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Before she could grab the dress and escape, the bell above the door to the shop chimed.
Tammy directed a broad smile at the person entering. “Hello, Misty,” Tammy said, then glanced at Ally with speculative interest.
Ally turned to see Misty Sanderson hovering in the doorway, looking as startled to see Ally, as Ally was to see her. Although they were the same age, Ally had never known the petite blonde very well, since rather than the public school in Tangleweed Ally had attended, Raymond Sanderson had sent his only daughter to a private boarding school in the east.
During Misty’s engagement to Cole, the two women had become friends but Ally loved her brother—warts and all—and she couldn’t forgive the blonde for the pain she’d caused him. So neither woman had seen the other since the breakup.
For a fleeting second, Ally thought Misty would ignore her now. But after the barest hesitation, Misty smiled briefly at Ally, then returned Tammy’s greeting with a casual hello.
“I’ve come to pick up that jacket I ordered. Has it come in yet?” Misty asked Tammy as she walked toward the counter.
“Oh, yes. It’s in the rear.” Tammy’s inquisitive gaze flicked from Misty’s face to Ally’s, before she added with obvious reluctance, “I’ll go get it.”
As soon as the sharp tippety-tip-tap of Tammy’s high heels faded in the back room, Misty turned to Ally, asking politely, “How are you, Ally?”
“I’m fine,” Ally responded in the same tone. “And you?”
“Doing great,” Misty said emphatically, widening her lips in a smile that didn’t quite reach her dark brown eyes. “I’ve been busy, what with—” Her smile faltered as she recognized the dress on the counter. “Oh! It’s your bridesmaid dress.” She looked at Ally, tilting her head questioningly. “Why did you bring it here?”
“I’m returning it,” Ally said bluntly, as she started to bundle the blue froth of material into her arms. Not bothering to soften her tone she added, “I don’t need it, after all, since there’s never going to be a wedding. Not between you and Cole, anyway.”
Misty stared at her while the tippety-tip-tap signaling Tammy’s return grew louder. Then suddenly her face crumpled. She whirled toward the door.
Shaken by the raw anguish in Misty’s eyes, Ally dropped her dress to chase after her. Misty sped outside and Ally reached the door just as Tammy called out, “Wait! Where y’all going?”
“To get coffee.”
She caught up with Misty in front of Virgil’s Hardware two stores away, and grasped the other girl’s arm to stop her, aghast at the sight of the tears on Misty’s cheeks. Misty had always appeared so sophisticated and in control to Ally. And smiling— Ally couldn’t remember a time when perky Misty had been sad or upset. But Misty was definitely upset now. Sobs shook her slender shoulders as she leaned against the hardware’s brick siding, tears seeping from beneath the trembling hand she’d lifted to cover her eyes.
Ally felt terrible. “I’m sorry, Misty,” she said softly. Not knowing what else to do and afraid Tammy would appear at any moment, she added, “Look, can we go someplace and talk? Have coffee?”
Misty hesitated, then nodded.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Ally steered the smaller girl toward the truck she’d parked a few yards away. Ally unlocked the passenger door for Misty to climb in, then went around to the driver’s side. Once inside, Ally rolled down her window to relieve some of the relentless heat, and Misty listlessly followed suit as Ally started the motor and put the truck in gear. They traveled the four blocks up Main Street to Daisy’s Diner, passing the Deer Processing Plant and the bank without exchanging a word.
When they reached the diner, Ally parked beneath a withered pecan growing by the curb. The shade of the tree was welcome, easing the heat, and for a minute or two after Ally cut the motor, the two sat while a hot breeze drifted through the cab, Misty cried, and Ally tried to decide what to do.
She glanced over as Misty sat up a little straighter to open the handbag in her lap. The blonde fumbled around inside, then pulled out a tissue to stem the tears still trickling from her eyes. It didn’t help; the tears kept coming, and the sight of her obvious distress finally shattered the reserve Ally’d been determined to maintain.
“If you still care so much, Misty,” she blurted out, “then why did you break up with him?”
