***
After supper that evening, Greg went straight to his room, leaving Emily in the den with Dotty, Nana, and the kittens. She’d exercised horses until noon and could hardly wait to get back to the stable to ride more in the afternoon. He would have rather been riding with her, but Max needed more veterinarian supplies. It didn’t matter if there was snow on the ground or if it was over a hundred degrees—when it was time to work cattle, then it had to be done. The ranching business changed little from one year to the next, and it took a dedicated woman to understand it the way Emily did. As determined as she was, he had no doubts left that she could turn a hundred acres into the biggest ranch out there in west Texas if she set her mind to do it.
The whole day he’d thought about what he would write to her. He sat down at his desk and pulled out a sheet of ranch stationery. That night he would pen a letter in his own hand, not type out a message on his laptop and print it.
The first attempt landed in a wadded-up ball close to the trash can. The second followed it. By the third, he was about ready to give up, and then he heard her talking to the kittens on her way to her room.
He picked up the pen again and wrote,
Dear Emily, I cannot ever remember writing a letter to anyone in my whole life, so this is a first and suddenly I’m tongue-tied…
With the sound of her voice lingering in his head, he reached up and touched his lips to see if they were still as warm as when he’d kissed her out there in the cold weather. He went on to write three pages before he closed with a heart symbol and his signature. He looked it over and understood why his grandmother had such an infatuation with those old letters. There was something very personal, very heartfelt, romantic—if he could face that word—about putting words on paper.
He put it into an envelope and addressed it: Emily Cooper, Lightning Ridge Ranch, Across the Landing from Greg Adams.
He laid it on the desk and stared at it. He should tear it up into pieces so small that no one could ever put it back together.
“Not after all the time I put into it,” he whispered.
He picked it up and padded barefoot across the landing. He could hear her singing and water running, so she had to be in the shower. Before he lost his nerve, he slid it under the door and went back to his room, picked up the remote, and turned on the television.
***
Emily wrapped a towel around her head and one around her body. The kittens were busy attacking something over by the door, but she figured it was one of her white socks. She dried her hair, ran a brush through it, and wiped the water droplets from her body before donning a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top.
Bocephus growled at Simba, grabbed the sock, and was on his way under the bed with it when Emily realized that it was an envelope, not a sock. It took crawling on her knees and chasing him down to take it away from him. When she saw her name she figured it was a cute little invitation from Clarice asking her to the Angus party. Who else would be writing a note?
She took it to the chair, turned on the lamp beside it, and settled down to read whatever it was. She giggled when she saw the address, but it wasn’t until she opened the letter that she realized it was from Greg.
She read it five times before she held it to her chest and went searching through her suitcase for a pen and paper. All she had was a spiral notebook that wasn’t nearly as fancy as his letterhead stationery, but it would have to do for that night. Maybe when she and the ladies went shopping she could find some decent stationery… if anyone still sold it.
“And a whole pad of sticky notes,” she mumbled.
She wrote with a sharpened yellow pencil because she couldn’t find a pen, not in her suitcase or in her purse.
Dear Greg, what a lovely surprise to find your letter. It’s your first letter to write. It’s my first to receive. I’ve gotten cards but never a personal letter, and it touches my heart. I’ve never written a letter to anyone either, so this is new territory for me…
She went on to tell him how much she loved the kittens and how much it meant to her that he brought them to her, what a wonderful time she had that day riding the horses, and how much she liked Lightning Ridge. When she finished she realized that she didn’t even have an envelope to put her note inside, so she folded it neatly and wrote on the outside: Greg Adams, Lightning Ridge Ranch, Across the Landing from Emily Cooper.
She looked both ways before she slipped out of her room. There was still light showing under his door, so she gave it a shove and hurried back to her room where she read his letter twice more before she went to bed.
Chapter 12
Greg was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase the next morning when Emily started down. His green eyes twinkled when he looked up at her.
“I liked it. There’s something so personal about it. I think I understand Nana better,” he said. “So the snow is almost melted and the roads are clear. Are you assistant or hired hand today?”
“Don’t know for sure until I ask Clarice,” she said. “Ready for breakfast?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stood up, shook the legs of his jeans down over his work boots, and crooked his arm.
She tucked hers inside the loop, and he covered her hand with his. “I’m already looking forward to tonight,” she said.
“Me too.” He smiled down at her.
The desire to kiss him was so great that she had to blink and look away.
“Well, look who’s up and ready to get on with the day.” Dotty grinned.
Clarice was dressed in ironed jeans, a light blue shirt, and a red blazer. Dotty wore jeans and a dark green sweater. It looked like they were going Christmas shopping rather than Valentine’s party shopping.
“I guess that by the way you two are already all spiced up that we’re going to town today,” Emily said.
Clarice looked up from her morning newspaper. “We are, but you’ve got plenty of time to eat. Tressa doesn’t open until nine. We’re picking up Rose and Madge on the way. Tomorrow we’re having our hair and nails done in Sherman, so you belong to us two days in a row.”
Greg poured two cups of coffee and set one in front of Emily. “Dominoes tomorrow night or not?”
