According to the directory on the wall beside the stairwell, she was on floor two and the Bosque Bend Theater Guild met on the third floor, in Room 300. She hurried up the stairs, passing a group of schoolchildren wielding plastic branding irons, who were being herded along by a trio of anxious-looking adults.
The door was locked, but she could see through the window in the door that there was an elevated stage at one end of it. She nodded. The room was an appropriate place for a theater guild to meet, and it would be a good place to practice too. The performances, as Pen Swaim had told her, would be in the big auditorium in the center of the building.
Since she had a little extra time, she might as well spend a few minutes checking out the local scene. She walked back down to the second floor, looked around, then wandered into a display room. One wall featured an interactive history of the Indian tribe that had been the area’s first settlers, but grimy-looking fossils dug out of the Bosque riverbank dominated the space. Moira moved on to the next room, which featured rotting saddles, wicked-looking branding irons, and ambrotypes of squinty-eyed cowboys, all donated, according to the legend beside the display, by Rafe McAllister of the C Bar M Ranch.
She checked her watch again. Eight minutes till blastoff. A leisurely stroll up the stairs and she’d still be five minutes early, the perfect statement for a new hire who was ahead of the mark.
She turned the corner toward the front of the building and collided with a fast-moving freight train.
A flame-haired man the size of a building, who was holding a strawberry blonde child by the hand, steadied her with a light touch on the arm, his eyes twinkling. “Didn’t mean to mow you down, ma’am. We’re makin’ an emergency run for the ladies’ room.”
Ma’am? He was calling her ma’am? Like John Wayne and Gary Cooper in the old westerns? Did small-town Texans really do that, address all unknown females as ma’am? Holy Hollywood! Did Red have a horse hitched up to a parking meter outside?
Moira tried to smile back—her real smile, not the clenched-teeth grin she’d been taught to use for character shots—but Big Red was halfway down the hall before her lip muscles could get themselves coordinated. She stared after him in awe and wonder. Maybe there was more to Bosque Bend than a last-ditch job and a boringly tame history museum after all. Red had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen.
Red and the little girl stopped in the middle of the hall.
“Come with me, Daddy. I don’t want to go in there by myself. It’s big and dark and honks like an angry elephant.” The child was dancing with purpose, and the high pitch of her voice echoed off the hard walls.
Red bent down to her. “Delilah, Daddy can’t go in there. It’s only for girls.”
“Then I’ll go with you to the daddies’ bathroom, like when I was little.”
“That’s not gonna fly, baby. Tell you what. Daddy will stand right here by the door, and if you yell, he’ll come a-chargin’ in and rescue you.”
Moira approached them, making sure her smile was properly adjusted this time. “May I help? I was just about to use the restroom myself.” She turned to the child. “Delilah, my name is Moira.”
The little girl gave her a hard stare, then broke into her own smile. “Okay. I like you. You’re pretty.”
Which made Moira want to suggest that Red hustle his daughter off to an ophthalmologist ASAP. Having grown up on the Hollywood scene, she knew what pretty meant—tall and willowy, blond and busty, languid and lovely—none of which she was. On the other hand, while short, small-breasted, and hardworking might not win any beauty contests, it was very good at opening restroom doors. Delilah charged into the nearest stall, talking the whole time.
“I have three aunts and three uncles. Aunt Rocky comes to our house to take care of things, but she really lives with Uncle Travis in his house. Aunt TexAnn and Uncle Wayne live in Austin most of the time because she makes laws that tell people what to do. Aunt Alice and Uncle Chub don’t talk to us ’cause they’re mad at Daddy. Oh—I have Aunt Sissy too, but she’s not a real aunt. She works for Daddy in his office.”
“Um. That’s nice.” Moira had no idea how many aunts or uncles—make that half aunts or half uncles—she herself had. The only siblings she knew of were her half sister, Isis; and her half brother, Arne, but there were probably more in the woodpile. Her mother’s exes did tend to get around.
Delilah flushed the toilet and scurried out of the stall as the pipes trumpeted. It sounded just as she had said, like an elephant on the rampage. Moira helped her wash her hands, then escorted her back to her father.
Red shot her a slow, sexy smile. “Thanks, ma’am. Delilah’s not happy with the restroom, but it came with the buildin’. This place used to be Bosque Bend High School before they built Eisenhower Consolidated to pull in all the kids at this end of the county so we could play in the Interscholastic League A-division.”
She looked at him blankly.