“I prefer tenacious, but ruthless works just fine. It’s a tough world out there, chickies.” She waved her hand. “Now go away and lick your wounds and leave me to eat in peace.”
Georgette exchanged glances with Callie and Sally, and Georgette said, “Well, I guess you won this one.”
“You bet your sweet patootie, I did.”
The girls wandered over to the bar. Callie and Georgette sat at stools. Sally went behind. She snagged three beers, twisted the tops and passed them out. They clanked the long necks together and gulped. Sally propped her chin in her hand and said to Callie, “What are you going to do about Eleanor and her going after your job?”
Callie took another gulp. “Write her a letter of recommendation. I am done with that rag. When they ran that story I knew it was over. I’d like to stay here, work at the Landing Times and do freelance magazine articles about the area. Maybe write a book, The Mississippi Mud, talk about the river towns, how they grew, legends; the legends are the best part. But with my reputation ruined by this Soap Scoops article no one will talk to me. They won’t trust me to do their story right.” She shrugged and looked at Sally. “Need another waitress?”
Sally grinned and took her hand. “You bet. But something else will turn up for you, I know it.”
She turned to Georgette. “I’m sorry you got caught up in this, I really am. You were an innocent bystander and got sucked in. You and Digger seemed to really hit it off, and in time you two will work it out and—”
“Hold your horses, girl,” Georgette said. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I have a present for you . . . and me, too, for that matter, because I’m thinking of staying here. Rachel will need someone to water her roses while she’s off globe-trotting, and I can do taxes and financial consulting on the Landing. I think I want to live on the river again.”
She winked. “Eleanor knew I made the recordings; she just never knew how. Are you ready, chickies?” Georgette took her purse, pulled out the phone Bob had given her, hit rewind, then play, cranked up the volume and held it up for all to hear.
The room filled with the voice of Eleanor Stick telling how she wrote the article for Soap Scoops. Everyone stopped eating, no clinking dishes or glasses. They listened as the conversation continued, their gazes going from the three at the bar to Eleanor at the table in the back. She finally stood, held her head high, gave everyone the bird and sauntered out accompanied by a round of applause.
Georgette stopped the tape, and the girls clinked long necks again. Callie said, “I don’t believe you did that. How brilliant. To Georgette.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Digger said as he entered the saloon and stood at the end of the bar, hands on hips, low-riding jeans looking more handsome than ever.
Georgette dropped the phone back in her purse, and Digger said, “Talk to me, Georgette.”
She tsked. “I thought I heard someone call my name.” She looked the other way. “I must be imagining things; no one’s here.” She yawned, and Digger turned her stool around till she faced him. “I’m calling your name, and I want to talk to you.”
She shrugged. “So talk. It’s a free country. I can’t stop you.”
He glanced around. “Okay, if this is where it has to be, I can live with it. You’re going to hear me out. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I don’t know who’s responsible for that article, but I know it’s not you. Life’s not worth living without you in it. When you left Hastings House I thought you’d gone for good, and that about killed me.”
“But here you are not dead and pestering me to no end.”
He snapped the beer from her hand, slammed it on the counter and picked her up into his arms. “Sass. I come here with an apology, and I get sass.”
“And what do you think you deserve?”
“A chance to make it up to you, to show you how sorry I am, and I don’t care what evidence there is that you wrote the article. I don’t believe one damn word of it. I know you, and that article isn’t you at all.”
Callie handed Georgette her purse. “You might need this.” Georgette handed it back. “Na, I think I’m going to have a lot more fun this way.” She looped her arms around Digger’s neck. “And where are you taking me, Digger O’Dell?”
“Memphis.” He kissed her hard. “To the Heartbreak Hotel because my heart’s breakin’ without you, girl. And we’re staying in the Burning Love Suite. If I can’t convince you there, with all that red velvet and lace and big Jacuzzi, how crazy I am about you, I don’t deserve you.”