“Oh, speaking of dominoes tomorrow night, I asked Prissy to join us,” Dotty said.
“Why? Don’t we have enough people to play?” Greg asked.
Dotty raised a shoulder in a shrug. “Truth is I need her to help me with a computer problem, and since she’s going to be here anyway, she can stay and play with us.”
Clarice put down her newspaper. “We’ll set up two tables and we won’t play partners like last time.”
“Oh!” Emily gasped.
They all three looked her way.
“I flat-out forgot that it’s my job to cook. We won’t take all day doing the shopping, will we?”
“I’ve got some secrets that I’ll share,” Dotty whispered. “I won’t cook for you, but I do have a few quick recipes.”
Greg’s phone rang and he answered it while the ladies went on with their conversation.
Clarice patted Emily on the hand. “Dotty could prepare a meal good enough to feed a king in under an hour. She’s that good.”
Greg put his hat and coat on. “I’m going to the bunkhouse. That damned hot water tank is on the blink again. I guess it’s time to buy a new one.”
Emily waited until he was out the door and said, “I hate not telling him what’s going on with Prissy and what y’all are doing. I feel like a traitor.”
“But we want him to have a whole bunch of women to pick from. Think of it as a business. We’ve done the preliminary interviews. Now he can get down to the serious shit,” Dotty said and then changed the subject. “Clarice, are we going to put Simba and Bocephus in solitary confinement for the domino night?”
Clarice smiled. “Of course not. Mad
ge has indoor cats and so does Rose. Prissy don’t like cats, but she’s not allergic to them.”
***
Clarice whispered into Dotty’s ear, “Well done, old girl. You sidestepped that real good. Now she’ll worry all about them women she has to compete with. Did you really invite yours yet?”
“Oh, yes, I did. A little competition never hurt anyone, did it? OMG, you don’t think she’ll shoot one if they get too close to him, do you?” Dotty grinned.
“FYI, I hope not! Now here is our golden chariot with our princess driving. Let’s go do some major retail therapy, as Rose calls it,” Clarice said.
They picked up Madge first that morning. And when they reached Rose’s house, she wasted no time hustling out to the van.
“Ivy just called me and said that Prissy was coming to domino night. Which one of y’all is having trouble with your machine? Emily, can you help out? He’s going to catch on before the auction. I just know he is and then we’ll all be in trouble,” Rose rambled.
Madge finally clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Hush and stop your carryin’ on. Even after that thing with the stripper, we’re okay. Emily took care of it.”
“Turn right here and then park at the first sign of a place. Parking is limited down in this area of town,” Clarice said.
Tressa’s Dress Shop didn’t look like such an exclusive place from the outside. Wedged between a doctor’s office and a shoe store, it had two display windows, with mannequins dressed in casual attire on one side, and on the other a mannequin in a party gown seated at a tea table. It reminded Emily of an old movie setting instead of a modern-day dress shop. Inside she picked up the first tag and blinked half a dozen times. It did not change the handwritten numbers one bit. She might pay a hundred bucks for a fancy pair of jeans for the fall ranch sale, but six hundred dollars for a little black dress was just plain crazy.
A gray-haired lady came from behind the counter and gave Clarice a hug. “Miz Adams, I’m so glad to see you. It’s been a while. I bet it’s time for the Angus Valentine’s party, right? And this is the young lady you called me about yesterday. I do believe you sized her just right.”
Tressa’s gray hair was pulled back into a tight little bun at the nape of her neck. Bright red lipstick had bled into the wrinkles around her mouth, and crow’s-feet had settled around her green eyes. She folded her arms across her big chest and eyed Emily critically.
“The red one isn’t the right one, Miz Adams. No, ma’am. Everyone else will be wearing red or white. This one needs to stand out, and I got just the right dress in yesterday. It’s definitely one of a kind.” Tressa went to the back room and returned with a long dress on a hanger.
Run, run, run, Emily, played through her mind as she looked at the ugliest pale blue dress she’d ever seen. Emily would look like she was wearing her Nana’s nightgown.
“Some dresses are hanger dresses. Some are not.” Tressa removed the plastic bag and shook the dress out. “It was designed for a short lady like you, and she decided at the last minute that she wanted something in red. She didn’t have your eyes or hair and would have never pulled it off like you will. She had a bit too much flesh on her back and thighs and this requires absolutely nothing under it.”
Emily checked for the price tag when she got to the dressing room, but there wasn’t one. She muttered as she removed her jeans and boots about not paying more for the ugly bit of blue silk than she would a decent pair of jeans with bling on the pockets. She pulled off her bra and her underpants but left her white boot socks on and stretched them up to her knees. There was a clip in her purse so she twisted her hair up in a messy French twist and secured it with the black toothed clamp.
“Well, here goes nothing,” she said as she put the dress over her head and let it shimmy down her naked form.
“Oh, my God, it feels like cool water against my skin. It really is a nightgown.” She smiled. And then she turned around to look at herself in the three-way mirror. Tressa was a genius. The subtle silver threads woven into the shimmering blue silk picked up the light every time she moved. Thank God there was a built-in bra because Tressa had been right about not wearing anything under it. The faintest panty line would show and even a touch of cellulite would shine through like Christmas tree lights.
