The Barefoot Summer(58)

“Anytime, darlin’.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I loved this man’s daddy. He always left me a dollar tip just for bringing him the menu. That’s all Grandpa let me do in those days. Your server will be with you in a minute.” As she left she pulled a set of sliding doors shut, leaving them in a small enclosure with a window facing a tiny little garden.

“This is great, Waylon,” Kate whispered.

“I’ve been in here dozens of times, and I didn’t even know there was a VIP table.” He grinned. “She must like you.”

The doors opened, and a waitress appeared with two glasses of water and a couple of one-page menus. “What can I get for y’all today?”

“I want the double bacon cheeseburger, chili cheese fries, and a Coors in the bottle. Longneck if you have it,” Kate said.

“Well, that was quick. How about you, sir?”

“The same, and add a foot-long hot dog with cheese and chili, no onions on anything for me,” he said.

Kate handed her the menu. “Hold the onions on mine, too.”

Waylon’s hand closed over hers. “You know this means we have to sit here and talk for an hour so the beer will be out of our system before we leave.”

“As long as we don’t talk about the murder, I don’t suppose that will be a hardship,” she said. “I have a question to get us started. Have you ever thought of drilling for oil on the ranch?”

The waitress brought their beers and set them down. He took a long sip of his before he answered. “No, thank you. We make a fine living with our Angus cattle. I might look into the equipment to make big round bales of hay in the next couple of years, though. It would mean not having to go out to feed cattle twice a day. But I’d rather talk about something other than ranching.”

“Such as?”

“You. The future. What happens when your vacation ends? How much I like the color of your eyes. Those could be starters,” he said.

“Maybe we’d best see if I’m indicted for murder before we think about us or the future,” she said. That could have a huge bearing on whether he’d ever see the color of her eyes again.

He covered her hand with his. “I do not believe you killed Conrad. I just have to find who did so that you are cleared.”

“Thank you for that. Now let’s talk about today and whether the chili in this place is as good as what you make. Or we can talk about how much I adore Gracie and really would steal her if I could figure out a way to do it legally.”

“Whatever you want to talk about is fine with me. Hell, woman, you could read that menu backward to me,” he said.

“Now that’s a pickup line if I ever heard one.” She laughed. “When we finish eating, would you mind if I did some shopping?”

“Darlin’, I’ll sit outside the dressing room door and enjoy the show as you try on clothing. Think you could model one pair of jeans for me?”

“It could be arranged.” She nodded. Jeans? She hadn’t bought jeans in years. She worked in power suits, and when she was at home, she wore sweatpants and T-shirts. It might be fun to try on a pair and maybe some boots. If she was going to work on a ranch in the wintertime, she would need boots.

Where in the hell did that thought come from? She almost gasped.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Is my mama going to die?” Gracie asked Amanda over breakfast the next morning.

“Of course not! Why would you ask that?” Amanda frowned.

“My daddy just up and died. He didn’t tell me he was going to die, and if my mama is going to die, will my Mama Rita take care of me? Will I have to go back to Dallas and leave the cabin?”

“Your mama would have told us if that was happening, don’t you think?”

“My daddy didn’t tell me anything. I wish I could stay here forever.” Gracie propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. “I didn’t like that funeral. Everyone was so sad and then after the preacher finished, everyone was mad. Mama was really mad until we came here and now she is happy. I don’t ever want to live in our old house again, because she might be mad like that again.”

“We were all mad. So was Kate and so was I,” Amanda said.

Gracie went back to eating. “You’d tell me the truth if my mama was going to die, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would,” Amanda said.

“Would you tell me if Kate was going to die?” Gracie asked.

“I promise that no one is going to die,” Amanda said. “And if I know they are going to pass away, I’ll tell you. Now let’s finish our breakfast.”

“Okay, but did my daddy die because I didn’t tell him good-bye the last time he came to see me and Mama? Lisa said she wouldn’t tell her mama good-bye when she was sick and she died. Is it our fault?”

Why couldn’t Gracie have gotten up with her mother that day instead of sleeping until almost nine o’clock? That way Jamie would be answering these questions. Amanda wasn’t a mother, not yet. A little voice in her head reminded her that she would someday have to answer more questions than these. Her child would want to know why the other kids had a father and she didn’t. What had happened to him and could she see pictures.