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  He took her arm out of his and dropped it. “No thank you.”

  “Well, then don’t blame me if you can’t get to sleep just thinking about what you turned down. And good night to you, Miss Branscum. Bet you sleep good tonight. Old folks usually don’t stay out this late. My mother says if she’s not in bed by ten she’s horrible the next day. Be seeing you, Rance. I’ll call next week and see if you’re busy.” She waved and disappeared around the corner of the Inn toward her black Bronco.

  Stella opened the door and stomped inside. Then as suddenly as the anger filled her soul, it disappeared and she felt like she was sitting on top of the world. So little Jewel had wanted her to believe she had been out with Rance? She bet Brannon Inn that she was lying by the look of exasperation and even desperation on his face. Stella couldn’t even be mad at her. After all what young girl wouldn’t like all that money and power?

  Rance grimaced. “Guess I owe you an apology. I’m sorry. She called me last week and wanted me to take her to dinner. I declined. Must have upset her.”

  “You might be passing over a wonderful opportunity.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek and kept her hands clasped behind her back. If she ever got close enough to hug him or if he kissed her on the mouth again, she feared she’d drag him up the stairs. “Well, thank you for a lovely day. And for a wonderful evening. We’ve both eaten our toad frogs tonight, so let’s go to bed and get some sleep.”

  He raised both eyebrows. “Together?”

  “No, sir. You wouldn’t want to sleep with an ancient old girl who might snore,” she threw over her shoulder as she unlocked the front door. “Us motherly figures have to get our rest you know.”

  “What was that about toad frogs? Why did we eat toad frogs?”

  “Granny said to get up every morning and eat a toad frog and the rest of the day would go wonderfully well. Well, we ate ours. Mine’s name is Joel and yours is Jewel. Maybe we should introduce them to each other.”

  He tipped an imaginary hat. “Sounds good to me. Good night, Miss Branscum.”

  She curtsied in the doorway. “Good night to you, Lance.”

  Chapter Seven

  Stella bundled up in a quilt her grandmother had made years before and kept a steady rhythm with her foot on the porch swing. She’d really run Rance off for sure. He’d never even hinted that he wanted more than a passing fancy so it was no surprise that he wasn’t interested in her soap box soliloquy about a future that stretched on for eternity.

  She heard the truck before it turned down her lane. That would be her sister, Maggie, and Lauren, coming to pave the way for the steam roller called Lucy Brannon who’d be out for blood today. She’d told them to wait until supper but that wasn’t Lucy’s style. She plowed right into everyone’s business and said exactly what she thought.

  When she looked up it was Rance getting out of the truck, shaking the legs of his dress slacks down over his boot and feathering back his dark hair with his fingers. Rance, all dressed up, took her breath away.

  “Hey, did you lock yourself out and have to sit on the porch all night?” He asked.

  “No, I’m here because I want to be, not because I have to be.”

  “Thought you might be in church this morning. I’m on my way home.”

  “Should have been but I overslept. Us old women do that sometimes.”

  “You go to the Baptist church in Sulphur?”

  “Yes, I do. Did you see Dee there?”

  “Saw a red haired woman named Roxie who said to tell you she missed you and to say hello, and her granddaughter . . . yes, that was Dee, and her husband, Jack. Met a lot more folks but those are the ones I remember. Guess it’s because they said to say hello to you. So here I am saying it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Who are Dee and Roxie?”

  She moved to the far end of the swing. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you.”

  “Come to lunch with me and tell me there.”

  “No thanks. I’ll be your friend and tell you the county secrets but I’m not going to lunch with you.”

  He sat down and waited.

  Stella gave him time to get comfortable and then started the history lesson. “Roxie married young and moved out here during the oil boom. Her husband died and she bought a big old house down the road, put in a bed and breakfast and called it Roxie’s B&B. Stood for bed and breakfast, but those of us who know her said it stood for bellyachin’s and blessin’s. She has a daily ritual and has a lemonade on the porch every day when the sun sets. She had a young daughter named Mimosa who’s about my mother’s age. She raised her in the bed and breakfast and eventually Mimosa ran away with a truck driver. When she gave birth to Tallulalah . . . we call her Tally . . . she brought her home for Roxie to raise. A few years later she had Dee . . . real name is Delylah . . . and did the same. Roxie said if she was raising the girls they had to be named Hooper so that’s why they have the same name as she does. Anyway, last year Dee’s husband, one of those damn Yankees, came home one day and kicked her out. His old love had returned and he wanted to be married to her so his mega-rich parents bought him an annulment. Dee came home and fell in love with the boy next door who is Jack. But before all that Tally eloped with a country music wannabe and moved to Nashville. She’s got the face and body to be one of those high powered singers but her voice is thin. Anyway, she had a baby girl and brought it home to Roxie. Little girl named Bodine. When she found out she couldn’t sing, she came home and she played around with one thing and another until she got into trouble for hot checks. Spent a year in county lock up for it and when she got out Roxie said she had to go to college. So she met a professor and they got married. Now they live in Tishomingo and Bodine loves it. Jack and Dee are expecting their first baby. And Mimosa is off with another truck driver. This one seems to be lasting longer than the rest. Roxie retired just before Granny Brannon died.”