“Is that what he said?” Misty whipped around to face her so fiercely that Ally shrank involuntarily against the door. “That I broke up with him? Because if he did, your brother is nothing but a liar!“
The door handle was gouging Ally’s back but she stayed put, alarmed by the hot flare of anger in Misty’s eyes. “Yes—well, no. Cole never talked about it. I just assumed—”
“You just assumed I was the kind of woman who would dump a man on a whim weeks before the wedding.” Misty’s lips quivered and she pressed them firmly together. “Well, I didn’t. I love—loved Cole with all my heart. There was nothing I wanted in this world more than to be his wife.”
The sorrow in Misty’s voice, the hopeless yearning in her face, was unmistakable.
Ally said helplessly, “But I know Cole loves you….”
“Apparently not.” Bitterness tainted Misty’s sweet Texas twang as she added, “Or at least, not enough to marry me.”
“But he does, I know he does,” Ally insisted. “I just don’t understand why he broke up with you.”
“Oh, don’t you? Well, his excuse was Troy O’Malley.” Misty blew her little nose defiantly. “He refused to believe me when I assured him there’s nothing at all romantic between Troy and me.”
She must have seen the doubt on Ally’s face because she added impatiently, “Yes, there’s a bond between us. After all, Troy’s father was killed in the same car accident as my mother, and that’s always been a tragedy we shared. And he had to go away to boarding school, too. In some respects Troy’s been—been like a brother to me. But there is nothing, never has been and never will be, anything romantic between us,” she said fiercely, meeting Ally’s glance with a burning brown gaze that refused to waver. “Believe me, because I’ve never meant anything more.”
“I believe you.” Ally did—concerning Misty’s feelings, anyway. But as to how Troy might feel about Misty.
“Thank you, Ally.” Misty smiled at her and, reaching over, gave Ally’s hand an impulsive squeeze. “I just wish that stubborn brother of yours had believed in me, too.”
“Maybe if you try again—”
“I refuse to take the blame for something I didn’t do. He refused to even listen to me. He’d made up his mind and that was that.” Determined pride lifted Misty’s chin, but hurt was clear in her eyes as she added, “Besides, like I said, Troy was just an excuse. What Cole really can’t tolerate is the fact that my daddy is rich.”
Ally drew a troubled breath, unable to deny that Misty was probably right. “Cole can be stubborn,” she admitted.
“No kidding.” Misty gave an unamused laugh and swiped rather savagely at the dampness lingering on her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m even crying over the mule-headed male. What’s past is past, and heaven knows, I have more important things to worry about like—-” Impulsively she turned to face Ally, her eyes glimmering with tears once more. “Oh, Ally, my daddy is sick. Really sick.”
Ally’s throat tightened in sympathy. “Is it his heart again?”
Misty nodded. “The doctors aren’t saying much, but—” She choked back a sob and gave Ally an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to blurt all this out. No one knows. It would hurt his business badly—our stock would plummet even more than it has. You know how it is …”
Ally nodded. She did know. Raymond Sanderson was his company. Without him, Sanderson Technology would most likely cease to exist. “I’m sorry.”
Misty forced a smile. “No, I’m sorry—about crying and all. It’s just, since I can’t talk to anyone about it, I guess I get scared sometimes and feel kind of alone—but Daddy will be fine,” she said stoutly. “I know he will.”
“I’m sure he will, too,” Ally agreed, with more certainty than she felt. “And you can talk to me anytime. Really. I promise I won’t say a word, not to anyone. But, Misty, if Cole knew you’re having trouble—”
“No!” Misty turned fierce again, her petite figure immediately stiffening. “If he didn’t want me before, I certainly don’t want his pity now.”
Ally understood how Misty felt. If Cole loved Misty—and Ally was sure he did—then it was up to him to reach out to her.
But she felt sorry for Misty. Losing a parent was hard at any time, but Misty was all alone. At least Ally had had her brothers. Especially Cole.
“I just don’t know what’s gotten into Cole lately,” she said, worrying aloud.
“What do you mean?” Misty asked, her dark eyes still bright from her tears.
Ally hadn’t intended to tell anyone about her plans to gain control of Bride’s Price. But her remorse at hurting Misty, her sympathy about Misty’s father and the knowledge that the other woman cared about Cole and had confided in her, had Ally explaining her own dilemma in return.
By the time she finished, Misty was wide-eyed with amazement. “You really intend to do it? Ask some guy to marry you?”
“What other choice do I have?”
“None, if Cole won’t budge—and I doubt that he will. But still … how long do you need to stay married?”
