Chapter Six
February 13th. 2009© 2009 Kimberly J. Fish
Chapter Six
Lacy stared through the windshield swearing to herself she’d been up and down this road a million times and never once had she seen so many people standing at their mail boxes, driving with their convertibles open, or just ambling down the sidewalk as if they had nothing better to do than watch her drive through Comfort in some strange guy’s Suburban.
If she could have slinked down past the window or thrown herself into the backseat without anyone noticing the gymnastics she would, in a heartbeat. But the funny thing about this Suburban driver was that he’d taken an inordinate thrill in riding with the window down, blaring Lyle Lovett from the stereo and waving to just about everyone they passed. Knowing how fast the gossip mill worked in this town by the time she and Henry passed the Dairy Queen she fully expected to see Joe Don Schaeffer, the Comfort news paper editor, standing in the parking lot with a camera strapped around his neck.
“Like they’ve never seen me with a man,” she mumbled.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Henry said speaking over Lyle’s rendition of ‘Cowboy Man.’ “Making some prediction about our success at the Lock and Store, were you?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m thinking gold mine,” she said with sarcasm. The truth was that despite Henry, Kali and Brad’s speculation that Inga Steinmeyer not only had a cache of old European treasures, to which they also speculated that it wasn’t beyond her to have spiked Mr. Steinmeyer’s meat loaf with arsenic, Kali held to the belief that Inga lies. The vice may not be as a chronic condition, but certainly for the benefit of working Henry and Lacy against each other to get the best price possible.
Inga survived the depression. She wasn’t going to just give away valuable heirlooms. The scars from climbing through Mr. Applegate’s horse barn in search of the Ansel Adams originals were all the reminder she needed that old people who hoarded treasures didn’t part with them without some serious groveling and potential danger to body parts.
She could guess Inga had a doozy of a game in mind for her and Henry. Hadn’t the lady moaned that she was bored, hungry and looking at a long cold winter with nothing to do? Good grief, Lacy thought, Inga could draw this thing out for months.
Henry glanced at the Dairy Queen half a mile down the road. “How about a burger?”
“We just ate.”
“An hour ago,” he said as if that was more than enough time for the average human to waste away. “And a cup of soup does not a lunch make.”
She had been a bit stingy with sharing her thermos of Tomato Basil when he showed up at the warehouse dangling a key in front of her nose. But he was the one who’d charmed his way past Claire and Sharon with a to-go box of scones from Arlene’s Café and had he saved any for her? No. He announced she was obviously impervious to bribes as he settled himself in Nelly Lander’s Victorian rocker. She still didn’t understand why he, a man who’d probably graced the best dressed list of every Dallas magazine, didn’t look ridiculous tipped back in a fragile wicker rocker with his lizard skin boots propped on her desk, but he didn’t. He mirrored a prince.
“Give yourself a heart attack on a bun, I certainly won’t cry when you’re caught in the grips of indigestion and have to be given an I.V. of TUMS.”
”Yikes, sounds like the voice of experience.”
”If you’re more interested in food than in finding out what Inga has stashed then be my guest. But if you stop, you’re eating alone. I’ve got work to do.”
“So you’d hike a mile down the road while I dine on fries, is that it?”
Lacy forced a grin. “I have a friend with Vespa. He’d give me a lift.”
Henry waved to the man on a Vespa, his longish hair blowing behind him as he exited out of the gas station. “That would be your ride, right?” Henry turned his head to see the rearview mirror. “Looks like Prince Charming is in a hurry, maybe heading to San Antonio.”
Luis was probably running parts between his two mechanic shops, but Henry didn’t need to know Luis would be back in fifteen minutes. “Okay, what are you? A freaky physic or something? First you slip into town and try to steal my business and now you’re on to my friends?”
”I’m just trying to do my job. You’re the one with all the territorial hang-ups.”
”I do not have hang-ups,” she said even as a list flashed through her mind. “A little OCD maybe, but otherwise I’m a poster child for emotional balance.”
“Would that be before or after you moved in with your sister?”
Lacy folded her arms across her t-shirt. She counted to ten and then onto fifteen for good measure. As his tires crushed gravel in the Dairy Queen parking lot, dust coughed from the ground billowing into her window as if to remind her counting just wasn’t going to help her win the battle with a man who had negotiated representation of a make-up maven’s million dollar estate. Yes, she’d Googled him. When one goes in to battle it’s important to know the enemy’s weakness. At this rate, the best strategy seemed to cooperate and pray inspiration came along the way.
”I’d go easy on the fries if I were you. A man of your advanced age can’t hope metabolism is going to burn off those empty calories.”
Henry winked. “I can’t tell you how much your sympathy for my health means. And to think I didn’t guess that you cared.”
