agriculture students really cultivated in their experimental gardens.
“You two are a real couple of snoophounds,” I said. “I guess I’m going to have to watch myself in your presence.”
Thelma patted my arm with her cool, dry hand. “My dear child, your life isn’t interesting enough for us to get really excited about.”
“Well, pardon me. Maybe I should add a little vice to my life. Just for your sakes, of course.”
She smiled with small even teeth faded the color of old piano keys. “We’re working on it, dear heart.”
Fifteen minutes later, in the middle of a rather lame recording of “Stardust,” I was bending down and running a finger through the back of my pumps which felt two sizes smaller now, when Martha cleared her throat noisily.
“Your sweetie’s here,” she said.
Gabe stood at the entrance to the hall, eyes scanning the crowded room, looking both dignified and extremely sexy in his perfectly tailored gray suit. Sexy enough for me to almost forgive him for being late. Almost . Walking toward him, my legs wobbled slightly as the shoes bit into my feet.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” he asked in a sympathetic voice. “Got a rock in your hoof?”
“With the way I’m feeling right now, you’re risking your very life with that remark. Where have you been?”
“Sorry, got tied up with the sheriff on that new inter-county cooperative program we’re trying to hammer out. And he has muy grande marriage problems. He was on his third Coors when I pried myself away.”
“Well, at least you made it. We need to get the king and queen crowned and get everyone back to their rooms before they collapse.”
“How’d it go?”
“No major problems.” I turned and looked over the crowd. “Only thing I have to do is find the king now.”
“What about the queen?”
“That’s Martha Pickering, the chubby lady over by the refreshment table. Believe me, she’ll be there until the last tart is history. No, it’s just the king who’s my problem. In more ways than one.”
“What?”
“Brady O’Hara. I wrote about him in the note.” By the look on his face, I realized he either hadn’t read it or had forgotten what was in it. “Never mind.” I waved my hand impatiently. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I just want to get this over with and peel this dress off.”
“That sounds intriguing. Need any help?”
“Oh, grow up.”
“Now, Scarlett,” he said. “Let’s show a little of that famous Southern hospitality.” I glared at him and he held up his hands in defense. “Whoa, girl, just show me where I stand and I’ll get out of your hair.”
I considered showing him the back of my hand, but pointed instead at Tara’s porch.
He bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Cheer up, gringuita. It’s not even ten-thirty yet. The night is young. Think of the possibilities.” He touched a finger to my cheek.
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, limping toward the back of the room. “You don’t have a blister on your heel the size of a cantaloupe.”
I surveyed the crowd one last time hoping to spot Mr. O’Hara so I wouldn’t have to hunt any further, when Todd Simmons rushed past me.
“Hey!” I grabbed his arm. “Don’t get too far away. We’re crowning the king and queen soon and the Tribune said they particularly wanted a picture of that.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He clutched his Nikon to his chest and kept glancing over my shoulder.
“Have you seen Mr. O’Hara?” I asked.
“Uh, what does he look like?” Something behind me continued to hold his interest. I turned to look and saw the girl in the tight red dress who’d started the conga line.
“He’s wearing a greenish tweed coat and has a white mustache. He carries a highly dangerous cherry-wood cane.” Todd looked at me blankly, flipping the lens cover on the Nikon open and closed. “Never mind, I’ll find him. But
“You two are a real couple of snoophounds,” I said. “I guess I’m going to have to watch myself in your presence.”
Thelma patted my arm with her cool, dry hand. “My dear child, your life isn’t interesting enough for us to get really excited about.”
“Well, pardon me. Maybe I should add a little vice to my life. Just for your sakes, of course.”
She smiled with small even teeth faded the color of old piano keys. “We’re working on it, dear heart.”
Fifteen minutes later, in the middle of a rather lame recording of “Stardust,” I was bending down and running a finger through the back of my pumps which felt two sizes smaller now, when Martha cleared her throat noisily.
“Your sweetie’s here,” she said.
Gabe stood at the entrance to the hall, eyes scanning the crowded room, looking both dignified and extremely sexy in his perfectly tailored gray suit. Sexy enough for me to almost forgive him for being late. Almost . Walking toward him, my legs wobbled slightly as the shoes bit into my feet.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart,” he asked in a sympathetic voice. “Got a rock in your hoof?”
“With the way I’m feeling right now, you’re risking your very life with that remark. Where have you been?”
“Sorry, got tied up with the sheriff on that new inter-county cooperative program we’re trying to hammer out. And he has muy grande marriage problems. He was on his third Coors when I pried myself away.”
“Well, at least you made it. We need to get the king and queen crowned and get everyone back to their rooms before they collapse.”
“How’d it go?”
“No major problems.” I turned and looked over the crowd. “Only thing I have to do is find the king now.”
“What about the queen?”
“That’s Martha Pickering, the chubby lady over by the refreshment table. Believe me, she’ll be there until the last tart is history. No, it’s just the king who’s my problem. In more ways than one.”
“What?”
“Brady O’Hara. I wrote about him in the note.” By the look on his face, I realized he either hadn’t read it or had forgotten what was in it. “Never mind.” I waved my hand impatiently. “I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, I just want to get this over with and peel this dress off.”
“That sounds intriguing. Need any help?”
“Oh, grow up.”
“Now, Scarlett,” he said. “Let’s show a little of that famous Southern hospitality.” I glared at him and he held up his hands in defense. “Whoa, girl, just show me where I stand and I’ll get out of your hair.”
I considered showing him the back of my hand, but pointed instead at Tara’s porch.
He bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Cheer up, gringuita. It’s not even ten-thirty yet. The night is young. Think of the possibilities.” He touched a finger to my cheek.
“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, limping toward the back of the room. “You don’t have a blister on your heel the size of a cantaloupe.”
I surveyed the crowd one last time hoping to spot Mr. O’Hara so I wouldn’t have to hunt any further, when Todd Simmons rushed past me.
“Hey!” I grabbed his arm. “Don’t get too far away. We’re crowning the king and queen soon and the Tribune said they particularly wanted a picture of that.”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He clutched his Nikon to his chest and kept glancing over my shoulder.
“Have you seen Mr. O’Hara?” I asked.
“Uh, what does he look like?” Something behind me continued to hold his interest. I turned to look and saw the girl in the tight red dress who’d started the conga line.
“He’s wearing a greenish tweed coat and has a white mustache. He carries a highly dangerous cherry-wood cane.” Todd looked at me blankly, flipping the lens cover on the Nikon open and closed. “Never mind, I’ll find him. But
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