“Looks like you’ve been samplin’ too much strawberry wine, Mr. Wolfe,” she said loudly. “Better sit a spell and let the effects wear off before you try to dance with someone again.”
A few folks laughed, though Vicky didn’t think it shook their interest in her dinner partner. The Butlers were big-name folks in Anderson County, so everyone would be filled with questions. Carlton stomped back to the table where Rebecca sat with one leg crossed over the other, fanning herself with a bunch of papers. He reminded Emily of that Cheshire cat in a movie she saw as a child—all teeth with that fake smile. He looked mad enough to chew up railroad spikes and spit out thumbtacks.
Poor Rebecca looked so bored and so dang hot that Nettie felt sorry for her. She picked up three plastic cups of wine and carried them to the table.
She pulled out a chair and sat down across from Rebecca. “Y’all look like you’re about to burn up.”
“I am,” Rebecca said.
“But we can endure the heat. The limo doesn’t leave until four o’clock.” Carlton’s whole body language changed. “I don’t believe that we have met.” He extended a hand. “I’m Carlton Wolfe, and you are . . .”
“Nettie,” she said.
He frowned as they shook. “So, are you interested in letting me explain a little about our proposition here in Pick?”
“Not really. I just thought y’all might like a little strawberry wine. It’s good and cold and will sure help cool you down,” Nettie answered.
Carlton threw back the wine like it was a shot of whiskey. “Not bad. I saw the two musicians up there on the stage talking to you. I understand one of them owns an automobile junkyard and the other one works for him. Would you introduce me to them?”
“That’s Ryder and Shane. Don’t think they’re interested in talking to you. Shane’s business is Pick Auto Parts and Repair. Give him a call and make an appointment if you want to talk to him.”
“Tell me about them,” Carlton said.
“Well, Shane’s grandpa owned the junkyard until he had to go to an assisted living place down in Palestine.”
Carlton almost rubbed his hands together. “So is Shane now the owner, or is the grandpa?”
Nettie played along. “Oh, he signed it all over to Shane a while back. And Ryder is his best friend and helps out for room and board at Shane’s house.”
“So that young man owns the property?”
“Looks that way.”
“And the other one, does he own property?” Carlton asked.
Nettie took a sip of the wine. “Not anymore. His dad sold his place to Shane’s grandpa when he remarried and left town. It’s only ten acres next to the junkyard and all grown up in weeds, but I reckon Shane will use it someday for his wrecked cars.”
Carlton wiggled in his chair. “I think I’ll go mingle in the crowd and, when these boys stop playing, get to know them a little better.”
Rebecca downed her wine in three gulps. “Not bad for homemade wine. It wouldn’t ever hold a place in Dallas, but it’s cold.”
“How long have you been workin’ for Carlton?”
A sheepish expression crossed her face. “One month.”
Nettie slid the second cup of wine over to her. “Sip it and you’ll like it better.”
Like a rebellious teenager, she finished it off without even coming up for air. “It still tastes like crap.”
“I guess some folks don’t have the palate for it,” Nettie said. “So what’s in this contract?”
“Basically it says the same thing that Carlton has already told you.” She fanned faster as the weather and the wine began to combine. “Tell me about that Ryder guy. I would have fallen on my face if he hadn’t caught me.”
“His mama was from Dallas. His daddy was raised here. They married, moved here to do a little farmin’, had Ryder, and she was miserable. When Ryder was about five, she couldn’t take any more. She got a divorce and moved back to Dallas. His dad remarried later on down the road, when Ryder was about seventeen. He sold everything and moved to Montana. The new wife had a spread up there. Ryder stayed behind and lived with Shane and his grandpa his senior year. He’s got a few cousins scattered around Dallas, but not much other family. Both of his parents are dead now.”
“Why didn’t he go with his dad?” She asked.
“He was just starting his senior year when they left and he already had a scholarship to Texas A&M and”—Nettie lowered her voice—“he didn’t like the new stepmama very much.”
“Poor baby,” Rebecca sighed.
Nettie quickly changed the subject. “Where did you get your law degree?”
“I’m plannin’ on goin’ to law school someday. Right now I just do whatever Carlton needs.” Her shoulders slumped. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“Is your name really Rebecca?”
She nodded. “Of course it is. Would you like to go over this contract or not?”
Nettie shook her head. “Be a waste of time, since I don’t have any property to sell. You see that tall, dark, and handsome guy over there sitting with the short lady?”
“The one she was dancin’ with?” Rebecca fanned faster and faster.
“Well, honey, he couldn’t even talk me and my partner in business out of a recipe for strawberry tarts. We are pretty set in our ways here in Pick, and we don’t want to sell what we’ve got.”
“I’d give that guy whatever he wanted just to get to dance with him.” Rebecca giggled and leaned forward. “And honey”—she dragged out the last word—“I’d bet you that Hilton could sweet-talk a woman’s underpants down around her ankles, so don’t be so sure your neighbors won’t sell that property. That girl who’s been dancin’ with him all afternoon is about to spend a little time with him in our motel in Tyler. She might be the first one to put her name on the dotted line. What does she own?”
Nettie chose to ignore the last question. “The party is just getting into full swing, so you’ll be here for a while. You might as well get rid of those shoes, feel the grass under your feet, and dance a little, because no one is interested in those papers you are usin’ to cool down.”
“They will be.” Rebecca giggled again. Evidently, she couldn’t hold her strawberry wine too well. “Carlton has big plans, and he’s willin’ to do whatever it takes. Don’t push him.”
“And that means?”
“He’ll have his big score even if bodies start piling up. He doesn’t do so well with folks tellin’ him no.”
“Well, honey” —Nettie stood up and smiled—“I didn’t touch that cup of wine right there, so you enjoy it. And don’t hold your breath until Carlton has bought all the property in Pick. With your coloring, you’d look horrible in that shade of blue.”
Rebecca sipped the wine. “Tell that good-lookin’ Ryder that he can bring me another cup when he takes a break. The guitar player in a band always takes my eye.”
Nettie waved over her shoulder as she walked away. She hoped that Carlton did talk to Shane about the junkyard property. Shane might stutter, but he’d singe the hair right out of Carlton’s ears with the heated words he’d use.