rooms.”
Meg swallowed hard. “I’d be . . . happy to help you out here.”
“You’d better think this through,” Ted said. “What are you paying, Birdie? Seven—seven-fifty an hour? Once Uncle Sam gets his share—and assuming she works a full shift—that’s a couple weeks’ work. I doubt Miz Koranda could handle cleaning bathrooms for that long.”
“You have no idea what Miz Koranda can handle,” Meg said, trying to look much tougher than she felt. “I’ve been on a cattle drive in Australia and hiked the Annapurna circuit in Nepal.” Only ten miles of it, but still . . .
Birdie lifted her penciled eyebrows and exchanged a look with Ted that they both seemed to understand. “Well . . . I do need a maid,” Birdie said. “But if you think you can work off your bill by loafing around, you’re in for an unhappy surprise.”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“All right, then. Do your job, and I won’t press charges. But if you try to skip out, you’ll find yourself in the Wynette City Jail.”
“Fair enough,” Ted said. “I only wish all disputes could be solved so peacefully. It’d be a better world, now wouldn’t it?”
“It sure would,” Birdie said. She turned her attention back to Meg and pointed toward the door behind the desk. “I’ll take you to meet Arlis Hoover, our head housekeeper. You’ll be working for her.”
“Arlis Hoover?” Ted said. “Damn, I forgot about that.”
“She was here when I took over the place,” Birdie said. “How could you forget?”
“I don’t know.” Ted dug a set of car keys from the pocket of his jeans. “I guess she’s just one of those people I try to put out of my mind.”
“Tell me about it,” Birdie muttered.
And with those ominous words, she led Meg from the lobby into the bowels of the hospitality industry.
Chapter Five
E mma traveler loved the creamy limestone ranch house she and Kenny shared with their three children. In the pasture beyond the live oaks, the horses grazed in contentment, and a mockingbird called from its perch on the newly whitewashed fence. Before long, the first peaches in their orchard would be ready for picking.
All but one member of the Wynette Public Library Rebuilding Committee had gathered around the pool for their Saturday afternoon meeting. Kenny had taken the children into town so the committee could conduct business without any interruptions, although Emma knew from long experience that no business could ever be conducted until each member, whose ages ranged from thirty-two to her own ancient forty, had finished discussing whatever happened to be on her mind.
“I’ve been saving for years to afford college for Haley, and now she doesn’t want to go.” Birdie Kittle tugged on her new Tommy Bahama suit, with its diagonal ruching to help camouflage her middle. Her daughter had graduated from Wynette High a few weeks earlier with straight As. Birdie couldn’t accept Haley’s insistence on attending the county community college in the fall instead of the University of Texas, just as she couldn’t accept her looming fortieth birthday. “I was hopin’ you could talk some sense into her, Lady Emma.”
As the only child of the long-deceased fifth Earl of Woodbourne, Emma was entitled to the honorific “Lady” but never used it. That, however, hadn’t stopped the entire population of Wynette—minus Emma’s children and Francesca—from addressing her as “Lady” no matter how many times she’d pleaded with them not to. Even her own husband did it. Unless, of course, they were in bed, in which case . . .
Emma struggled not to drift into an X-rated reverie. She was a former teacher, a longtime member of the board of education, the town’s cultural director, and president of the Friends of the Wynette Public Library, so she was accustomed to questions about other people’s children. “Haley is quite bright, Birdie. You’ll have to trust her.”
“I don’t know where
Meg swallowed hard. “I’d be . . . happy to help you out here.”
“You’d better think this through,” Ted said. “What are you paying, Birdie? Seven—seven-fifty an hour? Once Uncle Sam gets his share—and assuming she works a full shift—that’s a couple weeks’ work. I doubt Miz Koranda could handle cleaning bathrooms for that long.”
“You have no idea what Miz Koranda can handle,” Meg said, trying to look much tougher than she felt. “I’ve been on a cattle drive in Australia and hiked the Annapurna circuit in Nepal.” Only ten miles of it, but still . . .
Birdie lifted her penciled eyebrows and exchanged a look with Ted that they both seemed to understand. “Well . . . I do need a maid,” Birdie said. “But if you think you can work off your bill by loafing around, you’re in for an unhappy surprise.”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“All right, then. Do your job, and I won’t press charges. But if you try to skip out, you’ll find yourself in the Wynette City Jail.”
“Fair enough,” Ted said. “I only wish all disputes could be solved so peacefully. It’d be a better world, now wouldn’t it?”
“It sure would,” Birdie said. She turned her attention back to Meg and pointed toward the door behind the desk. “I’ll take you to meet Arlis Hoover, our head housekeeper. You’ll be working for her.”
“Arlis Hoover?” Ted said. “Damn, I forgot about that.”
“She was here when I took over the place,” Birdie said. “How could you forget?”
“I don’t know.” Ted dug a set of car keys from the pocket of his jeans. “I guess she’s just one of those people I try to put out of my mind.”
“Tell me about it,” Birdie muttered.
And with those ominous words, she led Meg from the lobby into the bowels of the hospitality industry.
Chapter Five
E mma traveler loved the creamy limestone ranch house she and Kenny shared with their three children. In the pasture beyond the live oaks, the horses grazed in contentment, and a mockingbird called from its perch on the newly whitewashed fence. Before long, the first peaches in their orchard would be ready for picking.
All but one member of the Wynette Public Library Rebuilding Committee had gathered around the pool for their Saturday afternoon meeting. Kenny had taken the children into town so the committee could conduct business without any interruptions, although Emma knew from long experience that no business could ever be conducted until each member, whose ages ranged from thirty-two to her own ancient forty, had finished discussing whatever happened to be on her mind.
“I’ve been saving for years to afford college for Haley, and now she doesn’t want to go.” Birdie Kittle tugged on her new Tommy Bahama suit, with its diagonal ruching to help camouflage her middle. Her daughter had graduated from Wynette High a few weeks earlier with straight As. Birdie couldn’t accept Haley’s insistence on attending the county community college in the fall instead of the University of Texas, just as she couldn’t accept her looming fortieth birthday. “I was hopin’ you could talk some sense into her, Lady Emma.”
As the only child of the long-deceased fifth Earl of Woodbourne, Emma was entitled to the honorific “Lady” but never used it. That, however, hadn’t stopped the entire population of Wynette—minus Emma’s children and Francesca—from addressing her as “Lady” no matter how many times she’d pleaded with them not to. Even her own husband did it. Unless, of course, they were in bed, in which case . . .
Emma struggled not to drift into an X-rated reverie. She was a former teacher, a longtime member of the board of education, the town’s cultural director, and president of the Friends of the Wynette Public Library, so she was accustomed to questions about other people’s children. “Haley is quite bright, Birdie. You’ll have to trust her.”
“I don’t know where
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