Lone Star Bride. Linda Varner
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nodded and gave Tony a smile that made him feel much better... until she glanced at her sister. At once Ruby’s smile slipped and she sighed as if the weight of the world were suddenly on her shoulders.
What gives? Tony had to wonder. He asked no questions, but filled his cup with hot, black coffee and immediately sipped on it. Though he scalded the inside of his mouth, his resulting sense of rightness with the world made the burn worthwhile.
Tony joined the ladies at the table. “Has Mariah already gone to work?” He’d hoped to catch a ride into town.
“I haven’t seen her this morning,” answered Opal.
“Me, either,” said Ruby, adding, “She could’ve had an early appointment, I suppose. Do you see her car, sister?”
Opal pushed a blue-checkered curtain aside and peered through the window. “It’s still there.”
So Mariah went her own way, Tony realized, and didn’t tell her landladies every move she made. Interesting. Last night he’d gotten the feeling that the three of them were closer than that.
“How do bacon and eggs sound?” asked Ruby. “Or we have frozen waffles we can heat up for you.”
“This coffee is all I need.” Tony had no intention of causing extra work for his gracious hostesses or accumulating more debt than he could barter his way out of. The part for his truck would be hard to locate and would cost a bundle—the main disadvantages of driving a classic vehicle—and Micah worked on a cash-only basis just as Tony, himself, did.
Tony, who’d recently laid out a lot of money for family Christmas presents, needed every cent he had in his wallet at the moment and probably more. He half wished for a checkbook, something he didn’t bother with, since so many places didn’t take out-of state checks—exactly what traveling Tony usually had. As for a credit card...in his experience, those were nothing but trouble. Hadn’t he labored three whole years to pay off his ex-wife’s debts, thanks to a divorce court judge?
He had, indeed, and so now paid as he went—by cash or services—and saved the rest. More important, he didn’t owe anyone a cent.
“But you have to eat.” Ruby looked decidedly distressed. “A good breakfast makes for a good day.”
“And I could sure use one of those,” Tony answered. He glanced toward the kitchen counter and spotted a toaster. “Got any bread?”
“White wheat or homemade sourdough?” asked Ruby, jumping up to dig in a wooden bread box and produce both.
“Sourdough.” Rising from the table, Tony took the bread from Ruby and motioned for her to sit back down. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“Oh, let her,” Opal told him with an airy wave of her hand. “She misses that. We both do. Ruby has two grown sons, and I have one. I also have two daughters and four grandchildren. We sometimes long for the days when we had our hands full with doing for them.”
“You both sound like my mother. I’m the next to youngest of five kids, and the only son.”
“What do they think of your being on the road all the time?” This question didn’t come from either of the twins, but from Mariah, who now stood in the doorway.
“They’re used to it,” he answered, noting that she looked brighter than the morning sun in her coral top and black pants. Mariah also wore a coral-and-black, geometric-print overshirt, which she had not buttoned, but simply knotted at the waist. To artist Tony’s eye, she appeared symmetrical and coordinated. The man in him simply appreciated her feminine style.
“Even your mother?” Mariah questioned, walking over to the refrigerator. From it she took a jug of orange juice. She then walked to the cabinet and retrieved a small glass.
“Even her. She knows I smother when there’s too much family around. Besides, I’ve been on the road since I was twenty-six. That’s eight years.” Tony let Ruby put the bread into the toaster and push down the spring lever, then motioned for her to let him take over.
Mariah leaned against the counter and sipped on her beverage. “Where do you travel?”
“All over. I prefer the northwestern states, but I’ve done spring break in Florida, July Fourth in Boston, the Jazz Festival in Memphis, and Mardi Gras in New Orleans.”
“Mariah was born and raised in New Orleans,” Ruby said.
Tony smiled. “I love the French Quarter. Always do my best work there. I don’t know if it’s the atmosphere, the music or what.”
For just a moment Mariah’s features softened. Tony guessed his words had brought back fond memories. Obviously she missed Louisiana.
“What made you move to Texas?” he asked, as his now-toasted bread popped into view.
“I like bluebonnets.” Mariah said, referring to the state flower. That answer, of course, told Tony nothing. Finishing her drink, Mariah set the glass in the sink. “I have to run, ladies. I’ll see you both tonight, okay?” Turning she headed for the door.
Tony tensed. “Mariah, wait!”
She paused, a look of irritation on her face.
“Can I bum a ride to the garage?”
Mariah’s gaze shifted to the unbuttered toast in his hand. “I’m ready to go now.”
“Oh, surely you’ll give him time to butter his bread,” said Ruby.
Mariah sighed. “I’ll be outside. Please hurry. I have a nine o’clock perm.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tony answered.
The moment Mariah vanished from view, Opal grabbed a paper towel and then motioned for Tony to put his toast on it. “I’ll do the buttering. You get on some shoes.”
Since he’d forgotten his bare feet, Tony groaned, nodded and dashed up the stairs. Barely three minutes later he bounded back down them, sneakers now on his feet, grabbed the buttered toast from Opal and, with a jaunty wave, ran out the front door.
Mariah, her forehead already beaded in sweat, flashed him a look of impatience, but said nothing as they got into her sensible white sedan. The drive to the garage took maybe five or six minutes. By then Tony had consumed his toast. Muttering thanks, he got out of the car and shut the door. She drove away at once without a backward glance.
For several seconds Tony stared down the street after the car. Never had he met a woman who tried so hard to dislike him. And never had he met a woman who so intrigued him. He wanted to find out what made her tick. He wanted to find out what turned her on.
Too bad she wanted him to drop dead.
“Must be losing my touch,” Tony murmured with a shake of his head. He turned and walked slowly to the garage, which appeared to be closed. Spying a note taped to the door, he stepped closer to read it and learned that the shop would be closed today.
Suddenly faced with a free day, Tony set off toward town on foot, searching for a pay phone. He found one at a gas station two blocks away and called home. His mother answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Mom,” he said when she answered. “It’s your prodigal son.”
“Well, hello, prodigal son,” Margaret Mason answered, clearly pleased to hear his voice. “Where are you?”
“A little town called Pleasant Rest.”
“And are you having one?”
Tony laughed dutifully at her little joke. “Actually I’m here because my truck broke down yesterday. Hopefully the mechanic will get it repaired pretty soon and I’ll be home in a day or two, as planned.”
“You’d better. Aunt Irene is already making plans for a big Christmas dinner.”
Tony’s mouth watered at the thought.