“I don’t care, but those clothes you’ve invested in are expensive. It’d be a shame to outgrown them before they’re even threadbare.”
“I like your clothes, too. You’ve got a great figure, but I’m sure you hear that all the time.”
Lacy stared at him searching for the bite, but she found none. “Do not compliment me. We’re not going to be friends.”
“Sweetheart, we’re well on our way past friendship. I can practically see Robinson and Cavanaugh printed on business cards.” He squinted to read though the graffiti on the drive-through menu. He glanced at her, “Do you want chili on your fries?”
Her eyes ached for glaring at him. Whether because he had the audacity to assume they’d ever progress beyond impolite associates or that he’d nailed her secret junk food weakness it was a coin toss. Either way, this man was a mystery.
Henry stopped next to the ordering window, which in this town was the delivery window too, graciously ignoring the wad of bubblegum plopped on the metal surface and announced to the uniformed attendant, “I’ll take one jumbo fries and she’ll have a Blizzard. I’m guessing with M and M’s because she’s kind of got a hard shell, but I’m sure she’s sweet on the inside, and make it a large. With two spoons.”
Lacy turned her head toward the gas station next door so he wouldn’t see her smile.
“Oh, my, gawd!”
Lacy’s head flipped around, her skin already curling at the screeching voice of her arch enemy. Well, enemy might be a little strong, but there was no denying she and Theresa O’Banshee had bad history.
She watched Theresa gobble up Henry’s features. “Why you must be new to town. Welcome to Comfort, I’m Theresa and I own this restaurant.”
Lacy would have laughed at the audacity in Theresa’s voice if the words weren’t true. Theresa’s daddy owned a string of DQ franchises up and down Interstate 10 and he’d made a gift of this one to Theresa when she turned twenty-one. In Lacy’s way of thinking, that explained all of Theresa’s hang-ups with men and authority, but she’d never seen Theresa wearing a blue and red striped uniform and actually working behind the counter. Obviously, this was a very weird day.
“And Lacy, are you showing around our newest citizen? ‘Cause if there’s a welcoming committee, I want to be on it.”
Sparing a quick glance to see how Henry was reacting to this performance, she saw his expression easy and relaxed. Maybe even a bit curious, like he was at the zoo seeing a new breed of exotic tiger, called feminine outrageous. Lacy hated that Theresa was incredibly beautiful, even if those long, dark curls currently pinched under a jaunty hat were courtesy of an expensive colorist, because when Theresa turned on the charm few men could resist her.
”He’s not going to live here, Theresa. He’s a tax collector. Inspecting those who the IRS suspects haven’t been forthcoming with full returns.” Lacy tilted her head to the side as she smiled at Henry. “Or is it that you investigate companies who employ underage immigrants, gosh, I just can’t remember?”
Theresa’s blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t know any IRS men who wear Armani causal wear.”
Henry shrugged. “It was on sale at Barney’s, I never pay full price.”
Theresa pursed her glossy red lips, glanced between Henry and Lacy like she was analyzing a tennis match and then announced. “Well, since I’m a law abiding business owner and all, I have nothing to worry about from a tax man, particularly one who has such good hair, I’m going to have to tell you to pull on around and come into the store.”
Lacy leaned across Henry saying, “We don’t have time for a visit. Henry has to get on back so he needs his order to go. And no one in this car needs a Blizzard despite what he may have told you.”
“Henry, huh, great name,” Theresa cooed as she propped her elbows on the widow ledge and leaned forward. “Sounds so intelligent. I bet you’re a smart man.”
Henry’s smile never faltered. “Well, I don’t say I’m smart, but if others think I am, what’s a guy to do but go along with the game.”
Lacy regretted she had to stretch against the arm rest and Henry’s chest to talk. “Great seeing you, Theresa. I bet you’ll be at the Chamber meeting Monday night. We can catch up then.”
Theresa ignored Lacy. “So, Henry, do you want jalapeños too? You look like a guy who might like things spicy.”
Lacy groaned.
“Normally, I would.” Henry winked. “But I’ve had to start watching what I eat. My doctor has recently advised me my health just isn’t what it used to be. She’s a real task-master.”
Theresa nodded as if she understood. Calling over her shoulder she yelled, “I need a gut-buster, hold the greens, and add a side of bi-carb.”
Henry smiled into Lacy’s eyes. “Have I told you lately that I love . . . this town.”
Since his face was mere inches from hers she felt impaled by the twinkle in his gaze. “So glad we can entertain you, but we’re not hicks. We know you think you can waltz in here, steal high value items with a few folds of dollar bills and then bilk a fortune out of your clients. We know this is a game to you.”
Theresa handed a sack out the window. “There’s a game somewhere? How perfect that it’s my break time.”
To be continued.