“Jamaica?”
Amanda grinned. “Sally Hartsfield told me, swears that Margie Fontenot got the story direct from Laura, who used to work with you at Mac’s. Well, Laura’s cousin’s husband’s sister got the story started and that is good enough to keep the grapevine humming for a while.”
Direct was probably not the right word to describe that line of communication, but Andi knew all too well how the gossip chain worked in town. It was only mildly irritating to find out that she was now the most interesting link in that chain. For the moment.
But Jamaica? How did people come up with this stuff? she wondered, and only briefly considered taking her first vacation in years, if only to make that rumor true. Still, if she went to Jamaica, it would be a lot more fun if she could make the secret-lover part of the gossip true, too.
“Secret lover?” If only, she thought wistfully as an image of Mac rose up in her mind.
“Oooh. I like how your eyes got all shiny there for a second. Tells me there might be something to this particular rumor. Something you’d like to share with a pal? Wait.” Amanda held up one finger. “Gotta fill some coffee cups. Don’t go anywhere until I get back.”
While she was gone, Andi concentrated on the sounds and scents of the Royal Diner. Everything was so familiar; sitting there was like being wrapped up in a cozy blanket. Even when you knew that everyone in town was now talking about you. Royal had had plenty of things to chew over the past couple years. From the tornado to an actual sheikh working a revenge plot against Mac, local tongues had been kept wagging.
And the diner was gossip central—well, here and the Texas Cattleman’s Club. But since the club was limited to members only, Andi figured the diner was the big winner in the grapevine contest.
She looked around and pretended not to notice when other customers quickly shifted their gazes. The black-and-white-tile floor was spotless, the red vinyl booths and counter stools were shiny and clean, and the place, as always, was packed.
God, she hated knowing that mostly everyone in there was now talking and speculating about her. But short of burying her head in the sand or locking herself in her own house, there was no way to avoid any of it.
Amanda worked the counter while her sister, Pamela, and Ruby Fowler worked the tables. Conversations rose and fell like the tides, and the accompanying sounds of silverware against plates and the clink of glasses added a sort of background music to the pulse of life.
When Amanda finally came back, Andi mused, “Where did Laura come up with Jamaica, I wonder?”
“Nothing on the secret lover then?” Amanda asked.
Andi snorted. “Who has time for a lover?”
Amanda gave her a sympathetic look, reached out and patted her hand. “Honey, that’s so sad. You’ve got to make time.”
She would if she had the option of the lover she wanted. But since she didn’t, why bother with anyone else? “How can I when I’m going to Jamaica? But again, why Jamaica?”
“Maybe wishful thinking,” Amanda said with a shrug, leaning down to brace folded arms on the counter. “Heaven knows, lying on a beach having somebody bring me lovely alcoholic drinks while I cuddle with my honey sounds pretty good to me most days.”
“Okay, sounds pretty good to me, too,” Andi said. If she had a honey. “Instead, I’m headed home to start painting.”
Amanda straightened up. “You’re planning on painting your place on your own? It’ll take you weeks.”
“As the gossip chain informed you already,” she said wryly, “I’m unemployed, so I’ve got some time.”
“Well,” Amanda said, walking to the register to ring up Andi’s bill, “using that time to paint rather than find yourself that secret lover seems a waste to me. And, if you change your mind, there’s any number of kids around town who would paint for you. Summer jobs are hard to come by in a small town.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks.” Andi paid, slung her purse over her shoulder and said, “Say hi to Nathan for me.”
“I’ll do that. And say hi to Jamaica for me.” Amanda gave her a wink, then went off to check on her customers again.
* * *
Several hours later, Andi knew she should have been tired. Instead, she was energized, and by the end of her first day as a free woman, the living room was painted a cool, rich green the color of the Texas hills in springtime. It would need another coat, but even now she saw the potential and loved it. She had a sense of accomplishment, of simple satisfaction, which she hadn’t felt in far too long. Yes, she’d been successful in her career, but that was Mac’s business. His empire. This little farmhouse, abandoned for years, was all hers. And she was going to bring it back to life. Make it shine as it had to some long-gone family.
“And maybe by the time it’s whole and happy again, I will be, too,” she said.
“Talking to yourself?” a female voice said from the front porch. “Not a good sign.”
Andi spun around and grinned. “Violet! Come on in.”
Mac’s sister opened the screen door and let it slap closed behind her. Being nearly seven months pregnant hadn’t stopped Vi from dressing like the rancher she was. She wore a pale yellow T-shirt that clung to her rounded belly, a pair of faded blue jeans and the dusty brown boots she preferred to anything else.
Her auburn hair was pulled into a high ponytail at the back of her head and her clear green eyes swept the freshly painted walls in approval. When she looked back at Andi, she nodded. “Nice job. Really. Love the darker green as trim, too. Makes the whole thing pop.”
“Thanks.” Andi took another long look and sighed. “I’ll go over it again tomorrow. But I love it. This color makes the room feel cool, you know? And with summer coming...”
“It’s already hot,” Vi said. “You are getting air conditioning put in, right?”
“Oh, yeah. Called them at about eight this morning, as soon as the sun came up and started sizzling. They’re backed up, though, so it’ll be a week or two before they can come out here.”
“Well,” Vi said, walking into the kitchen as comfortably as she would at her own house. “If you start melting before then, you can come and stay with Rafe and me at the ranch.”
“Ah, yes,” Andi said, following her friend into her kitchen—which was comfortably stuck in the 1950s. “What a good time. I can be the third wheel with the newlyweds.”
“We don’t have sex in front of people, you know,” Vi told her with a laugh. “We tried, but the housekeeper Rafe hired disapproved.”
She stuck her head in the refrigerator, pulled out a pitcher of tea and sighed with pleasure. “Knew I could count on you to have tea all ready to go. You get glasses. Do you have any cookies?”
“Some Oreos.” They’d been friends for so long, they worked in tandem. “In the pantry.”
“Thank God.”
Laughing, Andi filled two glasses with ice, then poured each of them some tea as Vi hurried into the walk-in pantry and came back out already eating a cookie. She sighed, rolled her eyes and moaned, “God, these are so good.”
Still chuckling, Andi took a seat at the tiny table and watched her friend dig into the cookie bag for another. “Rafe still watching what you eat?”
Vi dropped into the chair opposite her, picked up her tea and took a long drink. “Like a hawk. He found my stash of Hershey’s bars, so they’re gone.” She ate