Ladd Fortune

by Dianne Venetta

  Nick chuckled and Malcolm wondered again, was everything a feud in these parts? It was pie. Wouldn’t she overlook the flavor? As it stood, he was empty-handed. In his world, showing up to a party without a hostess gift translated to poor manners. But a newbie to these parts, he wasn’t about to argue. Nick had been a trusted ally for near twenty years. If his woman said leave the pie, Malcolm would leave the pie.

  The trio reached the house, cruising around back to where the action was in full swing. With most of the guests dressed in jeans and boots, Malcolm felt somewhat out of place in white linen shorts and navy silk T-shirt, but he didn’t own any jeans and boots. Hiking boots for scouting properties, yes, but not the cowboy variety. Those were Nick’s department. As expected, there was a grill in the corner loaded to the brim with burgers and dogs, a steady billow of smoke rising into the blue sky above. Malcolm picked up the scent of a smoker, too, but didn’t see one. There was a live band beyond the grill, a group of middle-aged men belting out a lively tune he didn’t recognize. But then again, country music wasn’t his norm. He preferred jazz, rock, and the occasional hip hop.

  Closer to the house was a long table of food, draped with a classic red and white calico print cloth, laden with plates and bowls heaped with food. As he approached, Malcolm recorded the menu to memory: corn on the cob, coleslaw, biscuits, fried chicken, fried something he didn’t recognize, mashed potatoes, cornbread, and greens of some sort. They looked like sautéed spinach, but he’d bet they were something else. Southerners weren’t known for their penchant for spinach. His stomach growled. It all looked good. But as hungry as he was, there was something more important on his mind. He surveyed the people milling about the grill, the house, the band, searching for sign of Lacy.

  Delaney paused. “Hungry?”

  “Famished,” Nick replied.

  “Not yet,” Malcolm lied.

  “Well, I’m starving,” Nick said. “Mind if we leave and grab a bite to eat?”

  “You go ahead.” Malcolm walked a few steps with them and caught sight of Lacy. His insides warmed. Decked out in fitted red tank and white miniskirt—a very short miniskirt—Lacy kicked up her black booted heels as she moved about the dance floor. He smiled, tapping Nick in passing. “I’ll catch up with you kids later.”

  Nick followed Malcolm’s line of vision and grinned. “You do that.”

  As Nick and Delaney headed for the food table, Malcolm ventured toward the dance floor, more designated section of yard than floor. Off to one side of the band, dozens of men and women danced in rows, except for Lacy. She was one of the coupled dancers being twirled about by some nondescript man.

  Of course she was. The band ended the song and immediately picked up with a country tune he did know. Cotton-Eyed Joe. The dancers instantly formed several lines. Lacy’s dance partner swept her into his arms and spun her around. Even if she’d wanted to line dance, the guy probably couldn’t keep his hands off her. That’s the way it would be for Malcolm if he were out on the dance floor with her.

  As the band played, the fiddler took center stage, swinging his body back and forth as his hand whipped bow over strings. Dancers whooped and hollered and all stepped in unison, their movements quick and agile, even the oldest among not missing a beat. Where did you come from, where did you go. Where did you come from, Cotton-eyed Joe? If it hadn’t been...

  Lacy spotted him and smiled mid-twirl. Malcolm wondered at her dance partner. A man of medium build, brown hair, nothing special, he could be someone from her past. Could also be someone new. Lacy was the kind of woman who attracted men like bees to honey. The man led Lacy around with visible skill, his focus completely tied up in her. Malcolm smiled. Sorry to break it to you pal, but that one’s taken—though the two were certainly enjoying themselves, Lacy and her partner. But it was hard not to with such a catchy, upbeat tune. Watching the show, Malcolm was struck by the high spirits of the crowd. Was there a way he and Nick could incorporate the music into the hotel? Not their average version of entertainment, that’s for sure, but it certainly fit the region. And staying authentic to the region was one of Harris Hotels’ trademarks.

  His eyes was his tools and his smile was his gun, but all he had come for was having some fun. Dipping and swaying, rocking to the music, Lacy seemed all the more animated now that Malcolm was watching her. A swell of pleasure unfurled inside him. “Enjoy it while you can, darlin’...” he drawled quietly to himself. Malcolm Ward was about to cut in.

