James focused his talk on changes to the juvenile codes. His remarks seemed well received by the mostly older ladies, and he was just finishing up when Milton Bastine walked in and took a seat. Even from across the room, the older man radiated hatred.
James fell silent, shocked, as always, by Bastine’s strong emotions. James could understand a feeling of entitlement because of his age, but to an elected position? That made no sense. Besides, James hadn’t decided to run for office, even though his friend and mentor had encouraged him.
“What, you feeling guilty, Brody?” Bastine called out.
“Mr. Bastine, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and besides, I’ve done nothing to feel guilty about.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Just ask that redheaded floozy you’re running around naked with.”
James heard the gasps from the room at the same time he felt his blood heat and his hands clench.
“That’s enough.”
“No, it’s not! You’re just a young pup. You can’t come into our courthouse and take over.”
“I’m not going to have this conversation with you in this setting, Mr. Bastine. You’re upsetting the ladies and you’re ruining their lunch.”
“Some things are more important than sipping tea and nibbling on little sandwiches. Wise up, ladies, before you invite an immoral womanizer into your midst!”
More gasps followed those idiotic remarks. James opened his phone and dialed 9-1-1. “This is James Brody. There’s a disturbed man at the tearoom,” he told the operator. “I believe an officer should be dispatched.”
“Don’t you threaten me, you…you interloper.”
“Calm down, Mr. Bastine,” James said, walking toward him, hoping he wasn’t carrying a weapon. In Texas, that was always a possibility. He hadn’t thought to ask Harve to check if Bastine had a concealed-carry permit.
“I’m not waiting around for the police to come. They’re probably on your side, anyway.” He leaped from the wooden chair, toppling it. “You think you’ll be elected when your old friend retires, but if I can’t have that position, I’ll make sure you can’t, either!” With that, Bastine pushed past the startled manager and several patrons, who’d stopped to listen.
The front door slammed and silence descended over the group.
“Ladies, I am so sorry,” James began. “He is obviously angry. Unjustifiably, I might add. As you probably know, no one is appointed to succeed anyone else in the judicial system. This remains a democracy.”
He paused and looked at their startled faces. “As for the other accusations…all I can say is that my personal life is just that—personal. I’m dating someone whom I care for a great deal. We are both single people and what we do in the privacy of our homes is our business.” Even if they’d been interrupted by people who ran right to Milton Bastine with a “scandal” that fueled his obsession.
The police came, and James excused himself to answer questions for their report. When he’d finished, many of the ladies had left, but some remained.
“We’re so sorry for you,” one of them said.
“That man has always been an ass,” another stated.
“Who would ever vote for him for anything? I doubt his relatives would even support him! Everyone knows he is crazy.”
“I’m not sure if he’s crazy, but he’s angry,” James said, “and I’m sorry his feud with me ruined your lunch.”
“Why, this is the most exciting luncheon ever!” one of the ladies exclaimed.
I could do without quite as much excitement in my life, James thought as he smiled and prepared to leave.
As he walked toward the front, a very sweet looking elderly lady stopped him with a hand on his arm. “So, you’re not going to tell us anything about running around naked?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not.”
She sighed and patted his sleeve. “Well, an old lady can hope, if you know what I mean.”
After such an adrenaline filled confrontation with Bastine, this lady’s remarks lifted James’s spirits, but only temporarily. His smile faded as he walked back to the courthouse. He had a lot to take care of this afternoon, including one angry, jealous attorney.
“THE CAR WILL BE READY on Thursday,” Claude said, “if the new hoses and belts come in by Wednesday. That’s tomorrow. I can’t rush them no more than I already am.”
“I need to leave, Claude.”
“These things take time. I’m hurrying as much as I can.”
“Christmas is a week from today! The people who rent apartments might go on vacation, and then I won’t have a place to live in L.A.” She might end up in a real dump, or something overpriced, because it was all she could find. Or even a hotel, which would waste more of her money.
“I’m sorry. Maybe you need to spend Christmas right here.”
Scarlett felt like pounding her forehead on Claude’s grimy counter. “I’m starting my new job on January 2. I’m running out of time.”
“Christmas in Brody’s Crossing is mighty fine.”
She shook her head. Why couldn’t she make Claude—or anyone, for that matter—understand? Her new life was in California. Life here in Brody’s Crossing wasn’t real, even if it did feel that way so often lately. Even if it did seem more and more as if she belonged.
Especially when she woke up in James’s arms, in his bed. When they laughed together. When he kissed her…
She sighed. “Just do your best, please.”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely will.”
Scarlett walked back to the salon, hugging her arms around her. She had to leave. She wanted to stay. How had she let herself get into such a quandary? As much as some people wanted to think she was wild and unfocused, she’d always had goals. James knew that about her. He admired her.
And she was going to leave him.
How could she achieve her dream and have James, too? She couldn’t. He’d made it clear that he would never leave Brody’s Crossing. Not even if he loved her.
“Scarlett, are you okay?” Clarissa asked. She stood at the back room counter, pouring a cup of coffee.
