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Her legs had started to shake so badly she could barely jump down from the chair. She didn’t look around, didn’t seek out Torie and the rest of the Travelers to say the only good-byes that meant anything to her. Instead, she made a blind dash for the door.
Her last sight of the town she’d both loved and hated was a distant glimpse of the Pedernales River and the sign in her rearview mirror.
YOU ARE LEAVING
WYNETTE, TEXAS
Theodore Beaudine, Mayor
She let herself cry, racking sobs that shook her body and tears that blurred her vision. She gave into her grief because her heart was broken and because, once this trip was over, she was never going to cry again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A dark cloud had settled over Wynette. A tropical storm blew in from the Gulf, flooding the river and taking out the bridge on Comanche Road. The flu season started too early, and everybody’s kids got sick. A kitchen fire closed the Roustabout for three weeks, and the town’s only two garbage trucks broke down on the same day. While they were still reeling from all that, Kenny Traveler duck-hooked his drive on the eighteen hole at Whistling Straits and missed the cut in the PGA Championship. Worst of all, Ted Beaudine had resigned as mayor. Right when they needed him the most, he resigned. One week he was in Denver; Albuquerque, the next. Chasing all over the country trying to help cities get off the grid instead of staying in Wynette where he belonged.
Nobody was happy. Before Haley Kittle set off for her freshman year at U.T., she sent out a mass e-mail with a detailed account of what she’d seen the day she’d come on Spencer Skipjack threatening Meg Koranda at the swimming hole behind the old Lutheran church. Once everybody knew the truth about what had taken place, they couldn’t in good conscience blame Ted for punching Spence. Sure, they wished it hadn’t happened, but Ted could hardly turn his back on the insults Spence was throwing out. One person after another tried to explain that to him on the few occasions he returned to town only to have him nod politely and hop on a plane the next day.
The Roustabout finally reopened, but even when Ted was around, he didn’t show up. Instead, a couple of people saw him hanging out at Cracker John’s, a shabby bar near the county line.
“He’s divorced us,” Kayla moaned to Zoey. “He’s divorced the whole town.”
“It’s our own damned fault,” Torie said. “We expected too much from him.”
Word had spread from various well-placed sources that Spence and Sunny had gone back to Indianapolis, where Sunny had buried herself in work and where Spence got shingles. Much to everyone’s shock, Spence had broken off negotiations with San Antonio. Word was, after being courted so vigorously by the people of Wynette, he’d lost interest in being a small fish in a big pond, and he’d given up his plans to build a golf resort anywhere.
With all the upheaval, people had almost forgotten about the Win a Weekend with Ted Beaudine contest until the library rebuilding committee reminded everybody the bidding closed at midnight on September 30.. That night, the committee gathered in Kayla’s first-floor home office to commemorate the occasion, as well as to show Kayla their appreciation for the way she’d continued to run the online contest even after her father cut off her bidding.
“We couldn’t have done this without you,” Zoey said, from the Hepplewhite settee opposite Kayla’s desk. “If we ever get the library reop
ened, we’re putting up a plaque in your honor.”
Kayla had recently redecorated the office with Liberty print fabric walls and neoclassic furniture, but Torie elected to sit on the floor. “Zoey wanted to hang the plaque in the children’s section,” she said, “but we voted to put it by the fashion shelves. We figured that’s where you’ll be spending most of your time.”
The others shot her a dirty look for reminding Kayla she’d be reading about fashion instead of setting trends at the boutique she’d always dreamed of owning. Torie hadn’t meant to be tactless, so she got up to refill Kayla’s mojito and admire the way her skin looked since her chemical peel.
“One minute to midnight,” Shelby chirped with false enthusiasm.
The real suspense had ended a month earlier when Sunny Skipjack had stopped bidding. For the past two weeks, the top bidder, at fourteen thousand five hundred dollars, was a TV reality star only the teenagers had ever heard of. The committee made Lady Emma break the news to Ted that it looked as though he’d be spending a weekend in San Francisco with a former stripper who’d specialized in turning over tarot cards with her butt cheeks. Ted had merely nodded and said she must have excellent muscle control, but Lady Emma said his eyes were empty, and she’d never seen him look so sad.
“Let’s count it down, just like New Year’s Eve,” Zoey said brightly.
And so they did. Watching the computer screen. Counting backward. At exactly midnight, Kayla hit the refresh button, and they all started to call out the name of the winner, only to fall silent as they saw that it wasn’t the butt-talented stripper at all, but . . .
“Meg Koranda?” A collective gasp went up, and then they all started talking at once.
“Meg won the contest?”
“Hit the button again, Kayla. That can’t be right.”
“Meg? How could it be Meg?”
But it was Meg, all right, and they couldn’t have been more shocked.
They talked for an hour, trying to figure it out. Every one of them missed her. Shelby had always admired the way Meg could anticipate what each of the women golfers might want to drink on any particular day. Kayla missed the profit Meg’s jewelry had brought in, along with Meg’s quirky fashion sense and the fact that nobody else would touch Torie’s castoffs. Zoey missed Meg’s sense of humor as well as the gossip she generated. Torie and Lady Emma simply missed her.
Despite the trouble she’d caused, they all agreed Meg had fit perfectly into the town. It was Birdie Kittle, however, who’d turned into Meg’s most outspoken advocate. “She could have had Haley arrested the way Ted wanted, but she stood up for her. Nobody else would have done that.”
Haley had told her mother and Birdie’s friends everything. “I’m going to keep seeing a counselor at school,” she’d said. “I want to learn how to respect myself better so nothing like that ever happens again.”
