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“What’s a fancy-pants lawyer like you going to do with all your free time?” she asked, diving in. Had he chosen to leave his high-power, big-money job in Houston, or had something happened that made him leave?
“Well, you’re looking at a good portion of it.” He leaned back, long legs sprawled out in front of him. He sort of spilled out of the wooden chair, too big and broad for it. “The ranch won’t run itself, either. And the grocery and feed stores will need looking in on now and then.” He shrugged, glancing her way, then away.
When they’d been younger, that look meant he was holding out on her. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more?”
He shrugged again, smiling this time.
“As I live and breathe, a Boone and a Wallace sitting down and working together?” Miss Francis’s startled question caught her and Brody by surprise. “I’m all for ending the feud, but you might want to build up to it first. I just saw your folks parking out front, Brody.”
India’s stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. She’d grown up knowing the Wallaces were stubborn, mean-spirited people. But she’d never thought about Brody as one of them. He was just Brody.
“Cal,” she said, calling her son back to their booth—across from Brody and his girls. “We should order. I don’t want you up too late.”
Cal handed Amberleigh the crayon. “I’ll finish next time.” He stepped over Tanner and slid into the booth.
Amberleigh frowned but took the crayon. She slumped in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and huffed out a big sigh.
India tried her hardest not to laugh.
“India, you don’t have to—”
“She’s still wearing her clothes, Ramona. No need to worry,” Vic Wallace announced as he entered the Soda Shop. “Your mother was fretting the whole ride. Francis, why are you everywhere I look?”
“You’re just lucky, I guess,” Francis answered.
The man had aged. She had few memories of Vic Wallace. When she’d been little, she’d been scared of him. He’d been taller than her father, his fiery red hair making him appear all the more hot-tempered. Her father wasn’t a small man, but something about Mr. Wallace had seemed...looming. And when he got riled up, his red face would rival his red hair. Her father tended to make sure Vic Wallace’s face was blazing red before he walked away.
When Ramona Wallace glanced at their table, India did her best to appear absorbed in her menu. Like Cal. He read well enough for a five-year-old—he wouldn’t need help choosing his dinner. “Not getting the chicken fried steak?” she asked.
“Just seeing what else they have.” He grinned at her. “But I think I’ll go with the steak.”
“Sounds good,” India said.
“Done coloring?” Miss Francis was talking to Amberleigh.
Amberleigh had stopped coloring and was now peeling all the labels from her crayons. A shoe sat on the table, by the little girl’s fork.
“Amberleigh, put your shoe back on, sweetheart.” Mrs. Wallace was embarrassed more than anything.
The little girl picked up her shoe, tried to put it back on, then tossed it in frustration. The white slip-on went flying, landing on the floor in front of Tanner. Tanner sat up, glanced at the shoe, then Cal. It took every ounce of India’s control not to laugh. Brody was fighting the same battle. She saw it in those clear toffee eyes of his.
But the expressions on Ramona’s and Vic Wallace’s faces, on Miss Francis’s, were simply hilarious. She giggled, pressing her napkin to her mouth to stifle it.
Brody, she noticed, was clearing his throat behind her.
Cal studied the shoe, then Amberleigh. He slipped from the booth and picked up her s
hoe. “Lose your shoe?” he asked.
“She threw it, Cal,” Marilyn offered. “Don’t like them.”
“Hit your dog?” Suellen asked, hiding behind her napkin again.
“Nope. Tanner is fine,” he said, slipping from his seat and walking to Amberleigh. “Want it?”
Amberleigh shook her head, but there were tears in the little girl’s eyes. And India couldn’t stop herself from joining her son. “Want Cal to help you put it on?”
Amberleigh stared at her with wide hazel eyes. India could only imagine what was going on in that little head of hers. “Don’t like ’em,” Amberleigh announced.
