I nodded, not really paying attention. My gaze was latched onto Donna, who was across the room talking to Keith. She listened intently to whatever he was saying. I wondered how long their conversation had lasted, because I sensed they were at the end of it. All of a sudden, she smiled and her head bobbed enthusiastically, and they shook hands. Before she stepped away, Keith placed his palm on Donna’s shoulder. He said something else and she nodded again. Whatever he’d said, it seemed to make Donna very happy. Darn! I wished I could read lips.
“What is it about a good looking man that will turn a woman into jelly?” I grumbled aloud.
“Huh?” Annette stared at me quizzically.
I tossed my hand into the air. “Oh, never mind.”
~ * ~
On the way to the Sheraton where we were to spend the night, Wayne drove us past the Beehive House and Lion House. Those homes had been where all of Brigham Young’s wives lived back in the day.
“I can’t manage to snag one wife,” Keith joked. “Doesn’t seem fair Brigham Young had so many.” His joke caused several women to sigh, but I wasn’t one of them. My suspicions were beginning to mount.
Life on the road probably made maintaining a relationship difficult for someone like Keith, but I doubted he lacked for female companionship. My curiosity piqued, and I wondered what had happened between him and Jackie to make her completely ignore him today. I was also interested in what he’d been talking to Donna about earlier.
After settling into our rooms and eating a mediocre dinner in the hotel restaurant, some of our new friends decided to head downtown for the evening, including Jackie, Crystal, Annette and Kim.
“I’m tired,” I said, begging off. “Think I’ll hang out in the Jacuzzi for a while and then watch a little TV and hit the sack.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Donna offered.
One of the married men from our group was in the Jacuzzi when we arrived at the indoor pool area. “Just soaking my sore legs,” he said, inviting us to join him. “I’m not used to so much walking.”
Neither was I. The half an hour soak nicely loosened my aching joints. In that time, we heard about our companion’s stint in the Korean War, as well as how he and his wife had met, the names of their kids and grandkids, and all the prescriptions he had to take for one ailment or another.
Once we were back in our room, Donna and I took turns showering and changed into our jammies. “Come here,” she called, opening the sliding glass doors. We stood outside on our sixth floor balcony and watched a lightning storm electrify the distant mountains.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she cried.
“Magical. Are you glad you’re here, Donna?”
“Oh, yes. We’ve had such fun already. I can’t believe we have six days left. This was a good idea you had, Teresa.” She hugged me, and I hadn’t seen such a big smile on her face since Chad died.
“I saw you talking to Keith in the visitor center today,” I ventured. “It looked like you were having a deep discussion.”
Donna stared straight ahead with her hands on the balcony rail watching jagged streaks rhythmically light up the dark sky. “He’s a kind man. What I said in my introduction on the bus touched him. He gave me some suggestions on how I can make some extra money to supplement my income.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “What kind of suggestions? Do you mean investments of some kind?”
“He just shared some ideas for someone like me who has trouble making ends meet. That’s all.”
I turned her toward me. “You don’t know Keith,” I reminded her. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
She rolled her eyes. “Give me a little credit, Teresa. I was Valedictorian of our senior class, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. People change.”
She punched my arm light-heartedly. “Thanks, girlfriend!” She gasped when more lightning ricocheted across the mountains. Then she faced me again. “Don’t worry, Teresa. I’m not stupid.”
For some reason, I suddenly recalled the lyrics to that George Strait song, famous last words of a fool.
CHAPTER TEN
Be Careful What You Wish For
No one knows the real reason as to why I called off my first engagement. At the time, I’d cryptically told friends and family that I realized I didn’t love Curt the way a woman should love a man. They were all heartbroken because everyone adored Curt. He was a good guy, and people told us we made the perfect pair. Everyone, that is, except my father, who I’ve already mentioned felt I was too stubborn and independent to commit to one man for a lifetime.
