He’d had a few misgivings when he researched Catherine Andrews. Her sister’s reputation wasn’t nearly as sterling. But then it could be used to his benefit. Other politicians had relatives with less than stellar reputations and it made for excellent press coverage. Drop the right little tidbit in the right place and suddenly Catherine and Ethan were in the news. His file on Catherine was an inch thick and there wasn’t one bad word in it.
He looked up from behind Ethan’s desk and smiled when Catherine walked into the room, but it did not reach his brown eyes. She barely glanced his way and went right to the chair where Ethan sat and braced a hip on the arm. When Ethan looked up, she brushed a kiss across his lips.
“You were supposed to wear a blue suit. Ethan has dressed accordingly, so you would match and make a statement, and where is your lapel pin?” Clayton asked.
The woman had the audacity not to answer him. She brushed a piece of lint from Ethan’s shoulder and said, “Darlin’, you look very handsome. If the polls were open today, I’d vote for you. Shall we go on out and make our entrance for the press?”
Clayton’s eyes grew an extra layer of ice. “Did you bring the prenup?”
Finally, she looked at him. “No, we’ll talk about that later. Today is Ethan’s big day. We don’t want to ruin it. Besides, my lawyer couldn’t get away until tomorrow to go over it with me. Ethan?”
For the first time Clayton wondered if he’d chosen the right woman. It was salvageable if she didn’t shape up. She could always die. The press from that would be wonderful. Clayton could just see Ethan at her funeral, touching the casket, tears rolling down his cheeks onto his black suit, and at the cemetery laying flowers on her tombstone. Oh, yes, the public loved to support a poor bereaved widower.
* * *
Ethan had a lovely honest smile, and he flashed it at the camera when he and Catherine walked out of the study, her hand tucked away in his. She was a beautiful woman, and he was grateful to Clayton for being instrumental in getting them together. It had all started so innocently. Clayton had told him that the woman he had been seeing was not the wife of a politician and that if he was serious about the election he had to think past his selfish desires. He needed a woman who had a spotless past and a good name. Ethan had mentioned Cathy, and Clayton stayed on his back until he finally did ask her out. Now they were standing in the foyer with the press cameras lighting up the room.
Catherine kissed him on the cheek and said, “It’s your turn to shine. You’ll make them all vote for you. Call me when you are ready for the picture of us together.” Then she quietly faded back into the study.
Like his mother, Catherine knew what to do, and she did it. She was a lady, and she’d bring grace to his life and office. Too bad he didn’t love her, but then, like Clayton said, “Love is one thing, marriage is another, and sex gets the top billing with neither love nor marriage being a factor.”
* * *
Marty had a gorgeous blue suit that she had worn to her father’s and mother’s funerals. Cathy had planned to borrow it, but when she awoke that morning, the first thing she saw was that danged prenup on the desk with her e-reader right beside it. Symbolically, they represented what she wanted and what she was going to get.
That’s when she had decided to wear the same suit she’d worn to the club. The scarf was one that she’d received from a fellow teacher when she quit teaching. The lie about the scarf had slid off her tongue so slick that she wondered if she and Marty had really switched spirits that morning.
Clayton rounded the end of the desk on his way out as she entered the office. He was a nice-looking man. Nothing he could do short of plastic surgery would ever make him look less like the devil to Cathy, but maybe there was good in his soul…somewhere.
“I’m on my way out to the conference, Catherine,” he said.
“I’m sure you are. This won’t take long. That prenup is on my desk at home. My lawyer is really coming tomorrow, and we’re going to read it together. That is, if you call off the dogs on this zoning law. If not, I’m going to shred it.”
“When the prenup is in my hands, I’ll call them off. It’s up to you how much damage gets done before that,” he said.
She wasn’t backing down this time. Violet could have her way with the stupid cake, but her dress was bought, and she wasn’t going to sign that blasted prenup until Clayton backed down on the zoning issue. She didn’t want Ethan’s inheritance or Violet’s house, but she was not giving up her job or her mother’s car. That much was as reasonable as she planned to get.
