He abandoned his investigation of the ticket window. “Tell me about boycotting your father’s funeral.”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m a writer. I’m fascinated by the inner workings of the narcissistic mind.”
“I swan, all these big words are makin’ my lil ol’ head spin.”
“You were so intelligent.” He inspected one of the joists. “You had a fine brain, but you refused to use it for anything worthwhile.”
“There you go again, knocking the fashion magazines.”
“Skipping the funeral took gall, even for you.”
“I had a hair appointment that day.”
He waited, but she had no intention of telling him about that horrible year.
It had started out so well. She’d been the most popular freshman girl at Ole Miss, so caught up in the whirl of campus life she’d forgotten all about the Seawillows, ignoring their phone calls and standing them up when they drove over for a visit. Then one January morning Griffin had called to tell her that Diddie had died in the middle of the night from a cerebral hemorrhage. Sugar Beth had been inconsolable. She’d thought nothing worse could ever happen to her until, six weeks later, when Griffin announced that he was marrying his longtime mistress. He expected Sugar Beth to be in the front row of the church for the wedding. She’d screamed that she hated him, that she’d never set foot in Parrish again, and even though he’d threatened to disinherit her, she’d kept her word.
She’d spent his wedding day in bed with Darren Tharp, trying to numb her grief with bad sex. Not long after, when Griffin was disposing of Diddie’s things, he’d found Sugar Beth’s guilty confession. Within days, everyone had known what she’d done to Colin Byrne, and the people who’d merely disliked her before now hated her. The Seawillows, already hurt by the way she’d abandoned them, had never spoken to her again.
She’d had no chance to reconcile with her father. Right before her final exams, barely three months after his marriage, he’d suffered a fatal heart attack. Only then did she learn that he’d made good on his threat to disinherit her. In the space of five months, she’d lost her mother, her father, her best friends, and Frenchman’s Bride. She’d been too young to understand how many losses were yet to come.
“Is it true that you got married three days after they buried Griffin?” Byrne asked, with no particular display of interest in her answer.
“In my defense, I cried buckets through the ceremony.”
“Touching.”
She pulled the key from her pocket. “It’s been hilarious talking to you, but I need to lock up and get on with my day.”
“Manicure and massage?”
“Later. I have to find a job first.”
One bold, dark eyebrow angled upward. “A job? I’m incredulous.”
“I get bored if I have too much time on my hands.”
“The papers said Emmett Hooper died bankrupt, but I was certain you’d manage to come away with something.”
She thought of Gordon. “Oh, I did.”
He gazed around at the awful interior of the depot, then infuriated her by lifting one corner of his mouth in what she realized was a knife-thin smile. “You really are broke, aren’t you?”
“Only until I find the painting.”
“If you find the painting.”
“I will. You can count on it.” As she brushed past him and headed for the door, she had to force herself not to run. “Sorry you couldn’t stay longer.”
He took his time following her outside, the smile still hanging around the edges of that uncompromising mouth. “Let me make certain I’ve got this right. You’re actually going to have to work to support yourself?”
“I’m very good at it.” She twisted the lock with more force than necessary.
“Planning to wait tables again?”
“It’s honest work.” She headed for the car, trying not to look as if she were making a jailbreak. Just as she got there, he spoke from the steps of the depot.
“If you can’t find a job, come and see me. I might have something.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m going to do that, all right.” She jerked open the door, then spun back to confront him. “Unless you want our range war to get really ugly, you’d better have that chain off my driveway by nightfall.”
And didn’t that just entertain the heck out of him. “A threat, Sugar Beth?”
“You heard me.” She threw herself into the car and peeled off. As she glanced in her rearview mirror, she saw him leaning against the side of his shiny new Lexus, elegant, aloof, amused. Coldhearted bastard.
She stopped at the drugstore to buy a newspaper and met up with Cubby Bowmar at the register. He pocketed the change from a bottle of Gatorade. “Did you see my new van outside, Sugar Beth?”
“Afraid I missed it.”
“Carpet cleaning business is real good right now. Real good.”
He licked his lips and pressed her to join him again for a drink. She barely escaped with what was left of her virtue. Back in her car, she unfolded the paper over the steering wheel and checked the help-wanted ads. She wouldn’t have to work for long, she reminded herself, just until she found the painting. Then she was heading back to Houston.
Nobody needed a waitress, which was just as well, because the idea of serving hamburgers to all the people she’d once lorded it over turned her stomach. She circled three possibilities: a bakery, an insurance agency, and an antique shop, then headed home for a quick shower. A copy of the survey leaned against her front door. She flipped it open and saw that Colin had been right. The driveway belonged to Frenchman’s Bride.
Depressed, she showered, swiped on some mascara and lipstick, twisted her hair up, and slipped into the most conservative outfit she owned, an ancient Chanel skirt and a white T. She added a raspberry pink cardigan, pulled on nylons and a pair of boots, and set off. Since the insurance agency offered the best money, she decided to start there. Unfortunately, she found Laurie Ferguson sitting behind the hiring desk.
Sugar Beth had liked Laurie in school, and she couldn’t remember having done anything particularly despicable to her, but it didn’t take long to figure out Laurie had different memories.
“Why, Sugar Beth Carey, I heard you were back in town, but I never expected to see you here.” Her heavy hair was bright red now instead of brown, and her earrings were too big for her small, sharp features. She tapped an acrylic fingernail painted with a tiny American flag on the top of her desk. “You’re looking for a job. Imagine that.” She took a drag from her cigarette without inviting Sugar Beth to sit. “You have to understand. We can only hire someone who’s really serious about having a career.”
In Sugar Beth’s mind, a general clerical job wasn’t exactly a career, but she smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“And we need someone permanent. Are you planning to stay in Parrish?”
Sugar Beth had known this was coming, and despite the aversion she’d developed for playing fast and loose with the truth, she was forced to hedge. “You might have heard I have a house here now.”
“So you’re staying?”
The gleam of malice in Laurie’s eyes made Sugar Beth suspect her question had more to do with Laurie’s desire to feed the local gossip mill than to offer Sugar Beth a job. On the other hand, the idea of bossing around Griffin and Diddie’s daughter might hold just enough appeal for Laurie to come through with an offer, and the nearly empty bag of dog food sitting in the carriage house kitchen motivated Sugar Beth to respond politely. “I can’t promise to stay here until I’m dead and buried, but I plan to be around for a while.” For how long was anyone’s guess.
“I see.” Laurie shuffled a few papers, then gave Sugar Beth a smug smile. “You don’t mind taking our proficiency test, do you? I need to make sure you have the minimal skills we require in math and English.”
Sugar Beth could no longer hold her tongue. “I don’t mind at all. I’m especially good in math. But then, you must remember from all the times you copied my algebra homework.”
Thirty seconds later, Sugar Beth was on the sidewalk.