  Lacy continued to look his way, despite her partner whooping and shouting. A move that told Malcolm there would be no need to cut in—she’d find her way to him eventually. Better to let the bird fly home than chase her around the yard and back.

  The song ended and Lacy’s partner lifted her from the ground. Admiring the view as she kicked her boots up behind her, Malcolm waited. The band rolled into another twangy tune, this one just as lively as the last but completely unfamiliar to Malcolm. After a moment of chit-chat between Lacy and the man, it appeared she was making her excuses to come see him.

  Malcolm chuckled at the crestfallen look on the man’s face. Clearly he wasn’t ready for the love fest to be over. But Lacy was headed his way and that’s all Malcolm cared about.

  Trotting over, Lacy landed before him and gaily greeted, “Hi, Malcolm!”

  “Hi, Lacy.” He slid his gaze up and down her then slung it toward the band. “Looks like you were having fun out there.”

  “Oh, I was. I love to dance!”

  “I remember.”

  A fleeting confusion brushed the sunshine from her features but didn’t linger. “Do you like to dance?”

  “I do, but I’m afraid I couldn’t keep up with this crowd.” She giggled. “Your partner looked like he knew a thing or two about the dance floor.”

  “Who, Calvin?”

  Malcolm shrugged. “He and old friend?”

  Lacy smiled. “Calvin Foster and I grew up together. He’s a year older than me, but our families have known each other forever.”

  “Ah...” he replied, relieved to know there was one less hurdle to getting next to the pixie standing before him.

  “I didn’t know you were coming today,” she said.

  “Wouldn’t miss it. From what I hear, this is the only place to be today.”

  “Oh, it is, it is,” she chirped. “Ashley has always thrown the best parties.” Lacy glanced around and she frowned. “Did you come with Delaney?”

  Not wanting anything to dampen Lacy’s mood, he nodded. “But I ditched them right quick,” he teased. “I wanted to see you.”

  She rewarded him with a bashful smile. “Oh, Malcolm, don’t be silly.” Sliding shiny black curls behind her ear, she scanned the party grounds. “I know Delaney doesn’t much want to see me.”

  Delivered as a casual observation, Malcolm detected something melancholy in her statement. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’d attribute it more to her current circumstances. She has a lot on her mind at the moment.”

  “Jeremiah,” Lacy said flatly.

  Malcolm arched a brow. “Among other things, yes.”

  Lacy flashed a hot glance. “Well she doesn’t have to worry. He’s not here—wouldn’t dare set the first foot on Ashley’s property.”

  Malcolm didn’t expect him to be. “So how’s your friend Loretta?” he asked. “Ever learn what she and the boy were up to?”

  “No. We’re friends in Atlanta but other than Friday, I haven’t seen her.”

  “Are you having a good time?”

  She tipped her chin upward and dished out a small pout. “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “I seem to be persona non great around here.”

  “You mean grata.”

  A question gathered in her eyes. “Huh?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  She dismissed him with a wave. “Same thing.”

  Malcolm noticed her staring across the crowd and he followed her gaze. On the opposite side of t
he food table, an attractive brunette strolled to a stop. As she skimmed the crowd, she didn’t appear happy to be here. More tense, edgy than a Memorial Day picnic warranted. Conservatively dressed in white T-shirt and jeans, a red scarf tied at her waist in lieu of belt, she looked familiar. “Something interesting?”

  “No,” she snapped, but her stare turned glower.

  “If eyes were daggers, someone would be dead right about now.” Lacy swung a petulant gaze his way, as if she were about to object. Instead, she smacked her beautiful, glossy red lips closed. Suddenly struck by the resemblance, Malcolm slipped her a knowing gaze. “Your sister, I presume?”

  She turned, mouth agape. “How did you know?”

  He glanced back in the direction Lacy had been staring and commented, “She’s the only other woman here with black hair and memorable blue eyes.”

  “There’s nothing memorable about Annie.” She swiped him with a foul look. “She’s mean. Pure hate.”

  From what Malcolm understood, she had good reason. But bringing that up with the beautiful young woman before him was not going to happen. “How about I get you something to eat?” he asked.