“There’s a meeting tonight. You know who to call to make it go away, Mr. Mason. I can look at that prenup favorably tomorrow, or I can tear it up and you can start all over. We’re pretty close to the election for problems, aren’t we?”
She sat down on the arm of the same chair where Ethan had been sitting moments before. “Trixie is going to the meeting. When she comes home with the news, I’ll know what to do. Oh, and I want that whole block, both sides, zoned commercial. That way, if Aunt Agnes decides to sell her house, she’ll get more for it. Now run along so you can be in the pictures. Don’t forget to smile. It makes your features less harsh. And tell Violet that I’m in here waiting for her summons when I’m needed.”
He flashed a look over his shoulder that sent shivers down her spine as he left. Cathy fell over into the chair, threw her head back on the chair, and took six long breaths. Where on earth had she gotten the courage to say that? And what had she just done? Clayton could kill her by staring at her ten whole seconds with those icy eyes.
“One for e-reader. Zero for prenup,” she said, wishing she had a shot of Trixie’s Jack Daniels.
* * *
It was not possible to take off deodorant that was applied in the morning and leave only the sweat smell of a whole day’s work in its wake. Trixie would have done so if she could, and then, when Anna Ruth sat down beside her at the meeting of Council and Chamber committees that evening, she would give her a big hug.
Trixie didn’t change from the jeans and T-shirt with Clawdy’s logo on the front. She just laid aside her scrapbook papers, dusted what bits of paper she could see from her jeans, and walked kitty-corner across the street.
The awkward silence that met her said that she’d been the topic of conversation, but she didn’t care if they were painting her as the smelliest villain in all of Texas. She wasn’t there to model the newest fashions. She was there to keep that damned zoning dispute from closing Clawdy’s.
“Am I late?” she called out.
Violet’s glare was probably meant to shrivel her up into nothing but a sweaty prune, but it made Trixie giggle.
Violet shook her chubby finger at Trixie. “And what is so funny?”
The woman looked like she’d just eaten a cow-patty sandwich. What had happened at the press thing that day anyway? Cathy had said that it went well, but the look on Violet’s face didn’t back up Cathy’s story.
“Were you looking out the window and talking about how tacky I look?” Trixie answered with a question. “That’s what it looked like when I came in and the whole place went quiet as a tomb.”
“Of course not!” Anna Ruth blushed.
Violet edged her way to the front of the room and everyone else found a seat. “We have better things to discuss than the ex-wife of one of our policemen, Trixie. Now that we are finally all here, let’s get on with the meeting. This is informal so we aren’t calling it to order. We’re here to discuss the Craft Festival. The Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society usually takes the job of the concession stand at the football field, but this year we are in charge of our very own table with handmade items. Of course, Ethan will deliver the speech and we’ll be passing out little flags to everyone to wave after Ethan gives his speech and we play the National Anthem. So the Chamber will take the concession stand and work along with the police department. Anyone have a problem with that?”
So much for it being informal. The queen was in the room.
Trixie raised her hand. “That’s from six to nine, right?”
Violet smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“Then as spokesman for the Chamber, I’ll agree. How many policemen can I have for the concession stand?”
“That’s up to you, Trixie. I can’t imagine you’d want to work with your ex-husband, but I’m sure you can persuade enough of the others to help you. Now on to the next thing. The Blue-Ribbon Jalapeño Society would like to take charge of the booth spaces at the Jalapeño Jubilee. We’ll make sure their fees are paid and everyone is set up to their best advantage. And this year instead of roping off a side street, we have gotten permission from Andy to use Main Street.”
“Which two blocks?” Trixie asked.
“The block to the west of Miss Clawdy’s and the one to the east.”
“Are you planning to use the Christian church lot for extra parking?” Trixie asked.