The back draped from the shoulders to the waist in soft folds, and the walking slit up the back seam went from the floor to four inches below her fanny. She was totally in love with the dress, and if she had to sell the ranch to Taylor to pay for it, she had to own it.
“Come on out here and let’s see,” Clarice called from the other side of the door.
Tressa pointed. “Right up here on the bride’s stand so I can really look at it. Yes, it’s perfect on you.”
The round stand surrounded by mirrors was much better than what was in the dressing room, and Emily fell in love with the dress all over again.
“Them socks ain’t goin’ to cut it, girl. We’d better look at some shoes too, Tressa,” Dotty said.
“I thought I’d go barefoot or wear my boots,” Emily teased.
“As near barefoot as possible. You do not want to draw the eye to your feet, but you want the men folks to ache to touch your bare arms and shoulders. You want them to imagine what could be under that dress,” Tressa said.
Emily felt the heat rising from her neck and circling around to her face, but there wasn’t a blessed thing she could do about it.
Clarice smiled and nodded. “What have you got, Tressa?”
Madge giggled. “This is more fun than Barbie dolls.”
“Shit, woman! We’re all too damned old to have ever played with Barbie dolls,” Dotty said.
Tressa left and returned with a shoebox. “Size six, right?”
“How…” Emily started.
“Honey, I’ve been in this business almost fifty years. I can tell every one of you what size you wear, what size your bra is, and your shoe size. They weren’t ordered to go with the dress, but I think that’s what it needs.” She opened the box to reveal silver slippers with flat soles and no bling.
They looked so plain that Emily was disappointed until Tressa jerked off her socks and slipped them on her feet.
“See, they won’t hurt your feet when you dance and they won’t jack you up to be even an inch taller. You need to play on your petite size and femininity, and most especially your mesmerizing blue eyes. You should not be wobbling on heels so high that you look like a clown on stilts at a circus. Shoes should enhance, not overpower.”
The woman was a genius. Emily wanted to adopt her.
“Jewelry?” Rose asked.
“Diamond ear studs. Nothing dangling, and have her hair done in an upsweep that will show off the back of the dress. Maybe a pretty but small clasp in all that dark hair would be nice. Nothing overpowering. The dress will carry the evening,” Tressa said.
“She can borrow my studs,” Clarice said. “Corsage or not?”
“Are the other women wearing flowers?” Tressa asked.
Clarice nodded. “They usually do.”
“Then you shouldn’t. You don’t want to be like everyone else, darlin’. You want to stand out as the exotic flower among the weeds.” Tressa smiled for the first time.
“Do you take credit cards or checks?” Emily asked.
Tressa patted Emily on the wrist. “For you, neither. This one is on the house. I have owed Miz Adams a favor for twenty-five years that she would not let me repay. Please allow me to do this in return for something she did for me.”
When they were in the van and the gorgeous dress was hanging in a special garment bag, Emily looked over at Clarice and asked the question, “What was this favor?”
“It was nothing.” Clarice’s cheeks turned bright red.
Rose held up her hand like a second grader. “I’ll tell you. In the early nineties, with the arrival of a
ll the cheaper stores, Tressa was either going to have to fold or go to cheaper clothes off the rack rather than one of a kind. She went to the bank for a loan, but they said that she was a bad risk.”
Clarice raised a shoulder. “I liked her things and we need a place like she runs in the area. If we wanted something really outrageously nice, we had to go to Dallas.”
“So Clarice bankrolled her,” Dotty said.
“And she weathered the storm and paid me back every single dime,” Clarice said. “Now the favor is really paid in full. You will be lovely at the party, my child.”
“I would have gladly paid for it.”
Madge tapped her on the shoulder. “We all have to learn how to receive as well as give, darlin’. Consider it a lesson with benefits. Now let’s go to the Catfish King and eat lunch. Then we’ll go to Walmart and have a good time there. I hear you got two new cats. I love their names.”
***
“What in the hell are you so upset about? You’ve done nothing but fuss and fume like an old woman all damn day,” Max asked.
“Women! Something is going on and I can’t put my finger on it,” Greg said.
“Understanding all that rocket launching shit down in Houston would be easier than understanding the simplest of women. What have they done anyway?”
“Whatever they are up to, I know Dotty and Nana are in the middle of it. And Emily might be and that’s what makes me so mad. It’s got something to do with that woman who showed up at my cabin. I’m still mad at Louis for telling her where to find me,” Greg said.
“What could they be up to? Lord, Greg, they’re four old women and the youngest one of them is eighty years old. And Louis says that he had no idea what she wanted to see you about.”
“Something fishy is going on. Why don’t you come to the house and play dominoes with us? You’ll see what I mean. There’s all these little sly glances and whispers, and Prissy is in on it too.”
“A conspiracy? Are you losing it?” Max laughed. “Just date Emily and if they are up to something, she’ll have to tell you because she’ll be your girlfriend.”
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