The truth was, Curt forgot my birthday. That’s the reason I broke up with him. That year we were engaged, he completely forgot my birthday. No flowers, no present, not a card or even a greeting. To him, it was just another day.
It wasn’t until I told him that my parents were taking us out for dinner to celebrate when it hit him. Of course, he profusely apologized and bent over backwards the next day to make me feel special. He showered me with the requisite presents: flowers, a box of candy that threatened to widen my hips, and a romantic card. But it was too late. As I lay in bed that night, I decided any man who couldn’t remember his fiancée’s birthday wouldn’t remember his wife’s, and that man didn’t deserve me. I was confident in knowing my own needs and wants. I understood that Curt’s tendency to space out on things I considered important would be a thorn in my side, and thorns hurt.
I never regretted my decision. A couple of years later, I heard Curt married a girl he met at a disco and they ended up moving down south somewhere, happy as two bugs in a rug.
Today was Sunday and Annette’s birthday; the reason I’d recalled my birthday fiasco all those years ago. As far as I knew, Bruce hadn’t called Annette since we’d left Illinois. Nor had her son, Dustin. I hoped the two of them would come through for her today of all days. But a sour feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
Donna and I woke up Jackie and Kim, and the four of us stood in the hotel hallway in bare feet and jammies pounding on Annette and Crystal’s door until it opened. “Happy birthday!” we shouted when Annette opened it. Smiling, her hair was styled perfectly, as if she’d been up for hours straight-ironing it. Crystal’s short hair, on the other hand, was the epitome of bed head. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and yawned as we sang the happy birthday song to Annette. Then we all handed her our individual gifts, wrapped in pretty papers and ribbons.
“Thanks, girls. You’re all so sweet.”
“Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” Kim said, stealing Annette’s line.
“You may be fifty, but you don’t look a day over forty-nine,” Jackie joked, pinching a similar quote Chuck had used recently.
After a round of hugs, we retreated to our rooms to dress and prepare for the day ahead.
“How’d everyone sleep?” Keith asked when we were on the bus and passing by the Great Salt Lake, which looked like a mirage on the desert. He stood in front, as usual, looking surfer dude handsome while talking into his microphone.
“Great!” was the unified response.
For the first time in months, my body didn’t ache. Maybe it was because we’d spent the night in the spiritually energized Salt Lake City. Or perhaps it had been the mattress in the hotel, which had felt like sleeping on a cloud.
“Today we’re headed to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, by way of the Oregon Trail,” Keith said. “We’ll be spending the night in Jackson, and tomorrow, we’ll visit the Grand Tetons before moving on to Yellowstone.” His intense gaze zeroed in on Annette, pinning her to the back of her seat. “Today is a very special day,” he announced. He offered Annette his hand. She accepted it, and he pulled her to her feet and flung his arm around her waist. Her face turned five shades of pink. “Today is Annette’s birthday!” Keith exclaimed. “Happy birthday, Annette.”
“Happy birthday!” everyone on the bus mimicked.
Keith squeezed
Annette’s waist a little tighter. “Wayne and I did some shopping last night, and today we’ll be stopping at a park in Idaho Falls for a picnic lunch. We even managed to pick up a birthday cake. How about that, everyone?”
The people on the bus clapped, and Annette seemed overwhelmed. “Thank you, Keith and Wayne. You’re both so nice to have gone to the trouble.”
“We normally don’t need a reason to party on this tour,” Wayne said, glancing over his shoulder and winking, “but a birthday gives us a legitimate excuse.”
Annette returned to her seat smiling from ear to ear.
“Have you heard from Bruce and Dustin?” I asked from the seat behind her. Suddenly, her smile vanished, and I knew the answer. “Cell phone service is not good while on the road. The day’s still young,” I said, patting her shoulder.
“Right,” she mumbled.
I had no idea why I was making excuses for those two. I’d be royally pissed if they disappointed her. My intuition told me to be prepared to add them to my dog list.
