Crossed Bones by Carolyn Haines Page B

In his official capacity at the bank, he was a stoic and reserved man. Tinkie was the fuse that lit him, and I felt an unreasonable swelling in my heart for the two of them.
    "No marriage is perfect, but those two do get on," Bridge said, giving voice to my thoughts.
    "I'm really beginning to respect Oscar," I admitted. "But don't tell him, he'll get the big--"
    I didn't get to finish. A shadow fell over my plate and I turned to find Marshall Harrison standing over me, a glower on his face.
Marshall
was a decade older than I and I knew him only because he owned the local fast-food franchise.
    "You shame all of us,"
Marshall
said, his words slurred with too much alcohol.
    "I think you should walk away from the table," Bridge said levelly. He didn't rise, but his body was poised for action.
    "I'm talking to Miss Delaney,"
Marshall
said, putting a sweaty hand on my shoulder. "Your mother was a troublemaker and now you've taken up the flag. Decent folks around here don't like it and we won't put up with it."
    Bridge had intervened once, as is a gentleman's right, but I was no lady. "Take your hand off my shoulder now," I said, turning in my chair so I could look at him.
    Instead of removing his hand, he squeezed. "
Hampton
is white trash. He's going to get what he deserves."
    I had a sudden thought that Emanuel Keys may not have hung the noose at the courthouse. There were factions, both black and white, that wanted violence. I drew back my elbow, prepared to land a blow where it would do the most good.
    To my surprise,
Marshall
's knees buckled and he almost dropped to the floor. Oscar had stepped up behind
Marshall
and held his other arm in a viselike grip, levering it up behind his back.
    "Take your hands off the lady," Oscar said.
    Marshall
's hand instantly fell away. "Excuse us," Oscar said calmly as he steered
Marshall
toward the exit. Bridge excused himself and followed. I started to go outside, but Tinkie caught my hands as she sat down at the table.
    "Let the men handle it," she said.
    "It's about me and I should see it through," I insisted.
    "This is only the beginning," she said sadly, holding my hands in her lap so I wouldn't get up.
    "Why?" I asked, still a little stunned. "What's this case to Marshall Harrison? I doubt he ever went to Playin' the Bones or even knew who Ivory Keys was, much less Scott Hampton. What does my mother have to do with this?"
    Tinkie released one of my hands long enough to drain the rest of her champagne. "It doesn't matter, Sarah Booth. That's what I tried to tell you. The scabs are coming off the past now. The guilty and the innocent will be swept up in this. There won't be a winner, no matter what the outcome."
    "There never is a winner when someone is dead," I said bitterly.
    Bridge and Oscar returned, neither with a hair out of place. Oscar ordered another bottle of champagne, and Bridge leaned over to whisper in my ear. "It's important that we act as if nothing happened. And it didn't. The man was drunk and stupid."
    When the waiter brought the champagne, we ordered dinner, and through the wit and manners of the men, Tinkie and I were able to put the evening back on track.
    We laughed and danced, and in the quiet moments, I found myself surrounded by the ghost of memories of my youth, when I'd sat with my parents and watched an older generation of belles dancing with their handsome dinner dates.
    Bridge offered me a bedazzling view of what my future might have been, had I not wanted to become an actor. Had my parents not been killed when I was a teenager. Had my mother not been a socialist and indoctrinated me into the ways of the independent female during my formative years.
    Before the evening was over, I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps I'd made a serious mistake by chucking out the baby with the bathwater.
    As we rode back through the soft night to Dahlia House, I kicked off my shoes and tucked my throbbing feet under me. I had paid the price of wicked shoes without a