The saloon erupted in wolf whistles and clapping and suggestive words of encouragement as Digger carried Georgette out into a hint of sunshine. She said, “Aren’t you supposed to be working on the Lee?”
“She’ll just have to wait a spell. I have another woman who needs working on.” He put Georgette on the back of his motorcycle, then hitched his leg over the front.
“But I don’t have any clothes to sleep in, Digger.” He turned, and she gave him her best innocent little girl look and batted her eyes. “And my-oh-my, I don’t have any money either, not a penny. I guess I’m at your mercy, Digger. What are you going to do about that?”
He laughed deep in his throat as he revved the Harley. He stole a quick kiss, then headed down the road toward Memphis.
Chapter 17
Callie came down the stairs after putting Bonnie in for a nap. She started to clean up the living room, picking up toys and blankets as Rory came in. Callie said, “Little dumpling is snoozing. You just missed her.”
“It’s the other dumpling I’m looking for, the big one, who tends to shoot off his mouth.”
“If you’re referring to Keefe, I haven’t seen him since this morning at Hastings House. I guess the play is taking up a lot of his time.”
“Probably feeling damn ashamed since he pulled that stunt on you at Slim’s. How in blue blazes could he think you’d do that article? Makes no sense.”
“Actually it makes a lot of sense. I think he was mad at himself for being an actor and putting his family in danger. You all mean the earth to him, and if it weren’t for him, that article would never have been written. Coming after me was pretty logical. He was angry at himself, the magazine and all connected with it. And, he said he was sorry.”
“He did?”
“We were sliding down a creek bed to rescue that babysitter.”
Rory grinned. “Well now, there’s only one thing that makes a woman accept a half-ass apology like that and come to a man’s defense when he’s been a complete jackass. You love him, jackass and all.”
She stiffened. “I don’t think so.”
Rory stroked his chin. “Well, you’re wrong, but that will take care of itself. So, have you turned in your resignation to that Soap Scoops yet?”
“How’d you know about that? I just wrote the letter an hour ago. Didn’t even put it in the mail yet. I told them to hire Eleanor Stick. She has that bulldog approach to getting a juicy story, something I never did all that well. She should be good at it.”
Rory sat in the blue wing-back chair and fiddled with Bonnie’s pink rabbit. “So tell me, what are you good at, Callie Cahill?”
“Right now I’ve got unemployed aced. But tomorrow I’m headed over to Hastings House to persuade Thelma to let me dig around in her attic. The place is a museum.”
Callie went to the sideboard and tapped the O’Fallon family album. “I’m going to write about something other than TV personalities, like the Mississippi River and the towns and families. Include pictures from long ago like the ones in here—and new pictures of families and towns the way they are now.”
She held up a picture of Bonnie, Rory and . . . She stopped and studied that picture hard. Slowly, her eyes met Rory’s across the living room. The only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock and a breeze in the oaks outside. His eyes darkened a shade, and she swallowed, then smiled. “You know, some of these pictures are best kept in a drawer where they’re safe and out of
harm’s way.”
Callie put the picture in the back of the drawer in the sideboard. “I think before I go over to Hastings House tomorrow morning I’ll give Thelma a call and ask her if it’s a good time for me to visit.”
Rory nodded. His eyes misty. “She can get kind of busy from time to time over there.”
“Plumbing’s a problem, too.”
“Can be.” Rory nodded again. “Thought I’d check it out now. See if everything’s okay.” He stood and paused for a moment. “Just for the record, I like you a lot, Callie, and nothing would make me happier than to see you and Shakespeare get together and live right here on the Landing. I got some property upriver that would suit a writer, an actor and some grandbabies just fine. Think you can make that happen for an old man?”
“Since there isn’t any old man around here, and you’re playing on my sympathies, I don’t know.” She kissed him on the cheek and sighed. “I’ll give it my best shot, and I have no idea what that means.”
Rory grinned and slapped his thigh. “Well, hot-damn. The old man trick gets ‘em every time.”