The drive through Idaho was beautiful with its wheat fields, majestic mountains, and herds of horses everywhere we looked. Wayne stopped in Idaho Falls at a pretty park filled with birdsong and the soothing sounds of a rippling creek. When he and Keith spread a lunch worthy of kings upon the picnic tables, we were impressed—and hungry.
“I wouldn’t mind being fifty again,” Joyce said, as we wolfed down sandwiches, potato salad, chips, and fresh fruit.
“What would you do differently if you had a do over?” I asked.
“I’d probably accept my boyfriend’s proposal all those years ago. As it is, we’ve been together nineteen years and I don’t see a reason to get married now.”
“You’ve had a boyfriend for nineteen years?” Kim asked, almost choking on a pickle. Nine more years of living with Eddie without a marriage certificate and she’d be in the same boat.
“Yep,” Joyce answered, shrugging. “It’s worked out fine. He lives thirty miles away, so we’re not under each other’s feet all the time, and he can’t boss me around! If he tries, he knows he won’t be spending the night in my bed.”
We laughed, and I gave Joyce a high five.
“At this age, it’s better not to be married anyway, for tax purposes,” she said.
I noticed Kim’s gaze dipped to her lap. She suddenly seemed to have lost her appetite.
“Time for cake,” Keith interrupted, carrying a store-bought, but personally decorated cake with Annette’s name. He gingerly placed it on our picnic table. When he started singing the happy birthday song, everyone gathered around and joined in. I thought Annette might burst into tears. Wayne slipped a lighter from his pocket and set the few candles they’d stuck in the cake aflame.
“Make a wish and blow out the candles,” Norma said.
Annette closed her eyes, made a wish, and blew. Everyone clapped.
“What’d you wish for?” Keith asked, sidling a little too close for comfort.
Their gazes connected. Something in her flirtatious tone alarmed me when she answered, “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Million Dollar Birthday
By the time we reached Jackson, it was raining and fifty-six degrees.
“It’s cold!” Crystal cried, wrapping her arms around herself as Keith and Wayne unloaded the luggage in front of the Antler Inn.
Jackie eyed the two-story log dwelling with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like a four-star hotel.”
“It’s one block from the town square,” Wayne said, “and steps from numerous restaurants, shops and art galleries. I think the inside will surprise you. The place is quite nice, even if there are actual elk antlers attached to the sign.”
“The world-famous Million Dollar Cowboy Bar is also within rolling distance,” Keith supplied.
Jackie turned her back on him, once again making me curious as what had happened between the two.
“I like it!” Annette said. “Looks rustic and completely charming. And I’ve heard of the cowboy bar. Can we go to it tonight?”
“You can do whatever you want while we’re in Jackson,” Keith said. “There’s nothing planned as a group except dinner at a local restaurant.”
“I’ve heard Harrison Ford and Calista Flockhart own a home here,” Donna said.
Keith’s muscles bulged as he lifted suitcases and travel bags from the coach and carried them to a spot under a protected awning. “They do, but don’t hold your breath hoping to see them. They’re private people.”
I was searching through the sea of luggage for my bags when I saw Keith subtly motion to Donna with his finger. She stepped to him and he whispered something in her ear. Nonchalantly trying to eavesdrop was of no use. Their voices were low. The only words I caught were “finalize tonight” from him and “after dinner” from her.
When she and I unloaded our stuff into our room and freshened up, I wanted so bad to ask her what that conversation had been about. But she’d already warned me in that sweet way of hers to butt out. Instead, I commented on how clean the room was and how I liked the headboards that were made of twisted tree branches.
Luckily, all six of us had packed umbrellas, because it was still raining when we gathered to trek to the town square to check out the quaint shops. We hit almost every shop. Everything was too expensive for my wallet, but I splurged and bought a sweatshirt with Jackson Hole, Wyoming printed on the front since I hadn’t packed anything warm and I was freezing. The other girls bought at least one souvenir, with the exception of Jackie who juggled six bags of new clothes in her hands three hours later.
