Houston area, via Huntsville, a couple of years ago. You know the type. Moved to a small town to get away from all the big city hullabaloo, then wants to drag all the rules and regulations with him. Thinks he knows everything because he served on a big police force.”

  “FYI, his wife is chummy with Myrna.”

  “Sounds about right,” he snorted.

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Brash?” Her voice was softer now.

  “There’s nothing to tell. Someone’s always taking an exception to something I do. Comes with the territory, sweetheart.”

  “But I hear he’s been coming to the meetings and making his complaints vocal. And that some of the members agree with him.”

  “Some probably do. That’s beyond my control and has no bearing on the way I do my job. If they’re not happy with my performance, they can replace me.”

  “You don’t mean that!”

  “If they want to replace me, babe, my opinion on the subject won’t matter. But I don’t think we have anything to worry about. There may be a couple of members who agree with him, but most think he’s a pompous ass—semblyman. Assemblyman.”

  Blake laughed at the way Brash stumbled through the correction, belatedly remembering his presence in the car. “Nice save, Mr. de,” the teen chuckled. “Real smooth, but I’m familiar with the terminology. And I wholeheartedly agree.”

  “I had to hold this one back,” Madison told her fiancé. The pride in her voice was audible. “He wanted to jump to his feet and defend you.”

  Brash, too, was clearly pleased. “Thanks, buddy. But if you give them enough rope, guys like Joel Werner usually hang themselves.”

  “He also seems the type that would make a big deal of that very statement and claim you’re a violent and dangerous man who advocates lynching,” Blake remarked.

  “Good point. I’ll remember not to use that analogy in public.”

  Madison still wanted more details. “So, you’re saying you’re not worried about this man? And that I shouldn’t be worried about Misty joining the force?”

  “Darlin’, all I’m worried about is getting through the next two weeks. Once we’re married and officially a family, I can’t imagine having another trouble in the world.”

  In answer, she quoted her son.

  “Nice save, Mr. de.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Thank you for meeting me.” Collette Erickson’s smile lacked any real pleasure as she extended her hand toward Madison.

  “I’m so glad you called,” Madison replied sincerely. She put extra warmth into her own handshake. “Let’s take that corner booth. It should give us a bit of privacy.” She motioned toward her favorite spot at New Beginnings, following behind Collette to the rear of the café.

  Settling into the bench seat, Collette looked around with curious eyes. “This is the place from the show, isn’t it?” She offered a sheepish expression. “I didn’t realize who you were Sunday, until my friend pointed it out. Apparently, she saw your son holding reign over by the birthday cake.”

  Madison cringed. “About the kids. They meant no disrespect. I kn
ow you walked up on their little show, but—”

  Collette interrupted with a flash of her palm. “No need to apologize. They did a wonderful job of distracting the audience and keeping the Lookie Lous busy. I appreciate their efforts.”

  “I’m so glad you understand. I worried we offended you.”

  “Not in the least,” Collette assured her.

  “And no need to apologize about not recognizing me. I can’t tell you what a refreshing change that is.”

  “I was a huge fan of the show. If it hadn’t been for… circumstances, I’m sure I would have made the connection.”

  “You did have a horrible shock,” Madison agreed. Her tone softened as she asked, “How are you?”

  Her answer was quick. “Still in shock. When my friend called to tell me about seeing your kids there, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Bobby Ray. I just let her talk. She tells me you and the police chief are getting married?”

  Madison recognized the change of topics for what it was—a sign of denial. For now, she would indulge the other woman and help distract her numbed mind.

  “Yes.” She held up her tastefully styled ring, unable to keep the smile from spreading over her face. “In two weeks.”

  “He was the one there, wasn’t he?” Collette realized suddenly. “The hottie helping with… the body.”

  Madison was accustomed to women calling Brash hot, but it was the first time a new widow—four days new, to be exact—had referred to him as such. She resisted a frown as she nodded in agreement.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. He tried to save him, but there was nothing he could do.”

  “I’m sure there wasn’t. It was probably immediate.”