so, landing a kiss on Sam’s left ear in the process. “Now, you just come with me.” She took Sam’s hand and pulled her away from Edison. “He’s just a dirty old man, baby, who doesn’t have your best interests at heart. But I’m going to introduce you to every handsome man in this house.”
And it was some house. A copy of an antebellum Alabama planter’s mansion that had been on the Kay side of the family, the graceful whitewashed brick and columned structure rose to three stories, connected inside by twin staircases. The living room seemed to go on forever, with a dozen conversational areas—blue, gold, and white sofas and chairs grouped around glass tables that held crystal bowls in which magnolias floated. Across the far wall, a series of french doors led onto a brick terrace. The room buzzed with the chatter of a party already in full swing, occasionally punctuated by a bright bugle of sound as two women greeted one another, or the leonine roar that marked the end of a well-told dirty joke.
“Your home is beautiful,” Sam said to Kay Kay, meaning the compliment.
“Fifteen thousand heated square feet,” Kay Kay said, and laughed.
Sam turned and looked at her. Kay Kay’s smile was blindingly white. Sam was suddenly reminded of all those shiny Texas girls who won beauty contests—something in the genes, something in the water.
“Ed tries to keep me from saying things like that, but, honey, you just can’t stop a Texas girl from bragging.” Kay Kay paused a second and tugged her wine-colored silk bodice down over her generous bosom. “God, am I parched. What do you have to do to get a drink around this joint?”
At that moment, a waiter carrying a silver tray filled with tulip-shaped glasses of champagne appeared. Behind him was another waiter serving little biscuits filled with Virginia ham and miniature croissants stuffed with crab salad.
Kay Kay picked off a glass for each of them. Sam held hers politely, biding her time until she could abandon it for some club soda. Kay Kay slugged the wine right down. No doubt about it: well before the evening was over, Kay Kay was going to be a goner.
Sam looked around the room. “Who are all those people?”
Kay Kay burst into laughter. “’Swhat I like, a woman who wants to know something and just asks it.” She surveyed the crowd for a minute, narrowing her eyes as if she’d never seen any of them before. She grinned. “Weird-looking bunch of sons-of-bitches, ain’t it? My B list. Not you, of course, darlin’”—a line which, Sam knew, she would repeat twenty times before the evening was over—“but a lot of these folks are here just for professional reasons. Course, we almost always mix business and pleasure, ’cause S and L is our life, but at a big do like this we ask clients and judges and a passel of others.”
“Judges?”
“Sure, honey.” Kay Kay turned and looked at her. “Why not?”
“I never knew the bench fraternized with lawyers.”
“Well, they’re not exactly the enemy, you know,” Kay Kay said with a hearty Texas laugh, then pointed at a very short, stocky man who was holding a champagne glass in each hand while he gazed squarely into the cleavage of a tall redhead. “That’s Judge Deaver. Now, would you begrudge him that bubbly or those boobs?”
Sam chuckled along with her hostess, who laughed at all her own lines. Well, now, wasn’t this interesting?
“Maybe you’ll get to meet our daughter, Totsie,” Kay Kay was saying as she reached for another glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Or maybe not. She’s upstairs hiding.”
“The shy retiring type?”
“Hell, no. Totsie’s about as shy as I am. Even when she was a little bit of a thing, she was always leading cheers or twirling her baton or shooting her little rifle. She’s loud like me. Likes a lot of noise. Likes to be noticed, too. Her sole ambition in life is to be beamed into every living room in America—to be Jane Pauley. She’s
And it was some house. A copy of an antebellum Alabama planter’s mansion that had been on the Kay side of the family, the graceful whitewashed brick and columned structure rose to three stories, connected inside by twin staircases. The living room seemed to go on forever, with a dozen conversational areas—blue, gold, and white sofas and chairs grouped around glass tables that held crystal bowls in which magnolias floated. Across the far wall, a series of french doors led onto a brick terrace. The room buzzed with the chatter of a party already in full swing, occasionally punctuated by a bright bugle of sound as two women greeted one another, or the leonine roar that marked the end of a well-told dirty joke.
“Your home is beautiful,” Sam said to Kay Kay, meaning the compliment.
“Fifteen thousand heated square feet,” Kay Kay said, and laughed.
Sam turned and looked at her. Kay Kay’s smile was blindingly white. Sam was suddenly reminded of all those shiny Texas girls who won beauty contests—something in the genes, something in the water.
“Ed tries to keep me from saying things like that, but, honey, you just can’t stop a Texas girl from bragging.” Kay Kay paused a second and tugged her wine-colored silk bodice down over her generous bosom. “God, am I parched. What do you have to do to get a drink around this joint?”
At that moment, a waiter carrying a silver tray filled with tulip-shaped glasses of champagne appeared. Behind him was another waiter serving little biscuits filled with Virginia ham and miniature croissants stuffed with crab salad.
Kay Kay picked off a glass for each of them. Sam held hers politely, biding her time until she could abandon it for some club soda. Kay Kay slugged the wine right down. No doubt about it: well before the evening was over, Kay Kay was going to be a goner.
Sam looked around the room. “Who are all those people?”
Kay Kay burst into laughter. “’Swhat I like, a woman who wants to know something and just asks it.” She surveyed the crowd for a minute, narrowing her eyes as if she’d never seen any of them before. She grinned. “Weird-looking bunch of sons-of-bitches, ain’t it? My B list. Not you, of course, darlin’”—a line which, Sam knew, she would repeat twenty times before the evening was over—“but a lot of these folks are here just for professional reasons. Course, we almost always mix business and pleasure, ’cause S and L is our life, but at a big do like this we ask clients and judges and a passel of others.”
“Judges?”
“Sure, honey.” Kay Kay turned and looked at her. “Why not?”
“I never knew the bench fraternized with lawyers.”
“Well, they’re not exactly the enemy, you know,” Kay Kay said with a hearty Texas laugh, then pointed at a very short, stocky man who was holding a champagne glass in each hand while he gazed squarely into the cleavage of a tall redhead. “That’s Judge Deaver. Now, would you begrudge him that bubbly or those boobs?”
Sam chuckled along with her hostess, who laughed at all her own lines. Well, now, wasn’t this interesting?
“Maybe you’ll get to meet our daughter, Totsie,” Kay Kay was saying as she reached for another glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Or maybe not. She’s upstairs hiding.”
“The shy retiring type?”
“Hell, no. Totsie’s about as shy as I am. Even when she was a little bit of a thing, she was always leading cheers or twirling her baton or shooting her little rifle. She’s loud like me. Likes a lot of noise. Likes to be noticed, too. Her sole ambition in life is to be beamed into every living room in America—to be Jane Pauley. She’s
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