“Now, don’t take offense, but it’s not you we have a problem with, not precisely. It’s her associated with young men in general.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. She’s been sheltered, doesn’t understand things the way someone her age usually would, and that’s on me, but—”
“What about Drew Runous?”
Kip snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked. He blinked several times before asking, “Dr. Runous?”
“Yeah. If memory serves, there was a story going around a while back about Jenn driving out to the ranger station, dropping off some baked goods, and then—”
“Yes. I’m familiar with the story and it’s true. Bless her heart.”
Did he just bless his own daughter’s heart? My blood pressure spiked.
He continued, “But Dr. Runous comes from a quality family. His father is a senator in Texas. It wasn’t an association we’d shy from, if the opportunity had presented itself.”
“And my family isn’t? Quality?” I fought to keep my tone even and my expression benign.
Rationally, I knew what Kip Sylvester thought didn’t matter. It didn’t. As Jennifer’s somebody, if he made trouble for me, I’d make trouble for him. He didn’t know it yet, but he was going to bless my union with his daughter and then he was going to support my wishes in all things, including but not limited to forcing his wife to back off my woman.
So why his opinions made my temples ache wasn’t entirely clear. All I knew was, with every foul sentence he’d uttered, my anger swelled.
Kip shook his head quickly, denying my last question. “Not at all. That’s not at all what I meant. Your momma was an Oliver. Your family is as old as the Paytons and Donners in these parts, on your momma’s side. In fact, I haven’t discouraged Jennifer from your brother Billy. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and has always shown the kind of ambition I’d like in a son-in-law.”
Wow . . .
WOW.
He is more of a narcissistic parasite than I thought.
I nodded and ground my teeth, plastering on a faint smile. I began drafting a mental list of all the pie I’d eaten over the last year, who’d baked it, and whether it had been seasonally appropriate. It was a complicated ranking, because I liked pie, and the only thing keeping Kip Sylvester from my temper.
I was angry. A lot angrier than I should have been.
“Look, Cletus. Here’s the crux of it. We don’t like the idea of Jenn having . . .” he seemed to be struggling for the right words, finally settling on, “casual male friends. If she has a friend in you, then it might give her ideas.” The principal sighed again. He did a lot of sighing. It was irritating.
“Oh. I see. You don’t want her to have ideas,” I said, again before I could catch myself.
“Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly right.” He nodded quickly, smiling. And then, as though realizing what he’d just said, he shook his head vehemently. “Wait, no. That’s not what I meant.”
“Hmm.” I squinted at him, taking perverse delight in how his face was turning an unnatural shade of red. “I don’t know, Principal. I think that’s exactly what you meant. The way I see it, you and Mrs. Sylvester have a lot invested in your daughter not having ideas.”
“Now, Cletus, son. Don’t be putting words in my mouth. That’s not how it is.” He lifted his voice, growing tense.
His anxiety had a cooling effect on my temper. I was still angry, but instead of being hot-headed, the fury I felt had turned frosty.
“Oh, now, Kip, I think we’re both saying the same thing here.” I smiled and shrugged. “You and Mrs. Sylvester need your daughter with her reputation intact, her brain free of the worries that come from independent thought. Makes sense to me.”
His frown deepened. He looked disconcerted.
I reached for a rag to wipe my hands. “If she were to ‘go rogue’ and pursue a relationship with someone who didn’t bolster her image—and therefore the brand you and your wife have so painstakingly created—then that might interfere with your plans and financial well-being. Right?”
“Uh, well . . . right. But—”
I nodded somberly. His features relaxed. Seeing the somber nod usually made people relax.
“Mr. Sylvester. Sir. You don’t need to worry about me.”
He sighed again, a big exhale of relief. “Thank you, Cletus. That’s great to hear—”
“I won’t tarnish her image. Not one bit. Whereas you, on the other hand . . .” I stopped nodding, held his gaze with mine, allowing just a touch of my anger through the wall of self-control.
His eyes widened and I was gratified by the edge of fear in his voice as he asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Just that it wouldn’t look good if it was known that the sweet Banana Cake Queen’s father has been carrying on an affair with his secretary for the last—oh, let’s see—four years?”
***