The Barefoot Summer(89)

“I can’t believe that he was already engaged when we’d only been married six months,” Amanda said. “And to a gang member’s sister. Was he losing it?”

“He saw dollar signs, not bullets,” Jamie said.

“Well, I hope she has better luck with that ring than I did. Maybe she’ll hock it and buy herself something nice with the money. This time it wasn’t seven years in between.” Amanda dried her hair and tossed the towel onto the coffee table.

“Who knows how many times he was married and divorced between each of us?” Kate said. “So your ring went missing, too, Jamie?”

“Oh, yeah, not long after we were married.”

“And yours, Amanda?” Kate asked.

“About two weeks,” Amanda answered. “I felt so bad about it, but Conrad was real sweet. He said that he should have had it sized down to fit my finger before then so it was his fault. He even said he would replace it, but he hadn’t gotten around to it.”

Jamie unfolded a lawn chair and sat down. “How about you, Kate?”

“It disappeared a couple of weeks after we got married. He said it had sentimental value because it was the ring that his father gave his mother. I felt horrible that I’d lost it, until a couple of years later when he told me that he’d taken it back because I wouldn’t give him a divorce.”

Jamie raised her hand. “I’d be willing to bet we all had Iris’s ring from her first husband and that his new fiancée got the same ring.”

“That son of a bitch,” Amanda growled. “I’d take my wedding band off and throw it in the lake if I was wearing it. I had to remove it when pregnancy made my hands swell. I’ll get rid of the thing when I bring the rest of my stuff to Bootleg.”

“Home—that reminds me,” Kate said. “The murder is solved. We are all free.”

“I like that,” Amanda said. “But I’m kind of glad that this has all happened. I came looking for closure, and I got it. But I also found myself. I like this town and these people, and I’m glad that we don’t have a stink on us. Do you guys feel like it’s not as big a deal as it was a month ago?”

Kate glanced at Jamie.

Jamie pushed up out of the chair. “Yes—same story again, but different reasons. I like the future I see here. Let’s have a glass of wine to celebrate. You haven’t put your two cents in yet, Kate. Are you staying or going?”

“Staying,” Kate said. “I’ve got some things I need to work through that have nothing to do with Conrad. Right now he’s probably more history to me than he is to y’all.”

“Yes,” Amanda and Jamie said at the same time.



Kate had gone to bed with damp hair the night before, and now it was sticking up and out in so many directions she could have modeled for a punk rock band. She ran a brush through her hair, drew it up in a ponytail, and got dressed. When she looked into the mirror again, the same Kate stared back at her, but this one was far different than the one who’d left Fort Worth more than a month ago. That corporate lady would never have been caught in denim shorts and a neon-green T-shirt with a picture of a multicolored unicorn on the front. Gracie had picked it out when they’d gone shopping after the court date, and wearing it made Kate smile—every single time.

She padded to the kitchen in her bare feet and poured a cup of coffee, picked up a leftover breakfast burrito from the stove, and carried both out to the deck. Wednesday morning, five minutes till eight thirty. She’d made an appointment with her mother’s assistant for a fifteen-minute block of time to talk to Teresa.

At fifteen seconds before the time, Kate dialed the number. Her mother picked up at exactly eight thirty. “Okay, Kate, your vacation time is over on Friday. Your name has been cleared. You don’t have any common sense when it comes to men and that will hurt your business a little, but it won’t ruin you if you go forward with determination to show your worth. It’s time to come home.”

“Where is home?” Kate asked. “Is it where you hang your hat or where you park your checkbook?”

“Don’t mess with me,” Teresa warned.

“Okay, I’ll shoot straight. Either I get a year off, without pay, of course, or my resignation will be faxed to you in ten minutes,” Kate said.

“You are serious? What are you going to do? Drive a tractor for a living?”

“Maybe. That does sound exciting.” Kate pictured herself walking across a plowed field hand in hand with Waylon.

“I’m not giving you a year off, and if you resign, I’ll sell this company and you won’t get a dime of the money.” Teresa’s icy tone left no room for argument.

“I’ve never been poor. It might be an interesting adventure.” Kate could live for years on the interest from her own investments. She didn’t bother to remind her mother that she owned thirty percent of the stock in Truman Oil.

“I mean it, Kate. I’m not backing down one inch.”

“Then you’d better call Red Dirt and see what their offer is, or else get ready to sit on the throne awhile longer. I’m not coming back to Fort Worth.”

“Send me the resignation.” Teresa hung up on her.

Ten minutes later, Kate watched her two-line resignation with her signature at the bottom go through the machine in her bedroom. When it finished, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There were no regrets, and she felt freer than she had in her whole life.