Madison came over and linked her arm with hers. Her vibrant red hair proclaimed her Irish heritage, and her lilt made her words sound musical. “Because, dear girl, I asked Terrence to make sure the boys knew that you’d been descended upon by the women of the family while they were off being doctors.”
“They were up and gone early this morning. I made them breakfast, and they told me all about what they’d be up to on their first official day as two of the town’s doctors.”
“Did they ask you your plans for the day?” Grandmother Chelsea asked.
Pamela felt her face heat slightly. “No, they just told me to relax and not to work too hard.”
They all entered the house. Pamela invited the women to sit in the dining room. The three younger women pitched in to help her, and together, they made quick work of bringing out the wonderful array of food everyone had brought.
Pamela really liked Joan and Samantha, too. Joan was currently a stay-at-home mom. Her husband, Howard, was a mechanic and had a garage at the north end of town. A bit shy, she confessed that Howard had offered to stay home with their son, Gordon, so she could attend this get-together.
Samantha Kendall wasn’t a shy woman. But then, she had three husbands! On her way to becoming a lawyer, with a full-time position awaiting her with Kendall Partners, Samantha Kendall didn’t act entitled. She’d told Pamela earlier that she might not have to worry about finding a job in the future, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t work just as hard as any other law student. Harder, actually, she’d admitted. Samantha didn’t have to explain that last bit at all.
As a woman with a position in the field of medicine, Pamela knew all about the double standard. Women were expected to do twice as much and were often paid half as much as men.
“The biggest blessing—aside from the prospect of spending my career side by side with my husbands—is that there is no double standard in Lusty,” Samantha had confided. “Well, except perhaps in one small area.”
Three generations of women sat around Pamela’s large dining table. The grandmothers—and they were called Grandmother by every woman there except Kate and Miranda—sat at the head and the foot of the table. Chelsea Benedict Jessop-Kendall and Madeline Kennedy Benedict treated each other as dear sisters. They were, in fact, sisters-in-law since Chelsea was the sister of Grandmother Mattie’s husbands, Charles and Samuel. Miranda Kendall was Chelsea’s daughter-in-law, just as Kate was Mattie’s.
As they ate, Kate told the tale of arriving in Lusty in 1942, a major in the Army Nurse Corps, brought here by the original grandmothers of Lusty—Sarah Carmichael Benedict and Amanda Jessop-Kendall. Miranda arrived shortly after Kate, choosing to live in Lusty with her in-laws while her husbands, naval officers both, were off to do their duty. The other women of their generation present, Maria Sanchez Jessop, Pam’s mother-in-law, was born in Lusty while Madison Murphy Jessop came to town quite a few years later, in 1949. While it was clear Kate and Miranda were very close, Pamela could see nothing but affection between all of the women.
She, Bernice, Joan, and Samantha were the representatives of what Pamela thought of as the younger generation. But truly, all the women around her were vibrant, beautiful women. There was laughter and happy chatter as they ate lunch, with several stories told of past experiences. But something had been on her mind since just before lunch. Now that they were sitting and enjoying glasses of tea and nibbling on sweets, she decided to ask.
“Madison, why would Adam and James be squirming at the thought of this gathering?”
“Well, now, it’s true that our husbands all treat us with great regard and respect and enjoy nothing more than pampering us.”
“They do indeed,” Maria said. “However, they all seem to get a wee bit nervous when we’re all together like this, on our own.”
“You’d think they’d all have learned their lessons long ago,” Chelsea said.
“At the very least they should have listened to the lessons passed down to them by our fathers and fathers-in-law,” Mattie said. “Didn’t Sarah stand her ground when that blackguard, Tyrone Maddox, tried to have her murdered? And didn’t Amanda turn the tables on that villain, Jonathan Marley, when he grabbed her at the Waco train station?”
“And with no less than Bat Masterson and Wyatt Earp, along with her beloved Adam Kendall, Texas Ranger, right there to witness it?” Chelsea said. Both elderly women appeared incensed.
Pamela made a note to ask about that Waco train station incident later. It sounded exciting.
“The thing is, sweet girl,” Kate said, “that our men acknowledge that we’re all women of intelligence and strength and capable of doing practically anything.”
“They just cringe when we do it,” Miranda said.
Since all the women were nodding their heads, Pamela decided that this was a serious matter.
“We try not to fuss after them too much about it.” Maria looked around the table then focused on Pamela. “Because, you see, we understand that where their fussing comes from is the same place from which the pampering sprouts.”
“And it is God’s own truth that, while men like to claim we’re delicate, ’tis they who are in need of a special care.” Madison turned to Kate.
“A man’s ego is a delicate thing, and the one thing we, as their wives, must strive not to bruise. They may know, intellectually, that we’re capable of handling ourselves. After all, they’ve all taken the time to see to it we know how to handle guns and have also given us some basic self-defense lessons. As they’ve done for their sons and daughters, as well. But emotionally, they have a great need to protect us.”
Pamela sat back and looked around the table. “I think I know what you’re all saying. I saw a similar protective attitude with my father. Unfortunately, that led him to do something that wasn’t, in the end, the best idea.”
