Genny's Ballad: The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series, Book 5

by Becki Willis

  Instead of holding her in an embrace, he had caressed her with his entire body. But it made sense. When Cutter smiled his slow, sexy smile, he did so with his entire face. Apparently when he kissed, he did so with his entire body.

  “I’d give up apple turnovers,” he whispered, his lips still hovering near hers, “if I knew I could taste your kiss every day.”

  She tried out a smile. Her lips still tingled from his. “J-Just in case, I’ll make you a batch Monday morning.”

  “I’ll be there for breakfast.” He brushed a kiss onto her lips. “And lunch.” Another kiss, this one longer. “Maybe even supper.”

  Breathless, she replied, “I’ll be there.”

  “I’d better go,” he said. She heard the reluctance in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Lock the door.”

  “I will.”

  “Call me if you need anything. I can be here in minutes.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured, pulling away from her slowly, one inch at a time. Even that was a sensual experience.

  She walked him to the door, where they lingered for another kiss. He waited for her to lock and bolt the door before he sauntered out to his truck, whistling a satisfied tune.

  The rosy glow of the evening lasted until her phone rang, showing an unidentified caller in Chicago.

  ***

  A noise alerted her to the danger.

  Genesis awoke with a start, hearing a car door slam nearby. A bleary-eyed study of the alarm clock revealed the early morning hour. Two-o-five. Much too early for visitors.

  Genny lifted her mussed blond head from the pillow, cocking it to one side as she listened for more. A noisy bump. An unmistakable grunt.

  Someone was definitely outside.

  She sat up in bed and grabbed her phone, her fingers already poised on the buttons. Her heart tapped out a crazy tempo as her mind went blank. Whom should she call? Maddy? 9-1-1? Cutter?

  Without further hesitation, Genny scrolled down to his name and hit re-dial.

  “’Lo?” He answered on the first ring, his voice rusty with sleep.

  “Cutter?” She spoke in a loud whisper. “Someone is outside my house.”

  He came instantly awake. Genny heard movement on the other end of the line as he flung away the covers and departed from a squeaky mattress. “Don’t open the door until you hear my voice,” he instructed gruffly. “I’m on my way.”

  Ten seconds ticked by. Fifteen. Unable to just sit there and wait for potential danger to strike, Genny jumped from her bed and padded across the room in her bare feet. She moved into the hall cautiously, avoiding the squeaky spot just outside her bedroom door. The same board had been a tattletale for years, even back when she was a teenager.

  Shaking away unwanted memories of Tommy and that squeaky board, Genesis focused on the present. Now was not the time for distractions, or for wandering down Nostalgia Lane. Now was the time for action.

  She crept down the hall and entered the small living room. The room was dark as pitch, except for the pale light filtered through vintage wooden shutters. Sidestepping a chair and small side table, Genny sidled up to the windows facing the front of the house and peeked outside. The security light in the yard revealed nothing unusual. She moved along to the side windows for a different view.

  There, off to the left. Was that a faint glimmer of reflection? Was that movement? She thought she detected two distinct objects, moving subtly in the shadows. And what was that pounding noise? Was it coming from outside, or from within her chest? Genesis slapped a hand over her heart, willing it to quieten down. She was trying to concentrate here.

  The shadows shifted. Separated. Divide and conquer? Did that mean Pembrook had an accomplice? The thought sent her heart into another noisy round of clatter. She saw a flash of light at the edge of the yard, this one distinct. A car door, perhaps, as it opened and shut. That would explain the sudden flash of red. Brake lights.

  Lights from an approaching vehicle glinted off the chrome bumper, momentarily illuminating the vehicle as it darted away from her house. It was little more than glitter in the night, a streak that disappeared as quickly as a falling star.

  Genny sighed with relief, expecting to see Cutter’s big truck pull into her driveway. Instead, she watched as lights raced past her house in pursuit. Genny ran back to the front windows for a better view. All she saw was a streak of red as it disappeared round a curve.

  It seemed an eternity before the lights came again, bouncing across her front yard. Cutter jumped from his truck and bounded up to the door she had already flung open.

  “I told you not to open the door!” he chastised, even before his boot touched the first step.

  His deep scowl did not concern her. “I knew it was you. I was watching. Did you catch them?”

  “No.” He ran a frustrated hand through his dark blond hair, rumpling it even more than it already was. In his haste, he had not donned his customary cowboy hat.

  Cutter Montgomery looked good with bed head.

  Genesis turned away with deliberate nonchalance, determined not to notice. Her body hummed with the memory of his kiss. Her eyes kept straying to his rumbled shirt, the buttons not properly aligned. He had not taken the time to tuck his shirttail into his belt. The off-kilter sides revealed a half-zipped fly. Not that she dared to notice that. Noticing that could mean taking their relationship to a whole different level. Neither of them was ready for that.

  “I chased him all the way back to town, but I guess I lost him somewhere along the way,” he said in frustration. He followed her into the dark house without waiting for an invitation. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Watch your eyes,” she warned as she bent to switch on a lamp. The defused light was softer than that of the overhead fixture, something she was certain they could both appreciate at two in the morning.

