Valerie Lawson. She moved here from Houston about five years ago and has been wonderful to help with our charity functions. She bought the old McAlister place.”
Shades of life before Australia flashed in Tres’ mind. Valerie Lawson could be a clone of a half dozen women he had known in those years—a high-maintenance sort, with hair colored to perfection, spa-toned body, and a predatory glint in her eyes. Everything about her shouted money and privilege.
“Glad to finally meet you. Mattie Lou and I work on several committees together, so I feel like I already know you,” the blonde said.
Wanting to escape and knowing he couldn’t, Tres shook the hand Valerie offered. “May I fix you a drink?”
“Oh, my, yes.”
Turning to the others, he offered to fix drinks for them, and then busied himself preparing the various requests. He listened to the conversation flowing around him with a sense of having lived through this before and not wanting to do it again.
Bob Rayburn took the drink Tres had prepared. “How’s Casey getting along with therapy since you brought her to the ranch?”
“She’s making progress, but has a long way to go.”
“That young Jody Witten is home under his dad’s watchful eye. I heard Big Joe hired a tutor and physical trainer to whip that young hooligan into shape.”
Tres didn’t mention that the tutor and trainer were part of the conditions agreed upon for Jody to be placed in the custody of his father rather than go to prison.
“How about the mare? Did you have to put her down?” Bob asked.
“No, Doc Jones had done a good job with her. She is able to walk for a short time on her own, but still has to stay in a body swing part of the time to keep the weight off that front leg. She has to have lots of therapy, too, but we’re hoping, in time, we can breed her by artificial insemination. We all hate the idea that genes of such a remarkable animal might die out.”
Mattie Lou stepped between the two men and hooked her arms through theirs. “I knew the two of you would be talking horses. But now you have to come talk about fall festival activities with the rest of us.”
Bob’s gravelly laugh echoed off the walls as he patted Mattie Lou’s hand. “Tres, lad, we’ve been busted.”
Earlier Mattie Lou had told him he needed to take his proper place at the head of the table. When he hesitated, she’d said, “J.D. would expect it of you.” So, he sat at the head of the table while his grandmother beamed at him with approval from the other end.
Valerie sat to his right and Doris Peters to his left, insuring that dinner conversation did not revolve around ranch concerns.
Mattie Lou refused to let him be a spectator. “Tres, Valerie has offered a tour of her home for the fall festival this year. We’ll still have the tour at MacVane Manor since it is a tradition Mother and Daddy started long years before they passed. But people have been dying to see the renowned McAlister mansion since Valerie has refurbished it. This will be one more opportunity to fill the empty coffers of the indigent care program for the county.”
Placing one beautifully manicured hand on Tres’ sleeve, Valerie said, “Of course, the real attraction to bring people out will be the heir to the Spencer ranch. You know you’re the talk of the community.”
The muscles bunched in Tres’ arm. His desire to jerk it away from her possessive hand almost overrode his manners, but he kept still. This viper was Mattie Lou’s friend so he would endure, at least for now. “You probably better not put me down as one of the attractions. I’m not very dependable when it comes to social affairs.”
Laughing a little too loudly, Valerie persisted. “Surely you wouldn’t deny our generous people your presence.”
The maid serving salad broke the tension as she placed a monogrammed china plate laden with a crisp garden salad in Tres’ silver serving plate.
“Thanks, Lara,” Tres said to the maid,
Shades of life before Australia flashed in Tres’ mind. Valerie Lawson could be a clone of a half dozen women he had known in those years—a high-maintenance sort, with hair colored to perfection, spa-toned body, and a predatory glint in her eyes. Everything about her shouted money and privilege.
“Glad to finally meet you. Mattie Lou and I work on several committees together, so I feel like I already know you,” the blonde said.
Wanting to escape and knowing he couldn’t, Tres shook the hand Valerie offered. “May I fix you a drink?”
“Oh, my, yes.”
Turning to the others, he offered to fix drinks for them, and then busied himself preparing the various requests. He listened to the conversation flowing around him with a sense of having lived through this before and not wanting to do it again.
Bob Rayburn took the drink Tres had prepared. “How’s Casey getting along with therapy since you brought her to the ranch?”
“She’s making progress, but has a long way to go.”
“That young Jody Witten is home under his dad’s watchful eye. I heard Big Joe hired a tutor and physical trainer to whip that young hooligan into shape.”
Tres didn’t mention that the tutor and trainer were part of the conditions agreed upon for Jody to be placed in the custody of his father rather than go to prison.
“How about the mare? Did you have to put her down?” Bob asked.
“No, Doc Jones had done a good job with her. She is able to walk for a short time on her own, but still has to stay in a body swing part of the time to keep the weight off that front leg. She has to have lots of therapy, too, but we’re hoping, in time, we can breed her by artificial insemination. We all hate the idea that genes of such a remarkable animal might die out.”
Mattie Lou stepped between the two men and hooked her arms through theirs. “I knew the two of you would be talking horses. But now you have to come talk about fall festival activities with the rest of us.”
Bob’s gravelly laugh echoed off the walls as he patted Mattie Lou’s hand. “Tres, lad, we’ve been busted.”
Earlier Mattie Lou had told him he needed to take his proper place at the head of the table. When he hesitated, she’d said, “J.D. would expect it of you.” So, he sat at the head of the table while his grandmother beamed at him with approval from the other end.
Valerie sat to his right and Doris Peters to his left, insuring that dinner conversation did not revolve around ranch concerns.
Mattie Lou refused to let him be a spectator. “Tres, Valerie has offered a tour of her home for the fall festival this year. We’ll still have the tour at MacVane Manor since it is a tradition Mother and Daddy started long years before they passed. But people have been dying to see the renowned McAlister mansion since Valerie has refurbished it. This will be one more opportunity to fill the empty coffers of the indigent care program for the county.”
Placing one beautifully manicured hand on Tres’ sleeve, Valerie said, “Of course, the real attraction to bring people out will be the heir to the Spencer ranch. You know you’re the talk of the community.”
The muscles bunched in Tres’ arm. His desire to jerk it away from her possessive hand almost overrode his manners, but he kept still. This viper was Mattie Lou’s friend so he would endure, at least for now. “You probably better not put me down as one of the attractions. I’m not very dependable when it comes to social affairs.”
Laughing a little too loudly, Valerie persisted. “Surely you wouldn’t deny our generous people your presence.”
The maid serving salad broke the tension as she placed a monogrammed china plate laden with a crisp garden salad in Tres’ silver serving plate.
“Thanks, Lara,” Tres said to the maid,
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