“I’m sure that the preacher won’t mind,” Violet said and started to go on.
“I’d get her permission first and ask Andy if he’s willing to clean up the mess that will get made,” Trixie said.
Anna Ruth cleared her throat.
She could ahem until there was a snowstorm in Cadillac in July, but Trixie wouldn’t stop talking about Andy. She’d been married to him fourteen years, and she knew him better than Anna Ruth did.
Violet held out the golden fingernail to Anna Ruth. “Put that in your notes. I’m sure you can talk Andy into doing that for us and you can go talk to the preacher over there.”
“Darla Jean,” Trixie said.
Someone in the back snickered.
“What?” Violet raised an eyebrow.
“The preacher is Darla Jean. It might go better if you know her name. And I’d like to know what’s been decided about the zoning issue.”
Violet’s mouth clamped shut so tightly that Trixie wondered if she’d gotten her lip gloss and superglue mixed up. It took a while but finally Violet quit working her jaws and held up a hand. Trixie figured that meant they’d be talking to Darla Jean’s lawyer about more than a prenup the next day.
“That has been resolved. Clayton Mason has reviewed the papers for all parties involved. It appears that the Council is willing to rezone that block into a commercial status. Now on to the next thing. How many food vendors at Cadillac’s Jalapeño Jubilee this year? And do they all have to have some form of jalapeños as in salsa, pepper sauces, or jellies to sell?”
A person at the back said that the food vendors brought in a lot of business so it was decided they’d let whoever wanted to sell Indian tacos, baked goods, chili, or whatever at the Jubilee. However, the only way they could get the coveted Jubilee Award for best booth was to serve jalapeños in some form.
Trixie’s mind was running in circles like a hamster on an exercise wheel. They’d gotten their zoning status, but it had been too easy. It had something to do with that press conference. What in the hell had Cathy done?
“And the last thing is, I understand Martha Andrews has damaged her Caddy again. It’s a shame that she drives like a drunk teenager, but what are we to do?” Violet smiled at Anna Ruth.
“So”—Violet dragged the word out dramatically—“we won’t have the vintage Caddy to bring up the rear of the parade. We need one for Andy to ride in as last year’s celebrity, so y’all be thinking of one by the next Council meeting.”
“Doesn’t Marty always head up the parade? It’s tradition,” someone asked.
Violet puffed out her chest and turned on her best smile. “We are changing things this year. Ethan will be riding in a brand-spanking-new Caddy limo at the front of the parade. Now I don’t think we have anything else, but Annabel has made her famous pecan sandy cookies, and we have coffee for anyone who’d like to stay and visit.”
Trixie didn’t want to visit with anyone so she beat a path across the street. She expected to find Cathy in the kitchen wringing her hands in worry. But the whole house was empty. No Marty, Cathy, Darla Jean, or even Agnes. There was a note on the refrigerator that said Cathy and Marty had made a run to Walmart and to call them if she got home before they did.
“Hello,” Marty answered on the first ring.
“Tell Cathy thanks.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know how she did it, but the zoning law is good for the whole block, and Violet didn’t want to talk about it. I just hope she didn’t sell her soul for us.”
* * *
Agnes didn’t give a damn if the whole town of Cadillac was zoned commercial. She intended to leave her house feet first in a body bag. She’d be stone cold dead, but she did want Cathy to get a fair price for the place so she kept a watch on the cars down the street at the Community Center.
She would have gone to the meeting herself, crawled up on the stump, and went to preaching about bringing business into town if the fools would stop their politics and do things right, but if she had, Violet Prescott would have dug her heels in tighter. Damned old stubborn bitch thought she was taking Cathy away from her to make her pay for marrying Bert. Well, there hadn’t been a wedding yet and Agnes would fight it right up until Cathy walked down the aisle.
