She was still chewing when the front door burst open and Irene stomped in wearing a pair of bright red rubber boots, a cowboy hat, and a long denim duster, all covered with snow.
“Walter, where in the hell are you?” she yelled.
Allie jumped up so quickly that the robe’s belt loosened and the top fell back, showing the top half of her breasts. Blake and Allie met Irene in the living room and she took one look at Allie, doubled up her fist, and shook it at Blake.
“Damn it, Walter! I’m going to kill you with my bare hands for cheatin’ on me.”
Allie took a step forward and grabbed her grandmother’s hands. When she did even more of the robe opened up.
“Granny, this is Blake and I’m Alora Raine. I’m your granddaughter and this man is not Walter,” Allie said sternly.
“You are naked under that robe,” Irene hissed.
Allie continued to hold her hands. “Yes, I am. I’ve been working in insulation all day and my clothes are in the dryer right now. I’ll get dressed as soon as they are done. We’ll call Mama to come get you.”
“My mama has been dead for years so you can’t call her. Silly girl, there ain’t no phones in heaven.” Irene eyed Blake seriously. “You aren’t Walter, are you? Who are you again?”
“I’m your new neighbor, Blake Dawson. Allie is doing some carpenter work for me,” he said.
Allie groaned when she heard a vehicle coming to a stop outside. Thinking about having to explain to her mother why she was wearing nothing but a robe was enough to make her want to run home in four inches of snow in her bare feet. If that old adage about how that man plans and God laughs was true, then the Almighty must be howling up in heaven right now.
High heels on the wooden porch didn’t sound like her mother’s footsteps but then maybe Katy had gotten dressed up for the church thing and hadn’t had time to kick off her Sunday shoes. It didn’t matter if she showed up in rubber boots or her best dress shoes as long as she took Granny home and didn’t throw a hissy about the way Allie was dressed.
Allie let go of her grandmother’s hands and put the robe to rights. The cutesy little rap on the door sounded like da-da-da-da-da and then a da-da should have alerted Allie that it was not her mother.
Blake yelled for the visitor to come on in. The door swung open and a cold north wind pushed Nadine into the room. She wore her best Sunday coat and high-heeled shoes, and she carried an apple pie in her hands.
“Blake, darlin’, I brought you a pie. Oh. My. God!” She looked from Irene to Blake and then to Allie. “I didn’t know you had company.”
Irene poked her on the arm. “What the hell are you doing here? Does Bobby Ray know you are out at this time of night flirtin’ with a married man? He’ll call off the wedding if he finds out and I’ll tell him next time I see him.”
“Blake is married?” Nadine frowned.
“I’m not married,” Blake answered.
Nadine shoved the pie into his hands. “I just dropped by to bring you another apple pie and welcome you to Dry Creek.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
More noises out in the driveway meant Katy was really coming to take Granny home this time. After this shit with Nadine, it would be wonderful to get the whole ordeal finished and go home with her mama and Granny. Hopefully, her things would be dry by then.
The knock came to the door and Blake opened it.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“Nadine?” Her fiancé, Bobby Ray, pushed his way past Blake and into the house. He stopped so quick that his boots squeaked on the floor. His eyes went straight to Nadine. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at that ladies’ thing at the church?”
“I came to see Allie,” she said quickly. “She wanted to taste my apple pie so I brought one to her.”
Bobby Ray, a tall man with a full black beard and a beer belly, crossed his arms over his chest. “Why here and not over at Audrey’s Place?”
“Lizzy was at the church meeting and said she was doing some work here and when I called her, she said to bring it here,” Nadine lied.
“I asked about the pie recipe when she and Sharlene and Mary Jo came in the store yesterday for coffee. It’s awful sweet of you to bring one to me,” Allie said.
Bobby Ray tilted his head toward Blake. “Why is Blake holding it and why are you dressed like that?”
“He’s holding it because”—Allie nodded toward her grandmother and lowered her voice—“she thought it was for her and she hates apple pie and she’s on a tear tonight and we were afraid she would throw it at Nadine and ruin her coat.” The sentence came out in a rush. “And why I’m dressed like this isn’t a damn bit of your business, Bobby Ray.”
“That’s right.” Irene slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you dare call my granddaughter a slut! What exactly are you doing here? Did you get drunk and lose your way to Audrey’s Place? Well, it ain’t a whorehouse no more but we all know that you chase anything that’s got a pair of panties up under their skirt.”
“Granny!” Allie said.
“It’s the truth.” Irene tilted her chin up defiantly.