Run, Rose, Run(14)
He shoved a steaming basket toward her. AnnieLee’s mouth watered and her stomach clenched when she smelled the oil and salt. She glanced up and saw him smiling at her.
But she couldn’t let herself. She shoved her hands with their dirty fingernails deep into her pockets. “I have to go,” she said.
Then she scooped up her money and stalked toward the door, stubborn and hungry, full of nothing but stupid pride.
Chapter
13
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” Ruthanna whispered as she stood barefoot in her mammoth closet, flipping through a rack of glittering gowns. Was she in an emerald-green mood, or a scarlet one? Did she want short or long? Fitted, flowing—or perhaps both?
Maya had carefully painted Ruthanna’s nails a rich red, and Ruthanna herself had bronzed, highlighted, and tinted every inch of her still-lovely face; now came the vexing task of picking out her dress for the annual Book Garden gala and fundraiser.
Though Ruthanna didn’t miss the army of makeup artists and hairdressers who’d fussed over her for decades, she did slightly mourn the loss of her personal stylist, who’d often seemed to know what Ruthanna felt like wearing before she knew it herself. But retired stars shouldn’t require stylists, Ruthanna felt, or the Secret Service level of security detail she’d once employed. She was trying to keep things simple these days.
And so, in the spirit of that simplicity—and because the proverbial clock was loudly ticking—she decided to pluck a gown from its hanger and call the job done.
“Voilà,” she said. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”
The dress her fingers had selected at random was a snow-white sheath with intricate swirls of sparkling crystals, tiny pearls, and silver beads that cascaded like a shimmering, wintry waterfall from neckline to hem.
The dress was perfect, she realized: glamorous but not over-the-top, and body-hugging enough to help her stick to that infuriating low-carb diet she’d committed to for a month.
Carefully she stepped into the dress, feeling its cool satin slide up her skin and settle onto her narrow shoulders. With all the beading, it must have weighed seven pounds at least. Next she slipped her feet into tiny high-heeled shoes, and finally she put on Jack’s gorgeous, outrageous earrings. She gave herself a quick final glance in the mirror—she now sparkled as if she was made of ice—and then she hurried downstairs to wait for her car and driver.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Ethan as she stepped onto her porch. Her feet hurt already.
Gotta come 2 Cat’s Paw 2night she’s here
Ruthanna rolled her eyes and hit Delete. She was busy tonight. Hell, as far as Ethan’s girl singer was concerned, she was busy until the end of time.
The white limo pulled up, and bald, big-shouldered Lucas got out to open the door for her. He’d been her driver for nearly three decades, and he doubled as her bodyguard when the need arose.
She was silent as they drove, preparing herself for the only kind of public appearance she made anymore. Though she might have wished herself still at home, curled up in silk pajamas with a glass of wine and a good novel, she believed in giving back, in showing up for good causes. The Book Garden was created to put books in the hands of needy kids, and that was a mission she took very seriously.
Thirty minutes later, Ruthanna was mentally running through her speech one last time as she minced her way to her table near the front of the ballroom. She hadn’t picked her most comfortable pair of shoes, that was for sure.
Jack Holm was already sitting down and halfway through his second old-fashioned. He looked up at Ruthanna and smiled.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said as she sank into the chair across from him. “You hate these things.”
“I couldn’t pass up a chance to see you,” her former manager said. “Though this coat and tie is choking me.”
She immediately recognized the line as one from Waylon’s “Luckenbach, Texas.”
“You look great,” she said, which was true. Jack had aged in the last couple of years, but he was still handsome. Distinguished-looking, too, with his bespoke suit and hand-tooled boots, his head of silver hair, and his hideously expensive Patek Philippe. And, she couldn’t help but note, with his newly bare ring finger.
Sometimes she teased him about how far he’d come from where he’d been when they first met. In 1979 he wore a dented Stetson and played slide guitar with a socket from Sears on his pinkie while singing backup in the Tootsie’s house band. But he’d quit performing after only a few years, and he’d never looked back. He preferred a desk to the stage, a phone to a mic.
He took a sip of his drink. “What’s black and white and red all over?”
“Any number of things,” Ruthanna said, “as I recall.” Her phone buzzed with another text from Ethan.
You gotta see her
really
Her fingers were poised to write him back: Quit it.
“Ahem,” Jack said.
So she hit Delete and looked up at him again. “I hate guessing—you know that. Just tell me the punch line.”
“A bunch of Nashville bigwigs in too-tight tuxes,” he said. “Doing their best to breathe. Is it hot in here or what? I’m sweating like a sinner in church. Those earrings look dynamite, by the way. I assume my thank-you card’s in the mail.”