Jamie shook it, hoping the whole time that she didn’t leave orange stains on Paula’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you. It’s been quiet here this morning, so I’ve gotten half this drawer organized. This needs to be done before I can work on that pile of papers or start doing anything on the computer.”
“Thank you!” Paula dropped into a chair and fanned herself with the back of her hand. “It’s going to be another scorcher out there, and us chubby people take a while to cool down. Victor says that he’s been talking to you about teaching here this fall.”
“Do you know who I am?” Jamie eased down into the chair behind the desk and ran her tongue around her teeth.
“I know exactly who you are. The whole town of Bootleg knows about you three women, and we commiserate. What a nightmare! But nothing that man did surprises us, not after Iris. No one here is going to hold that over your heads.” Paula grabbed a tissue from a box on the desk and wiped sweat from her forehead, then pushed her salt-and-pepper hair back behind her ears. “Are you even interested in the position?”
“I’m not sure,” Jamie answered.
“Moving here would sure enough be a cultural shock from inner-city Dallas,” Paula said, “so I imagine you’d have to give it a lot of thought.”
Jamie smiled. “Yes, it would, but I’m amazed at how much my daughter is thriving here. You are right, though, it’s something I need to think about.”
“So far we don’t have any applicants, so you’ve got time. But about the first of August, they’ll come out of the woodwork. All the plum jobs will be filled and people will be looking for anything, even if it means teaching at a little backwoods school like we have, so let me know if you decide to apply.” Paula stood up. “Until then, thank you for taking on this part-time job for us.”
“Thank you for the consideration and for giving me a summer job.”
Paula smiled. “From the looks of that drawer up there, we both got a good deal.”
Kate expected Jamie and Gracie to have gone to school that Monday morning when she awoke, but she was surprised to see that Amanda’s vehicle was also missing. That meant for the first time she had the place to herself. She stuffed a biscuit with leftover bacon and grape jam and carried it to the porch.
After she’d eaten it and finished a second cup of coffee, she began to pace from one end of the porch to the other and back again. Still nothing from the lawyers, and the idea of not sharing the letters was weighing on her heart. The other two had every right to know what was going on. There might even be something in them to help Waylon.
She picked up her phone and called the lawyer. While it rang, she crossed her fingers like she’d done as a child when she really, really wanted something. The angels who granted wishes must’ve been on strike that day, because the news was that they hadn’t found anything out yet.
She could go home and let the dust from all the drama settle. She’d go to court and get her maiden name back, and since she’d be the new president of Truman Oil, no one would dare voice out loud anything about the Conrad scandal. She’d about talked herself into packing her bags and leaving when her phone rang.
“We’re about ready to go to the hay field,” Waylon said.
“Were you serious?” she asked.
“Pays minimum. Work until we can’t see anymore. No dress code. You can work barefoot if you want in the truck,” he said.
“Where’s your place?”
“The ranch is easy to find. Take the county road out of Bootleg toward Wichita Falls. The ranch is about three miles down that road on the right. You’ll see a big metal sign above the cattle guard that says ‘Double Back Ranch.’ Turn there and follow the path. I’ll meet you in the front yard. How long until you can get here?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“You’ll drive an old work truck with no air-conditioning, so you might want to pull that pretty blonde hair up in a ponytail,” Waylon said.
“See you soon,” she said before she changed her mind.
She picked up a cooler from the kitchen and stopped by the convenience store in Bootleg to buy bottles of water and a six-pack of cold Coke. The thermometer in her Caddy said that it was 101 degrees, and driving a truck with no air-conditioning would make for thirsty work. She had to stand in line to pay and noticed a rack of baseball hats for sale. She picked out a pink camouflage one, removed the price tag, stuck it on her head, and pulled her ponytail out the hole in the back. Then she saw the sunblock and picked up an extra bottle of that.
She paid for her items, followed his instructions, and drove up in the front yard twenty-two minutes later. He was leaning against a flatbed truck, a bottle of water in his hands and sweat glistening on his arms and face.
“Sorry I’m late, I had to make a stop, and there were five people ahead of me,” she said.
“I don’t count two minutes as late, darlin’,” he drawled. “I like the hat. You ever driven a stick shift?”
Her mouth went dry at the endearment, and all she could do was nod.
“Well, this truck is your Caddy for the afternoon, and I’ll gladly give you all the work you want to do,” he said. “We’ll be in the hay several days a week for the rest of this month, so anytime you want to come out here and take a look at country life, you are welcome.”
“I learned to drive stick in my dad’s reconditioned ’55 Chevrolet.” She set her little cooler in the back of the truck. “Here’s some water and Coke so no one dies of thirst.”
“Beautiful and smart. A woman after my own heart.” He grinned. “Your dad really was a trusting soul to let you drive his vintage car.”
“Oh, he never did let me drive the ’63 Corvette that Mother bought for their twentieth anniversary, even though he did leave it to me.” She grinned.
“You own a ’Vette?” he asked.
“And the ’55 Chevy and his pride and joy, a ’32 Ford Deuce.” She grabbed the cooler and carried it to the truck.
“Like Abby’s on NCIS?” Waylon asked.
“Her car is red. Mine is black. Daddy said that it might have been a moonshiner’s car at one time. You driving out to wherever you are hauling hay, or do I need to give you a demonstration of my skills?”
“Where are those cars?” Waylon asked.
“In a special climate-controlled room at the oil company. I drive them every so often just to keep the cobwebs blown out. You want to see them sometime?” she asked.
“Can I drive that Deuce?”
“That depends on lots of things. For now who’s driving this rig, me or you?”
“Why did you decide to drive for me today anyway?”
“Trouble in paradise. Inheritance does bring out the claws.” She settled into her seat and reached for the seat belt, but there wasn’t one.
“Fightin’ over the cabin?”
“Looks that way.”
“And since you are the one with the biggest bank account, they are taking sides against you?” he asked.
“Nope, I’d say we’re all pretty much standing on our own rocky soil.”
He started the engine and put the truck in gear. “I’m kind of glad to hear that. If y’all were getting along like sisters, I’d continue to think you were putting on a show to cover something up.”