The Ballad of Dixon Bell. Lynnette Kent
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m-m-me. F-find one m-more player and w-we could g-go three o-o-on three.”
Trace looked over at the suggestion, then quickly went back to staring out the window into the growing twilight. But Kate saw that Dixon had noted his interest.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said just as Abby came back with their drinks. Then he turned toward Kelsey, on his right. “I noticed you got out on the driver’s side. You’re working on getting your license?”
“Uh-huh.” Kelsey darted a glance in Dixon’s direction, but didn’t meet him eye to eye.
“I learned to drive in my grandmother’s New Yorker—this big yellow boat of a car, ’bout thirty-some years old now but it only has fifty thousand miles on it because she never goes more than a few miles outside the county line. I never did learn to parallel park that monster—the officer who gave me the test was a second cousin once removed, or something like that. He let me slide.”
“Parking is the worst,” Kelsey agreed. “Backing up is almost as bad.”
Dixon nodded. “It’s always hard to know which way to turn the wheel.”
Trace snorted, but Kelsey was captivated. She and Dixon embarked on a discussion about driving that lasted through most of dinner. Listening to their easy dialogue, Kate wondered where Dixon’s inordinate charm had come from. When had the awkward, inappropriate boy become such a lady’s man? Miss Daisy possessed more than her fair share of social skills, of course, but Kate didn’t remember a single hint in the young Dixon Bell of the charismatic skill he was using to draw Kelsey out of herself.
And then she wondered if he’d used that same skill on her this afternoon, if the flattering interest she’d basked in was just a tool Dixon plied on any woman within talking distance. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had been a zvery smooth operator fifteen years ago when she’d first known him. Still was, if his success with various younger women around town was all that rumor reported. Recently, so she’d heard, he’d settled down with just one of those young women and was planning to marry her. Despite his image as a man about town, L.T. was a conventional soul at heart. Perhaps he’d just needed to find the right person…
A person who wasn’t her. The knowledge that L.T.’s real problem with their marriage had been as simple as falling out of love with his own wife struck Kate with the force of a felled tree. Devastated all over again, she stared down at her chicken casserole and knew with complete certainty that she couldn’t possibly manage another bite.
DIXON SAW a stricken look take over Kate’s beautiful face, but couldn’t figure out what might have caused it. He and Kelsey were getting along just fine—he’d exerted himself to reach out to her, wanting to make sure Kate knew that her kids were no barrier, as far as he was concerned. The boy would be harder to get to know. Trace had a hunger about him that Dixon had seen in runaways and abandoned teenagers, a hunger for attention, for guidance, which Dixon had no trouble at all attributing to the boy’s father. L.T. LaRue had left his son at a vulnerable point in the boy’s young life, with an emptiness that only a father could fill. Dixon understood that void, having grown up without his dad. At least he’d had Miss Daisy. And Trace had Kate. But even the most loving mother couldn’t completely take a father’s place.
“So what’s everybody having for dessert?” Abby Brannon stood at his shoulder, surveying the remains of their meal. “Kate, honey, you’ve hardly touched your food. Is something wrong?” Kate shook her head and Abby didn’t press for an answer. She moved around the table clearing plates, a woman of ample curves and ample concern for everyone she encountered. He remembered her as a shy girl, coping with her mother’s terminal illness even as she got ready to leave high school and start her own adult life. While he had struck off on his own, ranging far and wide in an effort to discover who he was, Abby had stayed at home. Was she satisfied with what she knew about herself? About the rest of the world?
Then again, Dixon wasn’t sure he was satisfied, after everywhere he’d been and everything he’d done. And look at Kate—valedictorian of the graduating class, voted Most Likely to Succeed, the one student among them whom everybody was sure would launch a brilliant career and make her mark on the world. As he recalled, she’d planned to be a lawyer like her dad. Thirteen years later, she was a spurned wife in the same little town she’d grown up in. Yet another of life’s ironies.
She certainly didn’t seem happy, didn’t radiate the kind of confidence and joy he remembered adoring in her all those years ago. She was still breathtaking, with her dark hair, her pale, perfect skin and her slender figure, but muted, as if a shadow hung over her life. The shadow of L.T. LaRue.
“Who are you planning to kill?” Abby leaned over to take his plate and slide the knife out of his clenched fist. “And what do you want for dessert? Lemon meringue pie? Chocolate cake and ice cream?”
Dixon deliberately relaxed. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you, too. And just coffee, thanks. I’ll save dessert for tomorrow.”
“All you disciplined people.” Abby sighed. “Why do I spend my time making pies for people who won’t eat them?” Shaking her head, she headed toward the kitchen with a trayful of used plates and glasses balanced on one arm.
“I don’t know how she does it.” Kate, too, was shaking her head. “Always smiling, always ready to serve, and she works harder than anybody I know.”
“A-Abby’s a w-wonder.” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Charlie s-s-still comes t-to w-work, but s-since his heart attack, he m-mostly v-visits with the c-customers. Abby’s d-d-definitely the p-prime mover around here.”
The bell on the diner’s front door jingled, announcing new arrivals. Dixon glanced over out of curiosity, only to have his gut tighten with a combination of irritation and dread when a young woman wearing a mind-bending red dress stepped inside, followed by L.T. LaRue.
Beside Dixon, Kelsey gasped and stiffened. On the other side of the table, Kate and Trace and Adam couldn’t see, without turning around, what was going on. But all Kate needed was her daughter’s face. As she stared at Kelsey, reading the girl’s reaction, what little color she had left in her cheeks drained away. She pressed her lips together for a few seconds and took a deep breath.
“Well, this has been fun.” Her voice shook slightly. “But Kelsey and Trace have homework, so I think we should be getting home. Adam, if you’ll excuse us—”
DeVries had taken a quick glance over his shoulder to gauge the situation. “Of c-course.” He got to his feet to let Kate slide out of the booth. Dixon did the same for Kelsey, all the while keeping an eye on LaRue. Abby, bless her heart, had herded L.T. and his girlfriend to the other side of the diner. For a minute, Dixon thought disaster had been avoided.
But LaRue let his companion sit down and then strutted across the room to stand directly in Kate’s path of escape.
“Well, look here. What an interesting group this is.” He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocked back on his heels. “Hey, Trace, Kelsey. I was looking forward to seeing y’all on Saturday for breakfast. How’s school going?” He sounded genial enough, if a little distracted. And he didn’t wait for an answer from the kids. “You’re keeping strange company these days, Kate. Selling secrets to my biggest rival?” LaRue’s laugh set Dixon’s teeth on edge.
Kate shook her head. “Just visiting with old friends, L.T. Have you met Dixon Bell? He went to school with Adam and me, and has just come home after a long time away.”
“I have, in fact.” LaRue nodded at Dixon. “Which is why I’m really interested to see him talking with the head of DeVries Construction. Thought you’d get a better offer, did you, Dixon? I’m telling you that’s not likely.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t care what the offer is, LaRue. Magnolia Cottage is not for sale.” Dixon strived for the same calm Kate had demonstrated. LaRue had already made him mad once tonight. He didn’t intend to repeat the experience. That would give the man too much importance.
“Y-you