“Yes they can.” Peri warmed as she recalled Silas’s hotel room, his cool thoughts in hers.
Howard inched closer, his knitted vest looking tired next to Fran’s high style. “I talked to Silas yesterday. He’s been working with her,” he said, and Peri wondered at the emphasis he put on the word. “He’s already had some success bringing back her past anchor. If he can do that—”
“The one she killed, right?” Fran interrupted, and Taf’s lips parted in surprise.
“Why are we still talking about this?” Peri said in disbelief. “I’m trying to help.”
“To help yourself.” Fran frowned, clearly undecided. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“I’m here because I need to know the truth,” Peri said, her pulse quickening.
Fran sighed. “Don’t we all,” she said, then jumped when the phone on her hip vibrated. “How nice. Their plane came in early,” she said sourly as she took a look. “I have to go, but you are coming with me. You can explain on the way.”
Peri didn’t move, gaze sliding from her dirty clothes to Taf’s understated elegance. Howard, too, looked uncomfortable, and he scrubbed a hand over his thick bristles making a dark shadow on his face. “Ahh, I know half-beards are in these days, but I could really use a shower before going to your box, Fran.”
Fran jerked to a halt, grimacing. “I don’t have time for this.” Excuse me?
“Mom.” Taf put a hand on Peri’s shoulder. “Go do what you need to do. Take Howard. He can wash up at the jockey showers. I’ll give Peri something of mine to wear. We’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. You can get your guests settled, and then we can talk.”
Shower? Peri’s impulse to walk and keep going faltered. “You have something that might fit me?” she asked, and Taf nodded, eyes bright. “You are a lifesaver. I’ve been wearing this for three days.” She knew that if they got Howard alone he might dish the dirt, but she hadn’t done anything in the last three days that she’d do differently—given the chance.
“Howard?” Fran prompted, and the man took both of Peri’s hands, surprising her.
“You’ll be okay?” he asked, the depth of question in his brown eyes startling.
“Y’all go along, Howie,” Taf drawled cheerfully. “I’ve got this.”
But he didn’t leave until Peri nodded. Somehow it made her feel even more vulnerable.
“I told you to lose that accent, Taf,” Fran said as she and Howard got into one of the golf carts, and Taf frowned.
“I don’t know what they’re worried about,” Peri said drily when Fran told her security to stay with Peri. “They took my jackknife.”
“Come on,” Taf said, her voice tight and accent almost nil as she tugged at Peri’s elbow. “I’ve got something that will go fabulously with your skin tone.”
“I’d be happy with just something to cover my black eye, thanks,” she said distantly, following her up to the permanent decking that the RV was parked against. Taf was still smiling, but the tension between her and her mother was easy to see, old and deep.
The shower was surprisingly decadent for something on wheels, and Peri indulged until the water went cold, appreciating the expensive soap and shampoo. After some talk about the nonfunctionality of the first painted-on dress that Taf had picked out, Peri settled into skintight white jeans and a black blazer with a white silk button-down shirt underneath. There was even a matching derby hat, and taking the glitzy black-and-silver monstrosity in hand, she left the tiny bathroom vestibule and went into the main space.
Taf looked up from her laptop, her face lighting up. “Wow, you look better in that than I ever did. It’s a little casual for the races, but damn, girl! You look good!”
Flushing in pleasure, Peri spun to show it off. “You don’t think the hat is too much?”
“No.” Standing, Taf all but pushed her down into one of the cushy chairs. “Sit.”
Flustered, Peri sat, watching Taf through the mirror as she pinned the hat in place. She’d never had many girlfriends. It was easier to drive potential friends away than have them think she was stupid when she couldn’t remember what they’d done together last week. “Thank you,” Peri said softly, not knowing what to make of the attention. “You’re not going to get in trouble about the pants, are you?” They were Fran’s, seeing as Taf had legs the size of toothpicks.
“What is she going to do? Ground me?” Taf took the hatpin from between her teeth, carefully wedging it to hold the hat on. “Sorry about my mom. She’s intense. Here. Try this on your eye.”