  “No, thank you,” she replied, absorbed by her sister’s presence.

  Getting nowhere fast, Malcolm decided to switch tactics. After all, he was here for information, and of course, the company of a beautiful woman. “Have you talked to Jeremiah since he’s been back in town?”

  “No,” she snipped. “And I don’t intend to, either.” Her expression abruptly changed, dulling the point of hate to a blunt, prurient curiosity. Malcolm checked the source and saw Lacy’s dance partner stop and embrace her sister.

  Suddenly, Lacy kicked into motion. In stunned silence, Malcolm watched her strut across the lawn, smoothly threading her way through clusters of people until she landed front and center between the man and her sister in a swan dive of sorts. Her body language was fluid, easy, resembling none of the tense discomfort he had witnessed only moments ago. Malcolm rubbed his chin. He had to hand it to her, she made an amazing transformation. Which peaked his curiosity. Why did she find this man so interesting? Was it the fact he was talking to her sister? Determined to find out, he made his way closer.

  Lacy had become animated, coy. She was standing near the man, touching his arm every so often in what Malcolm recognized as full flirtation mode. Longing stirred. She was laying it on thick, and where the man should be enthralled with the attention, he wasn’t. Oddly, he was more interested in her sister at the moment. Intrigued by the turn of events, Malcolm shifted his weight, continuing to stare.

  Malcolm would entertain Lacy over her sister all day long. Granted both were attractive, but Lacy’s brand of energy was exciting, stimulating. He’d take her for a swing on the dance floor if she wanted, run his hands up and down the low sway of her back, the round of her bottom. He’d hold her close, pressing her soft curves against him. Oh, he’d keep Lacy close and then some. But not this fellow. In what appeared to be a surprise to Lacy, the man and her sister excused themselves and headed for the dance floor. Engrossed by the state of affairs, Malcolm observed Lacy’s reaction with amusement. When she realized the man had dumped her for her sister, steam blew out her ears. Malcolm smiled. There, there, sweetheart. Come cry on my shoulder.

  “Where’s your lady friend?”

  Nick’s voice startled Malcolm. “She’s playing a game of cat and mouse,” he replied, amused by the affair.

  Standing by his side, Nick glanced in her direction. “Did you have a chance to speak with her?”

  “I did, but with no measurable results.”

  Nick smiled, a spark firing in the black of his eyes. “You’re losing your touch, Mal.”

  “I’m just getting started.”

  “Listen,” Nick said, lowering his voice. “It looks like we may have another problem.”

  “I’m listening,” Malcolm said, watching in dismay as Lacy headed indoors. Was she leaving?

  “Travis and Troy are on the outs. In fact, Troy is sporting a shiner.”

  The names snagged Malcolm back to Nick, pulling his gaze from the home’s back door where Lacy had entered. “What?”

  “They’re at odds right now, but I’m not clear on the reason.”

  “Could it have anything to do with Troy playing footsies with Jeremiah’s girlfriend?”

  “That’s what I’m concerned about.”

  “Well, you know I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Neither do I.” Nick glanced around them. No one was paying any attention to Delaney’s new invitees, two strangers in a circle of hometown friends and relatives. “Do you think the woman is trying to get information from the kid?”

  “I absolutely think she is, and she’s going about it the right way.”

  Nick raked a hand through his hair. “The boy may know about Ernie. And if he does, there’s no reason to believe he wouldn’t share it with a woman asking the right questions.”

  “Trust me, Nick. This lady doesn’t even have to ask. She’ll whisper in his ear and he’ll bark like a dog.”

  Nick nodded with a smirk. “Don’t we all?”

  At the approach of Delaney and Felicity, the men quieted. Delaney, carrying a plate piled with barbecue pulled pork, handed it to Nick. “This should hold you over for a while.”

  “God, I love you,” he said to her.

  The comment marshaled a wry smile to her mouth. “You’re easy.”

  “I know.” He winked. “Lucky for you.”

  “Though one more serving of that and you’ll be splayed out on the couch for the duration.”

  “Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.”

  Delaney grunted in response. In the few short weeks Malcolm had known her, he had been surprised by her domestic inclinations. To meet her outside of her family, you’d think Delaney couldn’t locate the first pot or pan, let alone know what to do with them. But he’d learned otherwise. The woman could cook like nobody’s business and seemed to enjoy waiting on Nick and Felicity.