  “I heard a noise,” she recalled. “A door slammed. It woke me up from a dead sleep. Someone was outside.”

  “Pembrook?”

  “I—I don’t think so,” she admitted. “I think there were two people.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “I don’t know, but they must have come into the yard. I heard a bump. And a grunt, like maybe they ran into something.” She frowned. “Whoever it was would make a terrible thief. They weren’t very stealthy.”

  “Maybe they were drunk,” Cutter offered. “I’ll take a look around outside.”

  “Be careful!”

  He gave her a lop-sided grin. “They’re long gone by now, Genny. You stay here while I check it out.”

  He was gone long enough to circle the perimeter of her modest home. Genesis curled up in a chair while she waited, but flew out of it when he opened the door.

  “Did you see anything? What is that in your hand?”

  “I found this lighter around back.”

  Her voice rose with a note of mild panic. “They were trying to start a fire?”

  “I don’t know. Does the dandy smoke?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe they were using it for light. Maybe they were smoking.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s one of yours.”

  Genny shook her blond head, her own short locks in disarray. “I don’t have one like that.”

  Cutter shook the small plastic casing, holding it up toward the light for inspection. “Doesn’t matter,” he declared. “It’s empty.”

  She sighed with relief, until a new worry struck her. “Did they try to get in?”

  “Not that I could tell. I didn’t see any footprints, just some disturbed grass around the flowerbeds. There was an overturned bucket, so maybe that’s what you heard.”

  “Probably,” she murmured. She ran her hands up and down her arms, warding off a sudden chill in the air.

  “Do you want me to call this in?” he offered.

  “And say what? That a car stopped out front and woke me up? It wouldn’t do any good,” she admitted in fru
stration.

  “It might make you feel better.”

  “What could the police do that you haven’t already done?” Resigned, Genny shook her head. “I’m sorry I drug you out of bed for nothing, Cutter.”

  “It wasn’t ‘nothing.’ Someone was definitely outside. I followed them, remember?”

  “But they’re gone now, and we both need to get some sleep. Maybe we can still salvage what’s left of the night.”

  He looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” she lied. “I probably over-reacted. Maybe it was just someone stopped along the road. They slammed the car door, so they obviously weren’t trying to sneak up on me. Maybe it was a cat I heard. And there’s no telling how long that lighter has been out there.”

  Cutter looked down at the lighter he held. It showed no signs of being out in the elements. The metal igniter was shiny and untarnished, the plastic housing still vivid with color. Yet he pretended to go along with her theories, if only to ease her mind.

  “You’re probably right. I’m sure it was nothing.”

  Genny faked a yawn. “I’ll be all groggy in the morning.”

  Cutter flashed a smile. “Okay, I can take a hint.”

  Genesis followed him to the door, where he looked down at her with lingering doubt. “You’re sure you’re okay? I can hang around for a while, if you like.”

  “I’m fine, Cutter, really I am. I’m sorry I got you out in the middle of the night.”

  “I’m a fireman. Comes with the territory.”

  “Yes, but it shouldn’t include crazy old women who panic every time they hear things go bump in the night.”

  “One, you’re not crazy. Two, you’re not old. And three, you’re not the type to panic.” He cupped his hand around her neck. “Does the dandy make you this nervous?”

  She was loathe to admit it, but there was no escaping the truth. “Yes.”

  Cutter tensed as he drew in a sharp breath. There was another truth Genny had to face. “But I don’t think it was him tonight. I—I get a different vibe this time.”

  “What’s the difference this time?”

  She squirmed under his scrutiny. “I’ve had a few calls lately,” she admitted. “I answer, but no one’s ever there.”

  He was instantly concerned. “How long has this been happening, Genny?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. A little while.”

  “How long?”

  She pushed her toe along the grooves of a wooden plank, following the movement with her gaze. “A few weeks.”

  “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “Genny...”

  She stopped him before he could give her a lecture. “You know how unreliable our telephones are. At first, I thought it was just a bad connection.”

  “At first,” he repeated flatly. “So what made you change your mind?”

  She worried the edges of her hair, torturing one blond tendril as she twisted it round and round her finger. “Not even our service is that spotty,” she admitted.

  “Why haven’t you mentioned this before now, Genny!” he exploded. He made it a statement, more than a question.

  “Because their number doesn’t show up on caller I.D. or *69. They never say anything, so they’ve never made a threat. All they do is call and hang up.”

  “It’s harassment, Genny.”

  She released a sigh. “It’s bothersome, that’s for sure.”

  “Maybe I should call this in...”

  “No, really, please don’t. It’s not worth reporting. I’m sorry now that I even called you.”

  “Don’t be. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, Genny. I’ll come, no matter how late it is.” His hazel eyes were sincere.

  Genny laid her hand onto his arm. “I know. And thank you, Cutter. I appreciate that.”

  His eyes slipped to the outfit she wore. Pale pink, with leopard-print words ‘Purr-fection in Pink’ that matched her spotted shorts. His eyes caressed the letters scrawled across her chest. His smile turned molten as he drawled, “It’s purr-fectly fine, Genny darlin’.”

