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“It’s been confusing. Meg did tell certain people she was in love with Ted, that’s true. But we assumed she was merely using him to get Spence to back off.”
Francesca’s green eyes widened with astonishment. “Why wouldn’t you believe she was in love with him?”
“Because she didn’t act like it,” Emma explained patiently. “I’ve never seen any woman, other than Torie, give him such a hard time. Meg doesn’t get starry-eyed around him or hang on to his every word. She openly disagrees with him.”
“She’s even smarter than I thought.” Francesca plowed a hand through her already unkempt hair. “He’s never had a woman give him trouble. It’s the novelty that’s attracting him.” She sagged onto the couch. “I hope she isn’t on drugs. It wouldn’t surprise me. The drug culture is everywhere in Hollywood.”
“I don’t think she’s on drugs, Francesca. And we did try to persuade her to leave. Sunny Skipjack doesn’t want any competition for Ted, and Spence dotes on his daughter. It’s getting too messy. We knew Meg didn’t have any money, so we offered her a check. Not our finest hour, I assure you. Anyway, she refused.”
“Of course she refused. Why take your paltry check when she has Ted and his money in her sights?”
“Meg might be a bit more complicated than that.”
“I’m sure she is!” Francesca retorted hotly. “Her own family has disowned her, and you can’t tell me that was done lightly.”
Emma knew she had to proceed carefully. Francesca was an intelligent, rational woman, except when it came to her son and husband. She loved both men ferociously, and she’d fight off armies to protect them, even if neither wanted her protection. “I know it might be difficult, but if you got to know her . . .”
Francesca grabbed a Star Wars figure that had been jabbing her in the hip and tossed it aside. “If anyone—and that includes my husband—thinks I’m going to stand by and watch that woman bewitch my son . . .” She blinked. Her shoulders collapsed, and all the energy seemed to seep out of her. “Why did this have to happen now?” she said softly.
Emma went over to sit next to her on the couch. “You’re still hoping Lucy will come back, aren’t you?”
Francesca rubbed her eyes. From the shadows underneath, it was obvious she hadn’t slept well. “Lucy didn’t return to Washington after she ran off,” she said.
“No?”
“I’ve talked to Nealy. We both think this is a positive sign. Being away from home, from her job and her friends, will give her the opportunity to come to a deeper understanding of herself and what she’s given up. You saw her with Ted. They loved each other. Love each other. And he refuses to talk about her. That tells you something, doesn’t it?”
“It’s been two months,” Emma said carefully. “That’s an awfully long time.”
Francesca was having none of it. “I want everything to stop.” She was up off the couch again, pacing. “Just long enough to give Lucy a chance to change her mind. Can you imagine if she finally returns to Wynette only to discover Ted’s having an affair with the woman she considers her best friend? It doesn’t bear thinking about.” She spun on Emma, lines of stubborn determination forming around her mouth. “And I’m not going to let it happen.”
Emma tried again. “Ted is quite capable of looking after himself. You mustn’t—you really mustn’t do anything rash.” She gave her friend a worried look, then headed for the kitchen to make tea. As she filled the kettle, she pondered one of Wynette’s most frequently recounted legends. According to local lore, Francesca had once flung a pair of four-carat diamonds into a gravel quarry to prove a point about how far she’d go to protect her son.
Meg had better take care.
,
The day after Meg’s encounter with Francesca Beaudine, she received a summons to report to the office. As she drove the drink cart past the pro shop, Ted and Sunny emerged. Sunny wore a short blue-and-yellow harlequin print golf skirt and a sleeveless polo with a diamond quatrefoil pendant nestled in the open neck. She looked well organized, confident, self-disciplined, and perfectly capable of bearing Ted a genius baby in the morning, then heading to the course for a quick nine holes.
Ted’s pale blue polo coordinated with hers. They both wore high-tech golf shoes, although he wore a ball cap instead of the yellow clip visor she slipped into her dark hair. Meg couldn’t help but think how completely at ease he seemed with this woman who was holding him for ransom in exchange for a golf resort and condo development.
Meg parked the cart and made her way through the club to the office of the assistant manager. Minutes later, she was leaning across his desk trying not to yell. “How can you fire me? Two weeks ago, you offered me a promotion to snack shop manager.” A promotion she’d turned down because she didn’t want to be stuck inside.
He tugged on his stupid pink necktie. “You’ve been running a private business from the drink cart.”
“I told you about it from the beginning. I made a bracelet for your mother!”
“It’s against club policy.”
“It wasn’t last week. What’s happened since then?”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Meg. My hands are tied. This has come down from the top.”
Meg’s thoughts raced. She wanted to ask him who was goi
ng to tell Spence she’d been fired? Or Ted? And what about the retirees who played every Tuesday morning and liked the way she kept coffee for them on the cart? Or the golfers who noticed that she never screwed up their drink orders?
But she didn’t say any of that.