“Look at those arches formed out of elk antlers.” Donna pointed to the gigantic arches on the corners of the town square. The rain had finally stopped, and we were able to enjoy the authentic western town and its outdoor attractions.
“Anyone want to take a ride on the stagecoach?” I asked, noting a stage stop and an authentic red U.S. mail coach being driven by horses.
“I’d rather go see the cowboy bar,” Annette said.
“Whatever you want,” Kim replied. “It’s your birthday.”
Inside the nondescript wooden façade with the neon sign was a saloon that displayed the true atmosphere of the Wild West. Red carpet, cowboy memorabilia and murals, knobbled pine architecture, and barstools made of genuine leather saddles greeted us when we stepped into the dim interior. A stage for bands or dancing was at the far end of the building. Four guys in cowboy hats and baseball caps played at one of the pool tables. Only a few other customers lined the bar at that time of day.
“What’ll you have, ladies?” the bartender asked us. We all ordered a beer, except for Annette, who was a strict teetotaler.
“I’ll have a Coke,” she said, running her palm across the long polished bar.
“This bar is embellished with five hundred and ninety-two silver dollars,” the bartender said. He pointed to the coins embedded in the wood.
“Do you have live music?” Kim asked.
“Do we ever. Some of the best country musicians have played here. Waylon Jennings, Glen Campbell, Tanya Tucker, Hoyt Axton, Willie Nelson… You name them, they’ve played here.” He set glasses of beer and Coke in front of us. “You ladies ought to come back tonight. There’s no live band on Sunday nights, but we’ll have jukebox music and you can dance to your heart’s desire.”
He’d mentioned the magic word. “We’re line dancers,” Jackie told him. “Maybe we’ll perform for your customers tonight, if you promise to pour us a free round of drinks.”
The bartender grinned, displaying a gap between his front teeth. “My customers would enjoy a live performance by such a comely group of ladies. It’s a promise.”
“I like this place,” Annette said, gazing around.
“It’s her birthday today,” Crystal told the bartender.
“Happy birthday, ma’am. That Coke is on the house. You all stop by later tonight and we’ll help you celebrate. Won’t
we, boys?” He glanced at the men playing pool. One of them mumbled, “Hell, yeah.”
“We will. Thank you,” Annette replied with a smile.
~ * ~
During dinner, Annette invited everyone from our tour to join us at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar at nine o’clock to see us dance and to celebrate her birthday. Some of the more adventurous seniors accepted the invitation, including the five amigas. By the time nine o’clock arrived, however, only three women were still gung ho to accompany us.
The neon sign outside the bar was lit up when we arrived, and a dozen motorcycles were parked along the street.
“Do you think there might be a rumble tonight?” Doris asked, causing us to chuckle. She and her daring friends followed us inside.
The place was jam-packed and jumping with music, people playing pool, and raucous chatter. The same bartender from the afternoon waved to us when he saw us.
“I was hoping you ladies meant it when you said you’d be back tonight. As you can see, we have a full crowd waiting to watch you dance.”
“Where’d they all come from?” Donna asked, glancing around at the bikers, cowboys, and a couple of men who looked like fish out of water in their suits and ties.
“Jackson is a small town, ma’am. Word gets around fast, especially when pretty ladies are involved.”
“I’m nervous,” Crystal admitted, glimpsing at the roughnecks lining the bar. “What if they don’t like us and boo us off the stage?”
Jackie rolled her eyes. “That’s not going to happen. Most of these guys are already drunk from the looks of it. They’d probably whistle at dogs dressed in tutus.”
“Are you comparing us to dogs?” Crystal said, planting her hands on her wide hips.
“Please stop fussing with each other,” Annette said. “I want to have a drink and then dance.” She gently squeezed her way between two men sitting at the bar and flashed them her best beauty pageant smile. “Excuse me, gentlemen. It’s my birthday today and I’d like a drink. Please pour me a glass of wine, bartender.”
Line Dancing Can Be Murder Page 6
