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Kenny was in his early forties, tall, well built, as exceptionally good-looking in his way as Ted. Wynette definitely had more than its fair share of male stunners. Kenny took one of the beers Ted handed him and carried it over to the far side of the room, where he sat against the wall between the second and third windows. “What does it say about this town that we have to sneak away to have a private conversation?” he said as he popped the top.
“It says more about your nosy wife than about the town.” Ted sat next to him with his own beer.
“Lady Emma does like to know what’s going on.” The way Kenny caressed his wife’s name spoke volumes about his feelings for her. “She’s been on my ass ever since the wedding to spend more quality time with you. Thinks you need the solace of male friends and all that bullshit.”
“That’s Lady Emma for you.” Ted sipped his beer. “Did you ask her what she meant by quality time?”
“Afraid to hear her answer.”
“No question she’s real big on book clubs these days.”
“You should never have appointed her the town’s cultural director. You know how seriously she takes things like that.”
“You need to get her pregnant again. She doesn’t have as much energy when she’s pregnant.”
“Three kids is enough. Especially our kids.” Once again, his pride shone through his words.
The men drank in silence for a while. Meg allowed herself a flicker of hope. As long as they didn’t wander into the back where her clothes were scattered, this could still turn out all right for her.
“You think he’ll buy the land this time?” Kenny said.
“Hard to tell. Spencer Skipjack’s unpredictable. Six weeks ago he told us he’d decided on San Antone for sure, but now here he is again.”
Meg had overheard enough conversations to know Spencer Skipjack was the owner of Viceroy Industries, the giant plumbing company, and the man they were all counting on to build some kind of local upscale golf resort and condo complex that would attract both tourists and retirees and rescue the town from its economic doldrums. Apparently Wynette’s only decent-size industry was an electronics company partially owned by Kenny’s father, Warren Traveler. But one company wasn’t enough to sustain the local economy, and the town was in bad need of jobs along with a fresh source of revenue.
“We have to show Spence the time of his life tomorrow,” Ted said. “Let him see what his future’ll be like if he chooses Wynette. I’ll wait until dinner to get down to business—lay out the tax incentives, remind him of the bargain he’ll be getting on that land. You know the drill.”
“If only we had enough acreage at Windmill Creek to bulldoze the place and put the resort there.” The way Kenny said it suggested this was something they’d frequently discussed.
“It would be a lot cheaper to build, that’s for sure.” Ted set his beer can aside with a thud. “Torie wanted to play with us tomorrow, so I told her if I saw her anywhere near the club, I’d have her arrested.”
“That won’t stop her,” Kenny said, “and having my sister show up is the last thing we need. Spence knows he can’t outplay us, but he’d hate getting beat by a woman, and Torie’s short game is practically as good as mine.”
“Dex is going to tell Shelby she has to keep Torie away.”
Meg wondered if Dex was short for Dexter, the name that Ted’s love nest at the inn had been registered under.
Ted leaned against the wall. “As soon as I got wind of Torie’s plan to fill out our foursome, I made Dad fly back from New York.”
“That’ll definitely pump up Spence’s ego. Playing with the great Dallas Beaudine.” Meg detected a trace of petulance in Kenny’s tone, and apparently Ted did, too.
“Stop acting like a girl. You’re almost as famous as Dad.” Ted’s smile faded, and he dropped hi
s hands between his bent knees. “If we don’t pull this off, the town’s going to suffer in more ways than I want to think about.”
“It’s time you let people know exactly how serious the situation is.”
“They already do. But for now, I don’t want anybody saying it out loud.”
Another silence fell as the men finished their beers. Finally, Kenny stood to leave. “This isn’t your fault, Ted. Things were already in the crapper before you let yourself get elected mayor.”
“I know that.”
“You’re not a miracle worker. All you can do is give it your best effort.”
“You’ve been married to Lady Emma too long,” Ted grumbled. “You sound just like her. Next thing, you’ll be inviting me to join your damn book club.”
The men kept on like that, jabbing at each other as they made their way outside. Their voices faded. A car engine roared to life. Meg sagged back on her heels and let herself breathe.
