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Francesca’s vast, walk-in closet was one of Dallie’s favorite places, maybe because it reflected so many of his wife’s contradictions. The closet was both luxurious and homey, chaotic and well organized. It smelled of sweet spice. It testified to overindulgence and rock solid practicality. What the closet didn’t show was her grit, her generosity, or her loyalty to the people she loved.
“It’s never going to work, Francie,” he said as he stood in the doorway watching her pull a particularly fetching lace bra from one of the closet’s built-in drawers.
“Rubbish. Of course it will.” She shoved the bra back in the drawer as if it had personally offended her. That was all right with him because it left her standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of low-cut purplish lace panties. Whoever said a woman in her fifties couldn’t be sexy hadn’t seen Francesca Serritella Day Beaudine naked. Which he had. Many times. Including not half an hour ago when they’d been tangled up in their unmade bed.
She pulled out another bra that looked pretty much the same as the last one. “
I had to do something, Dallie. He’s wasting away.”
“He’s not wasting away. He’s reassessing. Even when he was a kid, he liked taking his time to think things over.”
“Rubbish.” Another bra met with her displeasure. “He’s had over a month. That’s long enough.”
The first time he’d seen Francie, she’d been stompin’ down the side of a Texas highway, dressed like a southern belle, mad as hell, and determined to hitch a ride with him and Skeet. It had turned out to be the luckiest day of his life. Still, he didn’t like letting her get too far ahead of him, and he pretended to inspect a nick on the doorjamb. “What did Lady Emma have to say about your little plan?”
Francie’s sudden fascination with a bright red bra that didn’t come close to matching her panties told him she hadn’t mentioned her plan to Lady Emma. She slipped on the bra. “Did I tell you Emma is trying to talk Kenny into renting an rv and driving around the country with the children for a few months? Homeschooling them while they’re on the road.”
“I don’t believe you did,” he replied. “Just like I don’t believe you told her you were going to set up an e-mail account in Meg’s name and make the winning bid in that stupid-ass contest. You knew she’d try to talk you out of it.”
She pulled a dress the same color as her eyes from a hanger. “Emma can be overly cautious.”
“Bull. Lady Emma is the only rational person in this town, and I’m including you, me, and our son.”
“I resent that. I have a great deal of common sense.”
“When it comes to business.”
She turned her back to him so he could pull up her zipper. “All right, then . . . You have a great deal of common sense.”
He brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed the soft skin beneath. “Not when it comes to my wife. That got wiped out the day I picked you up on that highway.”
She turned and gazed up at him, her lips parting, her eyes going all dewy. He could drown in those eyes. And, damn it, she knew that. “Stop trying to distract me.”
“Please, Dallie . . . I need your support. You know how I feel about Meg.”
“No, I don’t.” He zipped the dress. “Three months ago you hated her. In case you’ve forgotten, you tried to drive her out of town, and when that didn’t work, you did your best to humiliate her by making her wait on all your friends.”
“Not my finest hour.” She wrinkled her nose, then grew thoughtful. “She was magnificent, Dallie. You should have seen her. She didn’t bend an inch. Meg is . . . She’s rather splendid.”
“Yeah, well, you thought Lucy was rah-ther splendid, too, and look how that turned out.”
“Lucy is wonderful. But not for Ted. They’re too much alike. I’m surprised we didn’t see that as clearly as Meg did. Right from the beginning, she’s fit in here in ways Lucy could never quite manage.”
“Because Lucy’s too levelheaded. And we both know that ‘fitting in’ isn’t exactly a compliment when you’re talking about Wynette.”
“But when we’re talking about our son, it’s essential.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe Ted was in love with Meg. Dallie had thought so, but then he’d changed his mind when Ted had let her go as easily as he’d let Lucy go. Francie seemed sure, but she wanted grandbabies so much that she wasn’t objective. “You should have just given the library committee the money right from the beginning,” he said.
“You and I talked about that.”
“I know.” Experience had taught them that a few families, no matter how well off, couldn’t support a town. They’d learned to pick their causes, and this year, the expansion of the free clinic had won out over the library repairs.
“It’s only money,” said the woman who’d once lived on a jar of peanut butter and slept on the couch of a five-hundred-watt radio station in the middle of nowhere. “I don’t really need a new winter wardrobe. What I need is to have our son back.”
“He hasn’t gone anywhere.”
