Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(44)

“Hello, Gracie Snow. I’m Way Sawyer.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly as she remembered the conversations she’d overheard on the car phone between Bobby Tom and Mayor Baines. So this was the man everyone in Telarosa was talking about. She realized this was the first time she’d heard Way Sawyer’s name without the words “that sonovabitch” in front of it.

“I take it you’ve heard of me,” he said.

She sidestepped. “I’ve only been in town a little over a day.”

“Then you’ve heard of me.” He grinned and tilted his head toward Elvis, who had once again begun to squirm in his seat. “Is that your baby?”

“Oh, no. He belongs to Natalie Brooks, the actress. I’m baby-sitting.”

“This sun’s in his eyes,” he said. “You’d better get back on the road. Nice meeting you, Gracie Snow.” With a nod, he turned away and began walking back to his car.

“Nice meeting you, too, Mr. Sawyer,” Gracie called after him. “And thanks for stopping. Not everyone would have.”

He waved and, as she pulled back onto the highway, she wondered if the people of Telarosa weren’t exaggerating Mr. Sawyer’s villainy. He seemed like a very pleasant man to her.

Despite his dry diaper, Elvis screwed up his face and began to fret. She glanced at her watch and saw that she’d been gone well over an hour. “Time to get you back to the old chuckwagon, cowboy.”

The sack containing the box of condoms bumped against her hip, and she remembered her vow not to ignore Bobby Tom’s faults just because she’d fallen in love with him. With a sigh of resignation, she knew she had to take action. Even though he was officially her boss and the man who made her heart race, he needed a reminder that he couldn’t run roughshod over her without accepting the consequences.



“Four clubs.”

“Pass.”

“Pass.”

Nancy Kopek gave her bridge partner a sigh of exasperation. “That was Gerber, Suzy. I was asking you for aces. You shouldn’t have passed.”

Suzy Denton smiled apologetically at her partner. “I’m sorry; I lost my concentration.” Instead of her bridge game, she had been thinking about what had happened in the drugstore several hours earlier. Gracie seemed to be preparing herself to make love with her son and because she liked her very much, she didn’t want to see her hurt. Nancy nodded good-naturedly at the two other women sitting around the table. “Suzy’s distracted because Bobby Tom’s home. She hasn’t been herself all afternoon.”

Toni Samuels leaned forward. “I saw him at the DQ last night, but I didn’t get a chance to mention my niece to him. I know he’ll be crazy about her.”

Toni’s partner, Maureen, frowned and led the six of spades. “My Kathy is a lot more his type than your niece, don’t you think so, Suzy?”

“Let me freshen everybody’s drinks.” Suzy laid down her hand, glad she was the dummy so she could escape for a few minutes. Normally, she enjoyed her Thursday afternoon bridge game, but today she wasn’t up to it.

When she reached the kitchen, she set the glasses on the counter and walked over to the bay window instead of going to the refrigerator. As she stared out at the bird feeder that hung from a magnolia next to the patio, she unconsciously pressed her fingertips to her hip and felt the small flesh-colored patch that supplied her body with the estrogen it could no longer produce on its own. She blinked her eyes against the sudden sting of tears. How could she be old enough for menopause? It seemed as if only a few years had passed since that hot summer day she’d married Hoyt Denton.

An all-encompassing wave of despair settled over her. She missed him so much. He had been her husband, her lover, her best friend. She missed the clean soapy smell of him after he got out of the shower. She missed the solid feel of his arms wrapped around her, the love words he’d whisper when he drew her down on the bed, his laughter, his corny jokes and awful puns. As she gazed out at the empty bird feeder, she folded her arms across her chest and squeezed, trying for a moment to imagine that he was holding her.

He’d just turned fifty the day before his car had been broad-sided by a semi during a terrible storm. After the funeral her desperate grief had combined with a stomach-gnawing anger at him for leaving her alone and putting an end to the marriage that had been the foundation of her life. It had been a horrible time, and she didn’t know how she would have survived it without Bobby Tom.

He had taken her to Paris after the funeral, and they’d spent a month exploring the city, driving through French villages, touring chateaux and cathedrals. They’d laughed together, cried together, and, through her pain, she’d been filled with a humble gratitude that two scared youngsters had managed to produce such a son. She knew she’d begun to rely on him too much lately, but she was afraid if she stopped, he’d slip away from her, too.

She’d been so certain when he was born that he would be the first of several children she would bear, but there hadn’t been any more, and sometimes she ached to have him small again. She wanted to hold him in her lap, to stroke his hair, bandage his bruises, and smell that sweaty, little boy smell. But her son had been a man for a long time now, and those days of dabbing mosquito bites with calamine lotion and healing hurts with kisses were gone forever.