“I’m not sure,” Ally admitted. “Not long at all if Cole gives in, I suppose. If he doesn’t, then at least long enough for him to legally be removed as trustee for Bride’s Price. Whether that happens immediately upon the marriage, I don’t know. Do you?”
“Haven’t a clue,” Misty admitted.
Ally sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find out from a lawyer.
Before I do that, I want to line up some guy to help me out. Maybe, if he sees I’m serious, Cole will back down and I can save the lawyer’s fee.”
“Or Cole’ll convince the guy to back down,” Misty prophesied dryly. “Or one of your other brothers will. You have to admit, they can be formidable.”
“Yeah, but I’m hoping money might make the difference. I thought I’d offer some of the lease money Troy’s willing to pay as incentive to my prospective groom.”
Misty looked impressed. “That’s a good idea. Who are you thinking of asking?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe Dave Sarten.”
Misty shook her head. “He just got engaged to Pam Watkins. What about Jack Ryder?”
“He got a job managing a ranch up in South Dakota. Left last week. I was thinking maybe Travis Wesley …”
“Nope. He’s got a steady girlfriend in Abilene. Buck Boulter might do it, except—”
“He’s good friends with Cole,” Ally finished for her.
They lapsed into gloomy silence, staring out the bug-splattered windshield. The cab was hot and smelled like cigarettes, gasoline and rotting vegetables—not too overwhelming when driving, but not especially pleasant when sitting in the blazing sun.
Misty picked up a crumpled fast-food bag by her feet. She looked inside, and wrinkled her nose. “So that’s what stinks. These fries are just about petrified. Ally, your brothers—”
“I know,” Ally said glumly, batting at a fat fly that wandered in. “They’re all slobs.”
Misty tossed the bag over the seat. “You let them get away with too much. You need to—” She tensed, her eyes widening as she stared past Ally’s shoulder at someone across the street. “Hey, Ally! What about him?”
Ally turned and lifted her hand, shading her eyes against the sun as she studied the figure walking away. “Dwayne Cronk?” she asked doubtfully. “I guess, since he just bags groceries at the Piggly Wiggly he could probably use the money, but he always smells like cooked cabbage—”
“Not him—him! The guy who bought the Laundromat and turned it into that antique store! What’s his name? Tim? Tom?”
“Theodore—Theodore Bayor,” Ally told her, a vague memory surfacing. She squinted to read the fancy gold-and-black script scrawled on the store window across the street. “Of Bayor’s Antiques and Collectibles. What about him?”
Misty’s face shone with enthusiasm. “He’d be perfect! After all, he’s new in town, and Tammy told me that though the store’s been open two months now it isn’t making much—so he probably needs the money.”
Ally studied the man arranging a pair of silver candlesticks in the store’s front window. His face was hidden by a dark brown mustache and full beard, but judging by the thick, curly brown hair on his head and his athletic build—wide shoulders, lean hips—he appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. “Are you sure he isn’t married?”
“Tammy says he bought the store with an elderly woman named Mrs. Bayor—that must be his mother, over there.” Misty pointed out a plump, gray-haired woman about seventy or so in a dark dress, standing behind a counter. “Tammy told me they’re both from California. It’s just the two of them, so he’s obviously used to working with a woman and—Oh, hide! Quick! He’s looking this way!”
The girls ducked. Misty made the move with smooth grace, but Ally’s longer legs got in the way and she whacked her knee on the dashboard. “Ouch!”
“Shush!” Misty commanded.
They stayed slouched a few seconds in frozen silence. Then Ally said dryly, “Did we really need to hide?”
Misty gave a small chuckle. “I panicked,” she admitted. “But we don’t want him to see us sit back up—that might look suspicious.”
She glanced at Ally. “Anyway, like I was saying, if he’s used to working with his mother, he shouldn’t have any problem working with you. Here—” She groped around the floor and came up with the binoculars the boys kept in the truck. “Uck! They’re sticky,” she complained. She wiped the lenses gingerly with her crumpled tissue, then held them up to her eyes to take another look. “He’s not bad-looking. At least he doesn’t resemble his mother. Why, the poor woman’s three plucked hairs short of a unibrow. Take a look.”