“No, not really,” Scarlett said, plopping down on the couch. “I just checked on my car. It should be ready on Thursday. That’s good, I suppose, considering the rest of the parts won’t be here until tomorrow. And I really need to get to L.A. before everyone leaves for Christmas. It’s just that…”
“What, hon?”
“I’m going to be leaving a lot behind.” She felt like crying, like giving in to the emotions she normally kept in check. This time, she couldn’t make a joke or change the subject. She was too upset.
“It’s James, isn’t it?”
“Of course. I told myself not to let this happen, yet here I am, caring too much. Letting myself fall for him when there’s no future for us.”
“I don’t know why you thought you could avoid falling for him. Why, he’s just perfect for you, and you’re perfect for him.”
“How can you say that? We’re as different as can be.”
“Maybe you seem different, but that’s what makes things interesting. You’re two halves of a whole.”
“Clarissa, if I don’t go to L.A., I’ll be missing what might be the chance of a lifetime.”
“To work in a fancy salon out there.”
“Well, yes.”
“So you can do hair for rich people who are convinced they’re more important than the rest of us.”
“That’s rather cynical, isn’t it? I’m sure many of them are very nice.”
“Might be, but I doubt it. Scarlett, you’re not going to be their friend. You’ll be doing a job for them, and they’ll pay you and tip you just like everyone else, and when they leave, or when you go and do their hair and you leave, they’ll forget about you.” Clarissa came over and took her hands. “What I’m saying is that those people aren’t your friends. They’re not your family. They’ll never be close to you. That’s a fact of life.”
Scarlett felt tears and drew i
n a deep breath. “I’m not expecting them to be my friends. I just want to be recognized. I want to create. I want to be a part of that whole industry. It’s so exciting, Clarissa. Can’t you see that?”
“Yes, I can see that, but is being in an exciting place the most important thing in life? Does fame and fortune trump friends and family? I don’t think so, sweetie.”
Scarlett dropped her head between her hands and closed her eyes. “I’m so confused.”
“Do you love him that much?”
“I don’t know! I like him an awful lot. But I’ve never been in love before. How do I tell for certain?”
“Sweetie, I think you know, but you’re sure fighting hard not to.” Clarissa rubbed Scarlett’s back, then said, “I hate to heap more on you when you’ve got so much on your mind, but something happened today in Graham that I think you should know about.”
Scarlett’s head popped up. “What? Is it James? Is he okay?”
Clarissa smiled. “That’s how you know you’re in love.” She waved her hand. “But he’s fine. It’s about him, though. Some crazy old attorney from Graham, Milton Bastine, confronted James at a lunchtime speaking engagement.”
“What do you mean, confronted? As in assaulted?”
“No, just verbal stuff. The silly old geiser is jealous of James. He wants to run for the judgeship—the criminal court where James is serving. Apparently the fact that James was asked to sit in during the judge’s absence pushed him over the edge. He’s convinced that James is taking something away from him.”
“That’s irrational, unless he was promised something.”
“That old coot wasn’t promised a thing. You can’t ‘promise’ something like that, since to get the job, he’d have to run for office. Now, way back when, lots of under the table deals were made. But that was a long time ago. Even in small towns, those kinds of things get brought to light.”
“I can’t understand why he would blame James!”
Clarissa shrugged. “Apparently he thinks James is just as devious and underhanded as he is. He must believe James got the judge to ask him to sit in, in some scheme to take over.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“From a client friend of mine who was there. She told me it was quite heated. That Bastine even accused James of running around naked! And Scarlett, I know this is going to bother you, but you’re going to find out one way or another. The old coot specifically said he was running around with a redheaded floozy.”
“What! How would he know…Why would he say that?”
“I’m not sure. He must know that you and James are dating, but I don’t know how, since Bastine doesn’t live in Brody’s Crossing.”
“That’s creepy!”
“James called the police.”
“The police!” When Scarlett thought about what the man had said…Could he know something about Sunday morning at the ranch? Why else would he say that?
If she’d caused James any problems, she would feel so bad. James knew she was worried about their relationship affecting his status in the community, but he’d told her not to worry. He’d told her that they weren’t doing anything wrong.
She shouldn’t have taken off her clothes in the barn. Where was her sense?
“Don’t worry, hon. James will take care of it.”
How could he take care of rumors that were true?
SCARLETT TALKED TO JAMES by phone later in the afternoon, letting him know that the news was out about the lunchtime altercation. He was concerned, but not too much. Or so it seemed. Maybe he was being brave for her. Maybe the accusations really bothered him. She wanted to see him, to watch his face as he explained what had happened. Only then would she truly know how he was feeling.
She finished up her last appointment, a cut and style of Bobbie Jean Maxwell’s highlighted classic bob. She was a nice lady who advised Scarlett to give this little scandal time to blow over. She also said to let James handle everything. After all, it was his reputation being besmirched. But that was hard advice for Scarlett to follow. She wanted to do something to help, directly and dramatically.
Like punch Milton Bastine in the nose. Probably not a good idea.
