A rousing cheer went up, followed by a mad dash toward the free drinks.
Skye got to her feet, saying to Trixie, “Want to come with me and talk to the mayor?”
“No, thanks.” Trixie started packing up. “I’d better head home.”
“Okay.” Skye hoped everything would be all right between Trixie and Owen. “Good luck.”
As Skye walked toward the grandstand, the straw that had been spread over the ground in an attempt to make the area look like the inside of a barn clung to her bare legs. She frowned. It was a good thing Rex hadn’t brought in cows and pigs for an even more authentic ambiance, or the sandals she was wearing would really have been a fashion mistake.
While Skye made her way through the crowd, she overheard the owner of the real estate agency saying to the people seated around him, “This could be exactly what Scumble River—heck, all of Stanley County—needs. We’ve been trying for years to get tourists off the highway and into our town to spend their money.”
A couple of steps later, Skye came upon Dr. Wraige, the school district superintendent, making a speech to several parents clustered in front of him. “Our school budgets are so far in the red they look like a Valentine’s Day card. Taylor’s plan will bring in businesses that will provide a tax base of which we are sorely in need. And as I always say to our students, if opportunity isn’t knocking, it’s time to build a door.”
The last group Skye passed before reaching her uncle was a bunch of eighteen- to twenty-year-olds. Several of them looked familiar, especially the girl leading the discussion. Xenia Craughwell wore the righteousness of youth and the irreverence of black nail polish.
Skye was well acquainted with Xenia, a high-IQ rebel who had barely made it through Scumble River High and now attended film school in Chicago. Xenia had raised an arm and was outlining a plan of attack to persuade Rex Taylor to include other types of music in addition to country, and to build a movie theater as well.
Skye pursed her lips. All three factions had good points, but she was still worried. She’d seen too many get- rich-quick schemes come and go. And she didn’t want her town or its citizens to be bamboozled.
CHAPTER 3
“Family Tradition”
When Skye finally made it through the crowd and reached the grandstand, she saw the mayor hurrying away with Rex Taylor. She started to follow the two men, but stopped after only a few steps. Maybe it would be better to talk to her uncle another time—alone. The mayor tended to bluster a tiny bit less, and tell the truth a tiny bit more, when he wasn’t playing to the balcony. For Dante, all the world was a stage, and he didn’t care where the audience sat.
As Skye hesitated, a soft voice near her hip asked, “Did you need to speak to your uncle, dear?”
“Not really.” Skye leaned down and kissed her aunt’s paper-soft cheek. Olive smelled of old-fashioned face powder and attar of roses.
“He’ll be right back.” Olive sat rigidly, as if she had a metal rod for a spine. Her short ash blond hair was sprayed into a helmet so hard that NASA could use it for the next moonwalk. Her pale yellow shoes precisely matched the stripes in her dress and the purse leaning against her leg. Pearls adorned her ears, throat, and wrist.
“That’s okay, Aunt Olive.” Skye patted her aunt’s arm. “It wasn’t anything important. I was just a little curious about Mr. Taylor’s plans.”
Skye tried to back away, but her aunt gripped her hand. “Don’t go.” Olive had moved to Scumble River from Chicago as an eighteen-year-old bride, and nearly forty-five years later she still seemed ill at ease if she was left alone among the natives for too long. “Really, Dante won’t be a minute.” She peered anxiously over her shoulder.
“Do you need something, Aunt Olive?” Skye felt sorry for the fragile woman.
“No.” Olive pulled Skye down into Dante’s abandoned throne next to her own seat. “We never seem to get a chance to chat. I haven’t seen you since the Fourth of July picnic, and we hardly got to say more than a few words to each other there.”
“Family parties are a little overwhelming.” Skye yanked the footrest’s handle upward but returned it to its original locked position when she nearly tipped herself out of the chair. “How have you and Uncle Dante been?”
“Good.” Olive nodded at her own word as if trying to convince herself. “Everything’s fine with us. How are your brother and his new wife?”
Vince had shocked everyone by eloping to Las Vegas with Skye’s Alpha Sigma Alpha sorority sister Loretta Steiner. Skye knew that was her aunt’s real reason for their tete-a-tete. Even after a month, their marriage was a hot topic among the town’s gossips.
“Excellent.” Skye was happy to talk about her brother’s nuptials, especially if it kept the conversation away from her own stalled wedding plans. She and Wally were in limbo until his annulment came through.
Skye peeked at her watch and saw it was nearly nine thirty. She was supposed to meet Wally in a few minutes, but with the free booze still flowing, she doubted he’d be able to leave anytime soon. The number of officers required to keep the peace was directly proportional to the amount of beer consumed.
“Your mother said they’re planning to live in town and Loretta will commute to the city.” Olive’s expression was doubtful. “Can that be right? I mean, it’s a good hour and a half one way.”
“Yes, Mom’s right.” Skye gazed intently into her aunt’s eyes, not wanting Olive to stir up the family. “They’ve already started looking at houses.”
“That’s what May said, but I wondered if it was just a pipe dream on her part.”
“Not at all. Since Loretta is a criminal defense attorney, she doesn’t need to be in her office every day. She can telecommute a lot of the time.”
“How modern.” Olive sounded slightly wistful as she added, “Though I think Vince might have enjoyed living in the city.”
“I guess.” Skye wrinkled her nose. “Then again, I think Vince enjoys himself wherever he is.”
“Well, it will certainly be interesting when we
Skye had cautioned her brother that eloping would open up a can of worms. It didn’t take much bait for their relatives to start gossiping. “Mom is planning a party for them around Christmas.”
“That’ll be nice. Although the holidays are such a busy time of year.” Olive leaned down and picked up her handbag. “And since we’re all eager to have a chance to get to know Loretta and her family, sooner would be better.” She unsnapped the gold clasp and rummaged inside. “We were certainly astonished when we heard that Vince was married.”
“I can understand that.” Skye chuckled. “No one thought he would ever settle down, since he was having such fun playing the field.”
“True.” Olive pulled a yellow lace-edged handkerchief from the depths of her pocketbook and dabbed her brow. “But we were more surprised by his choice of brides than by his tying the knot.”
“Oh?” Skye’s stomach tightened.
“Yes.” Olive replaced her hanky and took out a gold tube. “Loretta certainly wasn’t what we were expecting for Vince’s wife.”
“Why is that?” Skye’s voice had an edge to it. Loretta was African-American and Skye had been afraid some of the family might object to an interracial marriage. “She’s beautiful and intelligent.”
“I’m sure she is, dear.” Olive applied a fresh coat of dusty rose lipstick. “But perhaps a tad too sophisticated for Vince?”
“Huh?” Skye was relieved her aunt wasn’t referring to the color of Loretta’s skin, but had Olive just called Vince a hick?
“What she means,” an impatient male voice said, breaking into their conversation, “is that Vince likes them young, pretty, dumb, and agreeable, not mature, elegant, smart, and with a mind of their own.”
Dante had materialized in front of them like a malevolent poltergeist. He was short and stout, wearing a disgruntled expression and a black denim leisure suit that had gone out of style forty years ago.
Skye forced a pleasant smile and said, “Vince has changed—grown up.”