She passed the glasses over, and Ally peered at Theodore’s mother. Misty was right; the woman’s thick, dark brows almost met over the bridge of her long nose.
“And,” Misty added, as Ally slunk back beneath the window’s edge, “he can’t be intimidated by your brothers, ‘cause he doesn’t know them.”
“He’s met Linc and Luke,” Ally pointed out. “Luke’s the one who mentioned him awhile back. He said the new guy is pretty good at pool, so I guess he plays Friday nights at Big Bob’s. They’ve never mentioned getting in a fight with him, though.”
“There you go!” Misty exclaimed, as if that clinched the matter. “What else do you need?”
Lifting the glasses, Ally chanced another peek. He was looking the other way, so she studied his face. He had thick dark hair and nice-enough eyes, she decided. Like Misty said, not bad looking at all, unlike his mother. Ally pointed the glasses Mrs. Bayor’s way—and found her glaring back.
“Damn!” Ally quickly ducked, guiltily dropping the binoculars. “I think his mother saw me.”
Misty checked. “No. She’s still cleaning.” She glanced at Ally. “So? What do you think?”
“He’s okay,” Ally admitted. “And, anyway, beggars can’t be choosers. Do you think I should just go in there and ask him now? Forget about getting dressed up?”
“No,” Misty said decisively. “Dressing up is always good. Besides, you don’t want to corner him, especially on his own territory—and with his mother watching, too. Better to approach him on neutral ground—like Big Bob’s bar on Friday!” she declared, beaming with sudden inspiration. Then she frowned. “No, wait, you said the twins hang out there.”
“They used to. They’re banned for fighting.”
“What about Kyle? Or … Cole?”
Hearing the diffident note in Misty’s tone, Ally assured her, “Cole never goes out.” Happy to see Misty’s tense expression ease, Ally added, “And Kyle’s been going to Abilene every weekend. He must be seeing someone there.”
Misty smiled, saying again, “There you go, then. We’ll get you dressed up in something so sexy, you won’t have to approach Theodore, he’ll come to you. And even if he doesn’t, we’ll shake someone out of the woodwork,” she added on a practical note.
Ally smiled wryly. That might be true for Misty, who even with mascara smudged beneath her eyes, tearstains smeared on her cheeks, and her designer blouse wrinkled, still looked feminine and sweet. Unlike Ally, who felt sweaty and worn-out from her sleepless night. And all her T-shirt was likely to attract was a tractor fanatic. “I don’t have anything sexy. And since Tammy won’t take the dress back—”
“Oh, pooh on Tammy” Misty said darkly. “She’s never getting my business again.” Apparently forgetting they were hiding, she straightened indignantly in her seat.
Ally slowly sat up, too. She glanced toward the antique store. Mrs. Bayor was staring directly at them. Misty saw her and waggled her fingers cheerfully. Ally waved tentatively, too. Mrs. Bayor scowled harder.
Ally hastily turned toward Misty, who’d opened her door to jump out of the truck. “Let’s get some coffee, collect your dress from Tammy, and then you can follow me to my house,” Misty suggested. “I’ll lend you an outfit that’ll be so smokin', the men at Big Bob’s will gather round you like Scouts at a campfire, eager for a weenie roast.”
Ally tried to protest. “Honestly, Misty, men never think I’m hot.”
“They will when I get through with you,” Misty promised. She wrinkled her nose ruefully, adding, “You’re taller than me, but we’re about the same size other than that, I think. I have a cute skirt you can borrow, and a darling blouse. And I have a wig you can borrow, too.”
“A wig?” Ally repeated doubtfully. “Won’t that make me look like I’m in a costume?”
“Not this wig,” Misty said confidently. “It cost almost as much as a small car. I wear it all the time when my hair won’t behave and no one knows it’s a wig at all.”
“Yeah, but you’re a blonde,” Ally said, feeling compelled to point out the obvious. “I’m a brunette.”
Misty airily waved that aside. “So you’ll be blonde for a night. Believe me, nothing alters a woman’s appearance more dramatically—or gathers more male attention—than changing your hair color.” She pondered for a moment, then amended, “Except, maybe, showing off your cleavage. Or your legs. Or your bottom in a tight skirt.” She nodded decisively. “And we’ll do all that, too. Or at least—” her engaging grin dawned ”—you will.”