“Oh, that’s men to a T,” Grandmother Mattie said. “Usually, that need will make our men do things that they often rue. It’s our job to gently let them know we appreciate their care, even if we don’t always need it. That we are thinking, logical beings and we will stand with them, not cower behind them.”
“I understand.” Pamela looked at Grandmother Chelsea. “You were irked that Adam and James didn’t think to ask me what my plans were for the day. Just as you were annoyed they didn’t ask me how I felt about…” Oh, boy. In front of Maria and Grandmother Chelsea was one thing. But then, just then, Pamela got her very first lesson in what family meant in Lusty.
“You can tell us anything, cousin,” Samantha said.
“We’re family.” Bernice’s assertion was spoken in the same confident tone Samantha had used.
She turned her gaze to Maria and then Grandmother Chelsea. Both women smiled and nodded, letting her know they were in agreement.
“All right, then, I will. Grandmother Chelsea was annoyed that Adam and James didn’t ask me how I felt about having the commitment ceremony right away. And I think they didn’t because they were feeling guilty. I think they believe they tricked me into marriage.”
“Oh, now that’s a story we have to hear,” Kate Benedict said.
“It is, indeed, a story you should all hear,” Maria said.
“Because, you see, there’s action needed.” Grandmother Chelsea sat straighter in her chair and nodded firmly. “And I believe it will take all of us, working together, to figure out what needs doing to set things right.”
* * * *
“Scooter, tell me again why we’re not in Tulsa or even Oklahoma City? Why this little town so close to the Texas border?”
After so many years spent together, Scooter didn’t really have to try very hard to be patient with Gary. He knew once his partner fully understood the plan, once he’d questioned every facet, once he’d scoped out every detail, then he’d be on board, one hundred percent. It was just a matter of Gary’s getting to that point.
“Look, Durant is a good-sized city—more than ten thousand people. This is the nicest apar
tment we’ve ever had, and it costs less than a quarter of what we paid in New York. The library has everything we need in order for us to learn about the area and the people. And, because it is a smaller city, the cops here are less likely to be getting notices from New York or Boston or any other city we’ve been active in. In the past, we’ve always hit major urban centers. We’re changing up our ‘M.O.,’ as the cops call it. We’ve got a fresh slate here, my friend. A brand-new start. No one has heard of the Genesis Fund.” Scooter paused and thought for a moment. “We’ll maybe come up with an entirely new investment product. We’ll have to think on that some. But the main thing is we don’t have any of our past baggage here. Like I said, a fresh start.”
“Do you know what else we don’t have? Contacts. When the time comes, we need at least three people to help us with the testimonials.”
Gary had a point. “You’re right, we don’t have any contacts yet. But it won’t take long for us to get everything set up. Another few weeks to get a good feel for the area and to find a few candidates who won’t mind taking some money to answer phone calls here. We’ll keep our cover with them, tell them we’re setting up a sales office for a new, national company. We’ll contact the phone company, give the usual spiel, and give them a large enough deposit that they won’t even question our mission to stake out new territory.”
Gary still looked worried, though Scooter thought the man was beginning to enjoy the challenge of starting all over again.
“Something else has been bothering you the last day or so. Why not just spit it out?”
“Okay. I was wondering. Do you think this is a safe place for us? On the way to the library yesterday, I saw a sign on one of the buildings. It said it was the offices of ‘the Headquarters of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma.’ While you were going through the city directory, I looked that up. The Choctaw Nation is an Indian tribe, Scooter! Durant is a city of the Choctaw Nation. I thought Oklahoma was part of the United States!”
“Sometimes I worry about you, Gary. I really do. Of course, this is still the United States. And there’s no difference between the Choctaw people and us except the way our great-greats lived and our history. Yes, we are perfectly safe here.”
Gary sighed. “I know I’m being a pain, and I swear, I don’t mean to be.”
“No, you’re not a pain. You just need to know every inch of this new plan, this new territory. That’s how you’ve always been, at least since I’ve known you, and that’s going a long way back. Once you nail it all down in your mind, I know you’ll be good to go.”
“This city does have a long history, but it has a lot of building going on. A lot of…growth. That has to reflect money being available to be invested, right?”
“It does, indeed. I’ve been scoping out a few names. I’ve got a list of candidates—most of them are widows, of both genders. There’re a couple of people our age, too. They’ve got money and show up in the papers for living the life of playboys. One in particular, his parents have threatened to cut him off. Maybe he’d be interested in a way to make his own fortune.”
“I can work with that. And with the widows, too. The secret is finding out what it is they want. That’s the secret right there, you know? A lot of people look good on the outside, they look successful and all, but on the inside, they’re lonely. And they want someone to listen to them. To listen and understand and then to help them get what they need, what they want.”
Gary had that look in his eyes, one that told Scooter he was already submersing himself in his “character.” Scooter wouldn’t be surprised if that had been his pal’s coping tool as soon as he was old enough to understand he needed one.
I only scam people because it’s easy and I’m lazy. Gary scams because playing the con lets the creative part of him be free. He can be anyone doing anything, a man of his own creation. Scooter shook his head. He didn’t often think things like that. But he and Gary had been partners for a long time, now. When you spend more than a couple of decades with someone, surviving with them, living with them, working with them, the experience sinks into your head.
