He took a large bite of the cornbread and nearly choked. His already florid face turned even redder and his broad nose was almost purple.
Alarmed, Dixie thumped him on the back as tears streamed from his eyes while I tried to remember exactly how the Heimlich maneuver goes.
Across the narrow table, a heavyset woman quickly thrust her open can of beer at him and Patterson drained it in three long gulps. When he finally caught his breath, he said, “Thanks, Kay. I owe you one for saving my taste buds.”
“I’ll take it out in trade tomorrow,” the woman said and turned her attention to the platter of ribs that was going fast as more people filled their blue plastic plates.
A look of dismay flashed across Patterson’s broad face, a look instantly replaced by his former joviality as he told Dixie and me, “Watch out for those chunks of red. Those aren’t pimientos. They’re red chiles and hotter’n hell.”
“Yummy,” said Dixie, reaching for a piece. “I love it hot.”
“So what happened to Savannah?” I prodded as Patterson mopped his face and streaming eyes with his handkerchief.
“Nobody knows,” said Dixie. “She was at the top of the pile and she just disappeared. One Market she was doing all the high-end projects, next Market, poof! Gone. Nada. She was always temperamental though. It wasn’t the first time. She was always popping off to Europe or South America for a few months. Was it five years ago she was gone for so long, Jay?”
“Six,” said Patterson. “I remember because it was right after she smashed her car and nearly killed Drew.”
“Everyone knows she’ll be back when her money runs out, but this time it’s been at least eighteen months.”
“Ah, here’s where you all are,” said an easy male voice.
It was Chan Nolan, my erstwhile cowboy. He might have been looking at me, but I had to assume he was speaking to Dixie since he now had his arm around a pretty little blonde who wore a dress cut low enough to be his dancehall queen.
Jay Patterson immediately took my hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Judge Knott. See you, Dixie. Drew, your mother could use some help in there.”
“Tell her I’ll be right back,” said the blonde.
Patterson gave a curt nod, then turned on his heel and was gone.
Chan Nolan gave a boyish grin and reached for a piece of cornbread. “Was it something I said?”
“More like something you did,” Dixie told him crisply. “Deborah, this is my son-in-law.”
4
« ^ » “
“We’ve met before,” Chan drawled.
Not wanting to go into all the circumstances of my misspent youth, I hastily said, “He and that blue ox just gave me a line dancing lesson.”
Chan raised an eyebrow, but mercifully took the hint. There was a battered tomcat sexiness to the smile that twitched the edge of his lips, a smile that meant he’d pursue the subject later if I knew anything about battered tomcats.
(And yeah, unfortunately, I do, having gone so far as to marry one once.)
The young woman hanging on his arm was Drew Patterson, who had her mother’s fair coloring and slender height and her father’s wide smile with only the merest hint of his broad nose. As she glanced from his face to mine and back again, I could almost see a hurt suspicion in her blue eyes, but she made a quick recovery.
“Dad’s still mad ’cause Jacaranda’s stealing the best vice president of sales in the business,” she told me after introductions were over.
Chan Nolan took a long pull on his beer. “Fitch and Patterson doesn’t have to worry about Jacaranda.”
“They’re moving into high end, aren’t they?”
“So?”
“Don’t be coy, Chan. You’ll be competing against us directly.”
Chan shrugged. “Fitch and Patterson doesn’t own high end.”
“But that infusion of Hong Kong money
Chan caught my eye and appealed to me for support. “You see how they gang up on me, Deborah? Like it’s my fault? Jacaranda’s going offshore and high end whether I’m there or not. So why shouldn’t I jump on a moving wagon?”
“What’s high end?” I asked. “And who or what is Jacaranda?”
“High end’s the luxury market,” he explained. “The best quality and most expensive furniture to make and sell.”