Callie laughed, “You’re incorrigible.”
“Hell yes, and proud of it.”
Rory strolled out of the room whistling. Family was everything . . . unless they were jerks and didn’t support you when you needed it most.
She hated that Keefe hadn’t supported her, but she’d done the same thing to LuLu, so she was in no position to throw stones. Guilt sat like a rock in Callie’s chest. Okay, she had to make things right with her sister. Going to film school was not what Callie wanted at all for LuLu, but the bottom line was that didn’t matter. What did matter was she loved her sister more than anything.
———
Keefe watched the actors troop across the deserted dock, the Lee riding gently on Mississippi River swells, a mockingbird singing a night song in the distance. Demar walked down the dock toward him, stopping to talk to Roberta and Ty and the others.
He stepped onto the stern-wheeler and pulled two beers from a sack. Opened one and handed it to Keefe, then took the other for himself. They took a gulp, a puff of river breeze stirring the evening air. Keefe asked, “What happened to the baby-sitter and her contact? Last I heard from Sally you’d made the phone call and were waiting.”
Demar grinned. “Got him, mustache, limp and all, just like the girls said. And he used to work in the Attorney General’s Office in Nashville. He hasn’t confessed to anything, but I bet he’s the one who told the honchos at River Environs that Mimi had that second set of books, and that’s why they tried to get her.”
“But we still don’t have the three presidents of the company. I bet they’re long gone by now.”
“Not necessarily. They have huge financial holdings here and can’t touch them as long as they’re suspects. They’re going to try and get rid of Mimi and her evidence, and then they’re free as birds.” He nodded at the stage. “You really get into the directing thing. Everyone’s talking about how good the play is. Ever think about doing it full time?”
“I already have a job that pays one hell of a lot better, and if I don’t get back to it pretty soon, the writers will have me polished off in a gang war or something, and I’ll be back to ground zero.”
“Is that so bad?”
Keefe eyed Demar. “Okay, what are you getting at? Not like you to beat around the bush.”
“You’re good here, Keefe. I’ve seen you directing; it’s your thing. Ryan’s coming back, the same with Quaid, your dad’s the best and he has Bonnie. Being with family and real friends is something money can’t buy. What you have on the Landing is unique.”
“And I’m thinking this unique has a lot to do with a feisty brown-eyed babe up the hill.”
“Slim treats me like a son already. I’m staying. This town is the best gig out there, take it from someone who’s been bouncing around his whole damn life. Guess you heard about Eleanor Stick and her performance that was recorded live at Slim’s Restaurant.”
Keefe ran his hand over his face. “I did.”
Demar gave him a wide-eyed look. “So why in the hell are you here and not groveling at Callie Cahill’s feet and getting it on with her?”
“Because I don’t know what to do. After humiliating her in front of half the town last night an I’m sorry, baby and a bouquet of roses doesn’t really cut it.”
“You were trying to protect Bonnie and your dad—she gets that, everyone does—and if you sit here yakking at me and doing nothing, you lose her for sure.”
“Okay, what do I tell her? Come with me to New York and watch me be a soap star? That’s not going to win her over, and it sure as hell is no life for her.”
“Guess the question is, is it the life for you?” Demar stood and gazed down at Keefe. “You got to figure out what you want and then how to get it. I bet you’ve been doing that all your life, and this is no different, except there’s a woman involved. If nothing else, you owe her an apology. Think of it that way and see what happens. You need a plan.”
“Hell, I need a damn script.”
“Then get it.”
Demar walked back down the dock, and Keefe never felt so damn alone. His life was so fucked up he didn’t know how to fix it. A start was to talk to his dad and see if Keefe O’Fallon was still in the will. He tried to smile at the joke but couldn’t. What he wanted was to see if his father was talking to him, period.