Venetia returned from the bank, red-faced and stomping. “Is the weather getting worse?” Scarlett asked.
“No! It’s this damn storm of gossip about what happened in Graham. People who don’t even know you and James want to put their spin on the tale. Just now, someone asked me if you were a floozy! They wanted to know if you ran around naked! Can you imagine such nonsense?”
“No, I can honestly say I never thought I’d be called a nudist floozy.” Besides sounding horribly old-fashioned, “floozy” meant she used men to get what she wanted. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“I’ve been advised to do everything from turn the other cheek to march to Milton Bastine’s law office and demand an apology,” Scarlett said. “I have no idea what to do to help James. I’m not concerned about me.”
“We’re concerned about both of you,” Clarissa said, walking out of the back room, where she’d been washing a load of towels. “Personally, I like the idea of marching on the old coot’s office.”
“Yeah,” Venetia said, “too bad we don’t have a floozy union, or we could organize and strike.”
Clarissa stopped and rubbed her chin. “A floozy union. I like that.” She ran to the back and started opening cabinets. Venetia and Scarlett both followed her to see what she was up to.
She stood in front of the supplies for coloring hair. “Girls, I have an idea,” she said with an evil twinkle in her blue eyes.
JAMES WENT BY THE SALON. To his surprise, the lights were all on and Clarissa’s and Venetia’s cars were still there. “What’s up, ladies?” he asked as he let himself in the back door.
All three of the women looked guilty, even though they weren’t doing anything unusual. His brain was too tired at the moment to dissect their actions. All he wanted was a good meal, a quiet evening and a good night’s sleep with Scarlett by his side.
“Nothing! We’re just…taking inventory,” Clarissa announced. “Venetia and I were almost finished here, weren’t we, Scarlett.”
“I believe so.”
“Scarlett, would you like to come to my place for dinner?” James asked. “I really don’t feel like going out and answering any more questions.”
“Of course, but—”
“Don’t worry. We’ll finish up here,” Clarissa said.
“If you’re sure…”
“We’re sure. We have everything we need, right?”
“Yes, we do,” Venetia replied.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Clarissa told Scarlett. “And don’t forget our Christmas lunch and our little after-lunch excursion.”
“Of course. I’m ready.”
“We’ll be ready, too,” Clarissa said. “Now, you and James run along. I’ll lock up.”
Scarlett snagged her hoodie and followed him to the back door. “You’re sure?” she asked before they went outside.
“Yes!” Clarissa answered. “Now, have a good time.”
James opened the door for Scarlett, then drove the block and a half to his building. He parked in his usual spot out back and climbed the outside stairs, all the while thinking that the colorful pixie in front of him didn’t deserve such disrespect. People took one look at her bright red hair, colorful clothes and twinkling belly button ring, and assumed she was a little wild.
When they’d first met, he himself had made some assumptions about her. That she didn’t care what others thought. That she would give everyone a lot of attitude, no matter what the situation.
She wasn’t any of those things. Scarlett was sweet and vulnerable, funny and smart. He could spend a lot of years discovering all her nuances.
He placed his briefcase on the kitchen table, loosened his tie and sighed. “Would you like a drink?”
“Maybe a glass of wine, if you have some.”
&nb
sp; “Sure. Take a look at what I have,” he said, motioning toward the wine rack. “I’m going to change clothes and then I’ll start dinner.” He walked over, hugged her and whispered, “I missed you today.”
“I…I thought about you, too,” she admitted.
He changed into jeans and his UT sweatshirt, then walked back into the kitchen. Scarlett had found a CD she liked, and was struggling to open a bottle of pinot grigio.
“Would you like some help?”
“Sure. I don’t do this often.”
He took the bottle from her. “You’re not a big drinker.”
“No, not really. I’ve never liked the taste of liquor.”
“You don’t sleep around, either.” He inserted the corkscrew, pushed the arms down to raise the cork.
“No, I don’t.” She held out a glass.
“And you’re really sweet.” He poured her wine.
“What are you trying to say?”
James set the bottle on the counter and hugged Scarlett, kissing her temple. “Just making the point that no matter what anyone says about you, you’re a fine person. I think maybe you had a little problem with assigning blame. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. We’re going to place the blame where it should be—on Milton Bastine. I’m not sure what exactly pushed him over the edge, and maybe it’s not really important, but I intend to stop him from harassing either of us.”
“No one should mess with your career like this, as if they had the right to talk about you.”
“How about you? I don’t want you to feel the least little amount of guilt over what happened in my parent’s barn.”
“I can’t help but feel a little sorry that I…well, I took my clothes off. I’m the reason that woman was able to talk about us that way. But I’m working on it. I have a plan.”
“A plan. Yes…to make me feel better.” He hugged her again. “I’m all for goals and plans, except when they take you away from me.”
“I know.” She turned in his arms. “But we all must follow our destiny, right? You knew it was right to come back to Brody’s Crossing. If you hadn’t followed your dream to be an attorney in your hometown, I’m sure you would have felt disappointed.”
Texan for the Holidays Page 16