At least it had sunk into Scooter’s.
“Okay, what do we do next, Scooter?”
“I say we head out to lunch. Let’s pick a nice little restaurant—not too rich but not a burger joint. We’ll be the newly arrived salesmen from ‘out east.’ We’ll make positive comments about how nice this city is, how clean—all the positive things we listed the other day. We’ll be amiable, and we’ll be engaging.”
The moment they headed out they’d no longer be Scooter and Gary, grifters. They’d be a couple of regional representatives of a national organization, hoping that this move would be permanent. They’d talk about settling in, settling down, and becoming a part of the community.
“That works for me. I’m hoping whichever place we choose has that chicken fried steak. Never had it before last week, but man, it was good!”
Scooter clapped his best friend, his partner, on the back. The two of them really had a lot in common. They were only different in the details. “I could go for an order of that myself.”
Chapter Eleven
Her men had come home a few minutes before, and now they were sitting down to supper. She was curious to see what they thought of the taco soup she’d made. Maria had told her it was one of their favorites, but that she thought they both liked less cilantro and more black olives than the way she made it for her husbands.
Her mother-in-law had also mentioned that, despite their always complimenting her and eating every drop, she suspected they preferred their soup a little less “hot.” Pamela wasn’t a fan of cilantro, nor could she get her taste buds to accept very much “hot,” so she’d eliminated the first altogether and cut the chilies called for in the recipe in half.
Before they started eating, Adam said, “Joan brought her boy in about an hour before the end of the day. He’d been running outside, tripped and fallen—landing on a small rock. Put a gash in his forehead.”
“Oh, no! Poor little guy. He’s all right, isn’t he? Joan must have been beside herself!” She’d been invited by Joan for tea the week before and had taken some muffins, which little Gordy had devoured.
“He’ll be fine, sweetheart,” James said. “It was a small cut but, being on his forehead, quite messy. Those kinds of injuries can be tricky, too. Adam and I took care of the medical end of things, suturing the cut. Uncle Terrence explained to his son and daughter-in-law the signs of trouble to watch for. The boy probably won’t be concussed, but you never know with wee ones. Of course, I told them to call us if they have any concerns, but I would guess they’ll call Terrence instead.”
“I’ll pop over there tomorrow and take some of my cornbread muffins. Little Gordy really likes those.” Pamela had been planning to go to her mother-in-law’s for lunch—the latest planning session of the Lusty Ladies’ coffee clutch. Of course, she thought of it as such, because she felt a little reluctant to tell her men exactly what the purpose of the group’s getting together so regularly truly was.
It had astounded her, a month before, when she’d learned the extent to which the grandmothers were willing to go in order to find some justice for her father.
Apparently, they had connections all over, even some in New York City. They’d hired a private investigator whose office was in Manhattan! The first report from him was due today, and that was to be the business portion of the get-together tomorrow—to hear that report and to decide their next steps.
Now she’d just head over to Joan’s, first.
“My goodness, baby. Whatever you did to this recipe, please, keep doing it!” Adam sighed as he spooned another mouthful of her taco soup.
James followed suit, and his smile spoke volumes.
“Mother puts a lot more heat in hers, and something else we don’t really care for,” James said. “But…” He shrugged.
“But you didn’t want to tell her you don’t really care for it. You’re both good sons.�
� All of which Maria knew, which was why she’d more or less instructed Pamela to change the recipe. How sweet is it that not only do the sons want to take care of the mother’s feelings, but the mother is just as attentive to the sons’? She looked from James to Adam. “Having said that, I will beg you, please, if I make something you don’t like, tell me. I won’t be offended. My goal with the meals I’ll be preparing for you is only to please you—the two of you. That’s something I very much enjoy doing.”
Adam reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “All right, baby, we promise.”
James repeated the gesture and the pledge.
She’d used her slow cooker to prepare a small roast pork. She’d added a homemade barbecue sauce once the roast was cooked. Using two forks, Pam rendered pulled pork from roast pork. The meat, plus some freshly made rolls—thank you, Bernice—and they would build their own sandwiches once the soup was done. She had various “add-ons” suitable for soup or sandwich on the table, including onions, cheese, olives, peppers, and lettuce.
She’d already learned that Adam and James didn’t care for big, full meals every night. Her goal really was to please them—and she knew how to do that because she’d asked them about their preferences.
If only they’d get the hint. The men still hadn’t worked their way around to figuring that one out. It could very well be that she’d have to tell them. But Pamela was willing to give them some more time. She felt a smile coming on and put her head down as if she was contemplating her soup. She really hoped Grandmother Chelsea gave the pair a little more time, too. That dear woman had threatened to give them each a swift kick in the ass. Pamela could still picture the moment that threat had emerged, including the word, “ass.”
Chelsea Benedict Jessop-Kendall looked like a dainty and delicate little old lady, but looks could be deceiving. The woman has more spine than most adult men I’ve met. Pamela hoped that when she was Chelsea’s age, she’d be just like her.
One Thanksgiving in Lusty, Texas Page 10