Just how much money would she have to lay out to have someone kidnap Cathy and hold her captive until she came to her senses? Maybe Trixie knew someone who’d do the deed. No, never! Agnes wouldn’t ask Trixie to help her with jack shit. She’d get it all wrong, but maybe if Trixie kidnapped Ethan and terrorized him, he’d be too traumatized to get married or take office. Violet would have a heart attack and die. And Trixie would go to jail. Solve lots of problems that way.
Agnes didn’t like Trixie. Never had. Never would. The woman was an idiot and Agnes had no time for fools. Andy Johnson had been a womanizer from the time he was old enough to chase a skirt and any woman who married him was a complete moron. To stay married to him meant she was a fool. Not catching him in his philandering just meant she had her head up her ass in all that craft shit and that made her an idiot.
Add to it that Trixie had lied about the man in her room that night and it really made Agnes angry. Agnes was old but she had perfectly good eyesight. Never bought a damn pair of glasses in her entire life and she saw what she saw. There was a man in that room and if he wasn’t molesting Trixie then by damn she was allowing him to pin her down on that bed. If the latter was the case, then Trixie had no business living in the house with Cathy and Marty.
She waited until she saw Trixie jog kitty-corner across the street before she put on her house shoes, tucked the key to the back door of the café in the pocket of her chenille robe, and started across the street.
Bless Claudia’s heart for giving her a key to the house before she died. Marty might have wanted it back when they put in the café, but Cathy would never let her ask. For that alone, Cathy deserved to inherit everything Agnes owned. Besides, if she did go through with the wedding, later she might need the money to buy a divorce.
The door wasn’t locked so Agnes let herself in to find Trixie pouring a shot of whiskey in a water glass.
“What are you doing here?” Trixie asked.
“I got more right to be in this house than you. What happened at that meeting?”
“If you want to know then attend.” Trixie downed the shot and poured another one.
Agnes frowned at the smell but Andy would drive any woman to drink. Maybe he had an agreement with the liquor store out at the edge of town. He’d use his charms to get a woman into bed, leave her, and she’d turn into a drunk. The liquor store was probably paying him a nice little check each week on their profits.
“Anna Ruth there?” Agnes asked.
“Oh, yeah. Wearing her spike heels and all dressed up fit to kill.”
Agnes chuckled.
Trixie frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Bet you she’s throwing back a few too. I heard about her and Andy at the Sunday school meeting last night… we was discussing Bible school, whether to have it or not this yea
r. I think it’s a big waste of time. Kids used to think it was a treat to get to go to Bible school and they’d endure the learnin’ about Jesus part if they could have refreshments and do craft projects. Nowadays they’ve got video games and music in their ears and—” She stopped. “Where in the hell was I? You made me lose my train of thought. It’s probably that nasty smell of liquor.”
“Sunday school meeting. Andy and…” Trixie started.
“That’s right. That new woman they hired to be the part-time dispatcher down at the police station. Andy is sleeping with her.”
The blank expression on Trixie’s face was priceless.
Agnes went on, “He’s always had a thing for the women. You just had your head too deep in all that shit you do with paper and ceramics to see it, girl. Wake up and smell the bacon frying. He’s a sumbitch. He’s been screwing around on you ever since y’all got married.”
“They agreed to let the new business come in and they’ve zoned the whole block commercial,” Trixie said in a hollow voice.
Agnes did not feel sorry for her. She should have put her paper dolls and ceramic roosters away years ago and figured out that she’d married a cheatin’ man that wouldn’t ever be faithful to her.
* * *
Jack removed the front grille of the Caddy and set the mangled chrome mess to one side. It would be two weeks before the new one arrived and he’d had a devil of a time finding a salvage yard with one. He could have bought one from the restorer’s catalog, but Marty wanted to keep everything authentic. His head was under the hood again. He had one hand slipped down beside the radiator and the other working at removing it so he could see if it could be repaired or if they’d need to order another one. He heard the fizz of a beer can opening and eased up.
What Happens in Texas Page 11