Keefe trudged up the hill toward the house, Max coming to meet him, tail wagging, eyes shining bright. He still wore the red Wonder Dog bandanna Callie bought for him. Keefe remembered when she tied it around his neck and he pranced around the kitchen. They’d all applauded. Callie Cahill fit in his family better than he did. Callie got it. She understood just how important family was. That’s why she wanted LuLu to be a lawyer, that’s why she took such good care of Bonnie, that’s why he loved her.
“Keefe?” his father said as he crossed the driveway. “Where have you been? You almost walked right into me. Must have some mighty big problem pressing on your brain.”
“I think it’s amazing that you even talk to me.”
“Christ in a sidecar, boy, why wouldn’t I talk to you?”
“Dad, I gave Bonnie to a complete stranger.”
“You didn’t do nothing of the sort. You did what you thought was best for your family. Just because it wasn’t the right decision doesn’t mean the intent was bad. Hell. None of us are perfect. You do your best at the time and you move on.”
He stroked his chin. “Course, there is something you can do for me. I’m not getting any younger, you know, and it sure would do an old man’s heart good to see you settled and happy.” He hitched his chin toward the house. “Think you could give that a try for your old dad?”
Keefe felt a smile split his face, something that hadn’t happened in a while. “Old dad, my ass. You got a baby. You got more energy than anyone I know, but the happy part sounds damn good. Just don’t know quite how to make it happen.”
“I’m guessing if you go talk to that little filly you brought with you two weeks ago, she might help you out. Sure worth a try.”
“What the hell do I say?”
“Something nice, don’t piss her off. Tell her she has nice shoes; women like that.”
Keefe laughed. “Knowing Callie she’s probably barefoot. Where are you headed?” He sobered. “Hastings House?”
His dad looked him in the eyes. “Thought I might mosey on up that way.”
“Nice night for a walk, and I bet the plumbing’s acting up again.”
“Could be. Everyone knows how those old houses are.”
“You and Thelma are best friends, family. You can trust family to come through for you no matter what.”
His dad gave him a little nod. “That’s the truth.”
Keefe hugged his father. “I’m not leaving till we get Mimi back in this house with you, Dad. You can count on that. You can count on me.”
His dad grinned as Keefe
let him go. “I know I can, son.”
Keefe watched Rory head on down the road, a spring in his step and whistling a tune about a towboat on the river.
Keefe took the front steps two at a time. He puffed out a breath of air. Stage fright, that’s what this was. He was about to put on the performance of a lifetime. He started to knock, and Callie yanked open the door. “Where have you been?”
“Been? I. . . uh . . . had play practice, and then I talked to Dad and—”
“He’s off to check on the plumbing at Hastings House.” They both smiled, and she took his hand, making him suddenly light-headed. “Stanley quit her teaching job.” Callie bit her bottom lip as if waiting for him to say something.
Okay, he had to get this right. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you about the article.”
“You already said that.”
“Well, it wasn’t a very good apology.”
“I’m not picky. What about Stanley?” Callie’s eyes sparkled, and her hair shimmered in the light from the house. She was barefoot and wore denim shorts and a blue T-shirt, and he felt as if no one on earth loved him the way this woman did.
He drew her out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. He sat on the wicker settee and pulled her onto his lap. Then he kissed her. This was what he wanted, home, family, Callie. Most of all Callie.
“Maybe we should throw her a retirement party.” His gaze met Callie’s, and she grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And why would we do that?”
“Because I could take her place.”
Callie’s eyes danced with happiness, and she kissed his lips, his eyes, his nose, every inch of his face. “Really?”
He kissed her back. “God, I love you. How can I screw things up so badly and wind up with Callie Cahill?”
“Because I love you, too. I want to be with you no matter what, and if you want to be a soap star or—”
“No way. My home is here, my heart is here, because you’re here. I can teach drama in the winter, and in the summer I’ll do the showboat. I’ll go in partners with Digger, and we can get the Lee operational by next year and take her on the water.”
The Way U Look Tonight Page 24