  “You don’t look like you’re having fun, Felicity,” Malcolm said, reflecting on the dull look in otherwise bright features. Fair-skinned, freckle-faced, the teen was a pretty girl, reminding him of a waif model he knew in Los Angeles.

  “I’m good.” She gave a quick nod, brushed fine strands of strawberry blonde hair behind an ear. “I’m worried about Travis and Troy.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re mad at each other.”

  “Is that unusual?” He glanced to Nick and Delaney as he said, “I don’t know about them, but my early days with my brother were loaded with fights.”

  “Oh, they fight, but usually it’s no big deal. They’ve never been to the point where they’re not speaking to each other.”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Delaney said and rubbed her daughter’s back. “They’ll be fine. It’s just a rough patch of trouble, but they’ll get over it.”

  Malcolm glanced at Nick and asked for silent permission to broach the subject of Troy and Loretta. Nick cocked his head. Why not?

  “I wonder if it has anything to do with the woman I saw Troy with the other night,” Malcolm offered, “over at Whiskey Joe’s?”

  “Whiskey Joe’s?” Felicity asked, surprised by the mention of the local lounge.

  Malcolm nodded. “He was there with an older blonde. They seemed kinda friendly.”

  Shock would have been a mild description for the girl’s reaction. He flicked a glance toward her mother. Did she not know that a teenage boy had desires?

  “I don’t know who it could be...” Felicity said, absorbed by the revelation.

  “I heard it was Jeremiah’s girlfriend,” Malcolm said and braced himself for the fireworks.

  Felicity freaked, spots of freckles reddening against her skin. “What?”

  Delaney gawked. “Jeremiah’s girlfriend?”

  Nick stood passive while Malcolm elaborated, “That’s what I understand.” He looked between the women. “
Any reason why those two would know each other?”

  “None,” Delaney remarked. “Except one.” She turned slowly to her daughter and lightly grasped her arm. “Felicity,” she said, urging the girl to look into her face. She did so, but it was clear she feared what came next. “Did you tell Travis and Troy about Ernie? About him being sick?”

  Felicity’s lips began to quiver.

  “We need to know. It’s important,” Delaney said gently but sternly.

  The girl went pale. “I did.”

  At the admission, Malcolm, Nick and Delaney stilled.

  “Is that a problem?” she cried, comprehending that somehow she may have thrown the match into the tinder box.

  Chapter Nine

  Sitting alone on the front porch, Casey Owens could hear the band banging out an old country song, probably packing the dance floor with old people. The songs they played were ancient and definitely not her thing. She preferred contemporary music and not the dancing kind. On the front porch, the smell of smoke didn’t coat her clothes and skin. How people stood next to the grill swamped by gray smoke without plugging their noses was beyond her. It was too much—and she liked hamburgers! But smoke saturated clothing was not her idea of a good time. She was only here because she had to be.

  As she nursed a tall glass of iced tea, Casey’s thoughts went to Troy, Travis and Felicity. As usual, Travis and Felicity were stuck together like two pigs at a trough. Normally Troy would be right there with them, but for some reason he kept his distance from the pair today—which was weird. He even boasted a black eye, something Casey had the sneaking suspicion Travis might have had something to do with. That part wasn’t so weird. Those two scrapped all the time, but mostly for play, usually started by Troy. Had something changed between them?

  Pondering the matter, Casey pulled a slow sip from her drink, the liquid cold, but the tea and ice running together in a bland mess of taste. She set the glass on the floor beside her rocker, tucking it out of the way of her chair. Pulling her legs into a fold beneath her, Casey peered out over the heap of cars and wondered how much longer she had to stay. Her mom would have a fit if she left early. Said it would be a personal insult to Miss Ashley if they didn’t stay for at least a few hours. Casey didn’t see how it would matter one way or the other. Her godmother was so busy running back and forth between the kitchen and the grill, where Mr. Fulmer kept hollering like a chicken with his head cut off. Ashley, fetch me some more butter! Ashley, we need more cheese out here! Ashley, where in tarnation is my spatula?