  A smile like that was dangerous. She had forgotten how skimpily she was dressed. Forgotten about his half-zipped jeans. Genny rolled her eyes, fighting off a sense of panic and a wild blush. She pushed him hastily out the door.

  “Good night, Cutter.”

  He brushed a kiss across her lips. “Night. Lock your doors,” he added needlessly.

  Genny made sure the deadbolt fastened. She re-checked three times, just to be certain.

  No matter what she told Cutter, she knew it had not been a cat outside her house tonight. She went back to bed, but she did not sleep another wink.

  Chapter Eight

  The Centennial Homecoming Celebration kicked off the next day, a tribute to the towns’ storied pasts.

  At the turn of the twentieth century, Bertram Randolph was one of the wealthiest men in the entire Brazos Valley. As the undisputed Cotton King in all of central Texas, he owned thousands of acres of prime farmland in River County. His plantation played such a vital role in the industry that the Trinity and Brazos Railway —soon known as the Boll Weevil— laid a set of tracks running strategically alongside his cotton gin.

  During the heyday of cotton, the train made multiple daily stops at the Randolph depot. The frequent stops were necessary during ginning season to transport the crop to market; other times, the stops were necessary to fit the whim of Randolph’s two daughters.

  Naomi and Juliet Randolph were the epitome of the spoiled Southern belle. When Bertram’s wife died at an early age and left him with two young girls to raise, he did the only thing he knew to do: he indulged them. No matter the whim, no matter the cost, the cotton baron gave his beloved daughters anything they wanted.

  The one thing he could not provide for them, however, was camaraderie. Even as toddlers, the two girls were bitter rivals. As the years progressed, so did their sense of competition. The squabbles escalated until finally Bertram Randolph had enough.

  His solution was to give each daughter her own namesake town. He sectioned off a large plat of land on either side of the railroad and built each daughter her own house, mirror images of one another. A common area was to remain between the towns for shared essentials. The rest could be developed at will, resulting in towns that were as different and as opinionated as their namesakes were.

  Before his death, Randolph gave the bulk of his farmland to his oldest and most trusted employee, Andrew deCordova. With the massive plantation now divided into three entities and with their father’s health quickly declining, it was the perfect time for the sisters to make peace.

  But the arrival of a private physician, hired to care for Bertram in his last days, made reconciliation between the sisters forever impossible. Both women promptly fell in love with Darwin Blakely, but the handsome young doctor could not choose between them.

  In the end, just before he was killed in a freak accident, the doctor gave them both a part of himself. To Juliet, he gave his name; to Naomi, he gave a daughter. Thus the circle of competition and bitterness continued, as did the legacy of the towns.

  By the time both sisters died in the 1980’s, their towns had grown and prospered. A common area still existed between the towns, as outlined in each town’s charter. The old cotton gin was now home to The Sisters Volunteer Fire Department. Just across the tracks, and easily accessible by a footbridge, the old Depot housed The Sisters Police Department and tiny jail. The shared deep water well sported a modern day tower, and the school had long since grown and moved out across the new highway, to property donated by the deCordova Ranch.

  With no children of her own, Juliet Blakely left her estate to her cook’s daughter, Bertha Hamilton Cessna, better known as Granny Bert. Naomi’s only child, a daughter she named Love, died a few years after marrying Hugh Redmond, so her children now controlled the town. And with old prejudices remaining, there w
ere some residents who stubbornly carried on the grudge of the feuding sisters, pledging their allegiance either to the Cessna family or to the Redmonds.

  For the celebration, however, most tried to put the petty rivalry aside. The towns were decked out in their finery, with patriotic banners and buntings sprawled across dozens of homes and businesses throughout the sistering cities. The site of the original school had long since been rededicated as a parade grounds, complete with a grandstand. It was perfect for occasions such as the Centennial Celebration, as was the empty wing of the cotton-gin-turned-fire-station. It offered plenty of space for Saturday night’s community-wide Homecoming Dance.

  Festivities began on Sunday with the all-day fishing tournament. After the fish were weighed and recorded, mayors from both towns gave welcoming speeches and the official winners were announced on stage. A live auction followed, and after that, music by local church choirs. All proceeds benefited the community’s Homecoming Fund, insuring future celebrations for years to come.

  With the Home Again cameras on scene to document the festivities, spirits were high and the turnout was better than expected. People were dressed in their finest casual wear, which in The Sisters consisted primarily of starched jeans, cowboy boots and hats, pearl snap shirts, and plenty of bling.

  Genny was an integral part of the evening, helping with numerous matters behind-stage. As chairman of the Entertainment Committee for the Chamber of Commerce, she discovered most every aspect of the annual celebration fell under ‘entertainment.’

  “Take a breather,” Madison insisted, thrusting a cold bottle of water into her friend’s hand.

  Granny Bert seconded the motion. “You’ve been running around here like a chicken with your head cut off. Take a load off, girl.”

  “Does that mic sound okay to you? It seems to me it has a bit of a ring,” Genny worried.

  “That’s just Brewster’s voice,” Granny Bert harrumphed. “His whiny little voice always grates on nerves.”

  “Your predecessor’s speech isn’t nearly as good as yours was,” Genny said. “You have a gift.”