need any help. You have my number.” She put her glasses back on, effectively ending the conversation. I got out of her car, and she drove away.
six
nora
The offices of Wyatt & Wyatt Counselors at Law were on New Braunfels Avenue in a former midcentury ranch rezoned for business like almost every other house along Lynchfield’s main thoroughfare. Holdouts were marked by the early-model Buicks and Oldsmobiles in the detached garages of houses that were struggling to retain respectability as age and infirmary caught up to the occupants.
My nemesis sat at the reception desk.
“Jamie Luke.”
“It’s Jamie McGuire now.”
“McGuire?”
“I married Trent McGuire.”
“Oh, right,” I said, barely stopping myself from saying I forgot. It was one of those local bits of news Emmadean had been feeding me for years. I couldn’t be expected to remember everything.
Jamie marrying Trent McGuire was still a shock. Trent had been one of the most annoying guys in our grade. Not athletic enough to play sports, not talented enough to be in theater and no interest in band, he’d been stuck in between groups. Friends with everyone but not fitting in with anyone, he tried to be the class clown but suffered from having a terrible sense of humor and an even worse delivery. Sophie and I had always liked him well enough (probably because he worshiped the ground we walked on) but Jamie and Tiffany had been relentless in their teasing. I couldn’t imagine what in the world would have made Jamie marry him. Hell, I couldn’t fathom why she would go out with him in the first place unless all her teasing had been a mask for a secret attraction.
“How’s Trent doing?”
“Good. You may have heard about our microbrewery?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Mockingbird Brewery. We started it a few years ago. He just signed a contract with HEB for his best-selling flavor. Toasted Pecan Porter?”
“Mmm. I’ll have to try it.”
“We’re hoping HEB will put him on the map.”
“The next Shiner, huh?”
“That’s the plan,” she said, with a small long-suffering sigh. “I’ll tell Trent to bring you a case.”
“Thanks, but I won’t be here long enough to drink a case of beer.”
“I’m sure you and Sophie can kill a case of beer while catching up. Or, are you two still not speaking?”
“We’re speaking.”
“Glad to hear it. You know, there were lots of rumors when you left.”
“Were there?”
She laughed, but I saw the calculation in her eyes. “Some of them were outrageous.”
“Are you going to let Charlie know I’m here?”
She glanced at the phone. “Charlie’s on a call. No one believed them. The rumors. When everyone found out about Sophie and Charlie, it all made sense.”
I turned away from Jamie, sat in the furthest chair possible. I placed the white plastic grocery bag I carried in my lap and took more interest in the office than I normally would have. When they’d converted the house, the decorator had decided to embrace the honey-colored oak paneling and fill the space with midcentury modern furniture with clean lines and muted colors. The photos on the wall were black-and-white shots of Hill Country landmarks—Enchanted Rock, Gruene Hall, LBJ’s homestead, the Guadalupe River (though it could have been any one of half a dozen in the area), Comanche Springs. Not one cowboy, I noticed. I smiled. “Did Sophie decorate the office?”
“She did,” Jamie said stiffly. “What’s in the bag?”
“Eggs. Do you want some chickens? They could be the brewery’s mascots.”
“It’s a mockingbird, not a chicken.”
For some reason I couldn’t figure, I was irritating Jamie, which only made me want to keep at it. “Chickens are very trendy, and the eggs are very colorful.”
“Maybe on the East Coast, but here they’re just chickens.”
“I won’t tell Patton you said that.”
“Who?”
“Patton. The chicken. She’s very sensitive.”
“You’ve named Ray’s chickens?”
“Well, yeah. Doesn’t everyone? MacArthur isn’t sensitive, of course. She’s a cocky little thing. She does lay the prettiest eggs, so I guess a little arrogance is expected. Ike watches it all from afar, above it all.”
“God, you’re so weird.”
“From you, Jamie, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
I’d had enough small-talk with Jamie McGuire, and my headache was returning. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, chanting peace, calm, silently to myself.
“What are you doing?”
I sighed and opened my eyes. “Trying to forget I’m in the same room as you.”
Jamie’s lip curled. “You know, the most outrageous rumor was the one no one dared say aloud.”
“Then it must not have been much of a rumor.”
“The unspoken ones are always the juiciest.”
“Should I come back another time, preferably