“Oh, come on, Abigail, you heard me.”
“With all the commotion, I forgot,” she said with a sweet smile and a small shrug.
He just stood there for a moment, and she hoped he was reconsidering allowing himself to be a puppet for whomever was pulling the strings. Not that it was too hard to guess who that would be. Mona, probably. Except that didn’t make any sense. Why would she want to put the Swinging R in the spotlight?
A sudden thought struck Abby. Viagra. Was Mona serious?
“Did you say you want to reopen the Swinging R?” she asked and received exactly the reaction she wanted.
While the audience issued a collective gasp, Herb’s cheeks colored with outrage, and he whipped off his tan Stetson and slapped the side of his leg with it. “Are you loco?”
She raised her brows in innocence. “I’m not really sure what you’re getting at.”
Herb glanced over his shoulder. Abby tried to see whom he was looking at but a row of silk trees in the back of the room blocked her view. When she moved her head slightly to the right, she saw him.
Max Bennett.
What the dickens did he have up his sleeve?
“Tell me exactly what you want, Herb.” Her patience was gone, the sharpness in her voice vibrating into the microphone and bouncing off the walls.
“Gosh darnit, you’re getting me all confused.”
“Why? Don’t you know what you want? Or maybe you’re speaking on someone else’s behalf? Mr. Bennett’s, perhaps? Did he ask you to do his dirty work for him?”
Herb started stammering, and regret pricked Abby for picking on him. She started to let him off the hook when Max stepped forward.
“That’s enough, Abby,” he said, holding her gaze. “I assure you I don’t know anything about this.”
The room grew absurdly quiet as everyone gawked at him. Then like dominoes, the younger women started putting their heads together and whispering. The older ones seemed to all turn their avid attention to Abby.
She cleared her throat, then gritted her teeth when the sound echoed through the microphone. “Fine. Then if there aren’t any more questions, we’ll wrap this evening up.”
“Come on, Abigail,” someone from the audience yelled. “Who is this guy?”
She’d brought this on herself, she realized with disgust, by trying to provoke poor Herb. Her only comfort was that Max looked about as happy as she was over this situation. “This is Maxwell Bennett. Mr. Bennett is Lily McIntyre’s nephew, and the new owner of the Swinging R.”
The silence lasted only a moment, and then the collective murmur grew to a roar. Obviously, few if anyone had seen Max before now, although how they could have missed him was beyond her. He was taller than almost anyone here, his shoulders definitely broader. He was only one of three men who wore a suit. Plus, he had green eyes.
Finally, Virgil Mayflower, who owned both the gas station and the general store, stood and approached Max with an extended hand. “Welcome to Bingo, son. We’re sure glad to see you.”
Max smiled and shook Virgil’s hand, but Abby could tell he was uncomfortable. No one else could possibly detect his unease, he was too polished, and it puzzled her that she was able to see it. She didn’t know him well enough, yet she had no doubt she was correct.
“You just get into town?” Virgil asked, stepping back to appraise Max, frowning as he slicked back his dark straight hair.
Virgil took pride in the fact that he was always the best-dressed man in Bingo, and generally he was, but his dark brown western-cut suit didn’t hold a candle to the custom Italian design Max wore.
“Yesterday.”
“Good, good. Glad you could make it tonight. Wish you’d spoken up sooner.”
Max swept a glance around the room. Everyone’s gaze was glued to him. “I leave tomorrow.”
“What?” Virgil reared back his head. “Then what did you decide to do with the Swinging R?”
“Don’t know yet.”
Abby smiled to herself. If Max thought he could get away with that answer, he was in for one heck of a surprise. Virgil was also the richest man in Bingo but he was always looking for ways to increase his business, and probably the only one who’d like to see the brothel restored to its glory days to provide more traffic through town.
“When are you gonna know?” Virgil demanded, his legendary impatience sharpening his tone. “That old place has been run-down for years. You look like you could afford to put quite a few bucks in the place.”
Max reacted with a bark of laughter. “You seem to have a strong opinion. Care to buy the place?”
Some people gasped, others laughed. Abby leaned on the podium, enjoying the fireworks and being off the hot-seat.
“Well, maybe I just might.” The telltale vein popped out along Virgil’s receding hairline. He was both angry and flustered, not a pretty combination for him.
“Ah, shut up, Virgil, and let the young man speak,” Mabel Salazar said, crossing her arms over her enormous bosom. “We all know you wouldn’t put a plug nickel into the place. You’re just interested in making money, not spending it.”
Other than a murmur or two, no one said anything. Virgil had both influence and a temper, and people didn’t like having to drive to the next town for groceries when he got steamed.
“Hey, Virgil.” Max surprised the older man by shaking his hand again, distracting him from the menacing look he was giving Mabel. “No hard feelings, huh? I had a rough flight, and I’m pretty tired. I’m still trying to decide what to do with the place.”
Virgil gave a grudging shrug, but he still looked peeved when he slid Mabel another look. “No problem.”
“If it’s not too much of an imposition, and if you have some time tomorrow morning, maybe we could have coffee and you could give me some ideas.”
The way Virgil’s chest suddenly puffed out was almost comical. “Sure, son, I can probably fit you into my schedule.”
“Terrific. I’ll call your office and check with your secretary.”
That startled laughs out of half the audience. Virgil had neither. He had a desk in his garage.
“If I’m not there my wife will know where I am,” he mumbled and went back to his table.
Abby silently shook her head. Amazing. Max had even charmed that old goat Virgil. But she’d eat her day planner if Max had any intention of giving Virgil’s opinion a passing thought. What the heck was he up to?
Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit. Maybe he’d just wanted to help defuse the situation. And maybe Candy’s new pet iguana would learn to fly.
“Sorry for the interruption.” Max gave her a slight bow of his head. “Abby.”
The way he’d said her name sent a shiver down her spine. It sounded entirely too familiar, intimate almost. And it wasn’t her imagination, judging by the exchange of knowing glances among the women.
She straightened and gave him a tight smile. “No harm done. We’re through here.” Her smile broadened for the audience. “Thank you all so much for coming.”
“Not so fast.”
Oh, no. Abby briefly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she watched Mona and her grandmother march toward the podium. Behind them, Mona dragged Herb, who’d slunk