  “That’s not a story. That’s a mini-series for television. Where’d they ever come up with names like that? Roxie looks like a Roxie all right, like the madam of a brothel. But Dee is just as sweet and pregnant as she can be. But Tallulah and Bodine. Not to mention Mimosa. Good Lord!”

  “Be careful. Dee would have your sorry hide tacked to the smoke house door if you called Roxie a madam. She took out a little girl in grade school for the same thing and she didn’t even know what a madam was back in those days. As for the rest of the names, I have no idea. Roxie and Granny Etta and my Granny Brannon were the self-crowned queens of the three original old bed and breakfast joints around here. They were competitive but best friends. Met about once a week for coffee and sent us girls out to play. I stayed with Granny Brannon most weekends. Dee lived with Roxie. And the third one, Roseanna Cahill, Etta’s granddaughter, lived on the same property with her granny so she was over at the lodge as much as she was in her own house. Granny Etta is talking about closing down the Cahill Lodge after this winter, so that will be the end of an era.”

  “Thank you for sharing all that. Don’t know that I’ll keep it all straight but when Roxie winks at me in church again, I’ll know some of the background. Does she always dress that flamboyant?”

  “Roxie, flamboyant? She’s just Roxie. She’s a true southern lady. Hats and gloves on Sunday. Keep your Caddy spotless. One drink a day. And as trashy as Dolly Parton,” she ended with a giggle.

  Rance joined in the laughter. “I believe it. Sure you don’t want to do lunch?”

  “Positive. I’m going to sit here a while longer then read a book all day.”

  “Then enjoy it,” Rance waved goodbye.

  A dark Blazer turned down the lane as Rance pulled away. She’d been right. Rance was not a lifetime thing, not one to ever jump over the hurdle of the ‘C’ word with her, but he might be a wonderful friend and neighbor.

  She waved at her niece, Lauren. She fought back a crazy tear forming somewhere in the pit of her aching heart. Achi
ng for what couldn’t be. Was she plumb goofy for ever thinking it could be possible? “Hey, girl. Come in and let’s have some cookies. Did you eat lunch after church?”

  Lauren nodded. “Ricky and I went to the Sonic but he had to go to work at one so I told Momma I was coming over here. Was that the devil with the horns and a pitchfork? He didn’t look like he was out to tear you up and spit your heart out in pieces.”

  Stella patted the other side of the swing in invitation. “Guess they weren’t impressed. So how was the date with Ricky? And church this morning and then lunch? Sounds pretty serious to me.”

  “Could be in ten years,” Lauren said seriously. “I like him a lot, but I’ve got a couple more years of high school then a long, long haul in med school. And Ricky has to finish this year in high school then he’s going to be a vet.”

  “Smart girl.”

  “Smart? It looks like forever on this end and sometimes it’s not so easy to be smart, not when you like someone as much as I like him.”

  “Need to talk girl stuff?”

  “Nope, just need to keep reminding myself to keep all these raging teenage hormones in check. That’s what Granny and mother say. That I’m the age when my hormones are raging and I need to be careful. It’s not easy though, is it Aunt Stella?”

  “Don’t matter what age you are, it’s never easy to tell yourself no when it wants something.”

  Lauren stood up. “What’s his name? They just called him a dark haired devil.”

  “His name is Rance Harper and he’s really a nice man. He’s just not interested in the same thing I am so it’s not going anywhere. I could really like him, but it’s not written in the stars. We’re on different planes and times,” Stella said.

  “Ricky is nice, too. You never know, Aunt Stella, what tomorrow holds. If you like him, it could work. Let’s do a Lethal Weapon marathon this afternoon. Cookies, popcorn and tea and good old Mel. By the time Momma and Granny get here, we’ll be ready to . . .”

  “. . . fight to the last draw,” Stella finished for her. “You watch the first one while I clean up a room and get ready for people coming in late tonight. I’ll join you for the rest or as much as we have time for before the cavalry arrives.”

  “You mean he didn’t sleep upstairs with you?” Lauren teased. “I figured he was already using his wicked ways to seduce you.”

  Stella shook her finger at Lauren. “No, he did not.”

  Once inside, Stella arranged cookies on a plate, poured the boiling water over the tea and took both to the coffee table. “It won’t take me long. Just have to put the finishing touches on the other rooms and clean one.”

  She opened the door to a faint whisper of the previous boarder’s shaving lotion. It wasn’t like the spicy scent Mitch wore or even that overpowering odor that preceded Joel into the room. It was a warm, woodsy smell: what Rance wore. She inhaled deeply and remembered his touch at the restaurant when he put his arm around her in the restaurant.

  Maybe he would call later.

  Probably not.

  His good-bye sounded pretty final.

  She pulled the covers from the bed, threw them in a pile on the floor and went to the hall linen closet for fresh ones. When she returned she noticed one of the pillows on the recliner. She picked it up, held it under her chin to strip the case off and got a nose full of the lingering cologne which brought a clearer vision of him.

  It might not be easy, like Lauren said, but she was a strong woman. If nothing else, Mitch had made her strong that fatal evening he waltzed into the living room and declared that she needed to pack and get out. When the first rays of dawn filtered through the windows the next day, she had a choice. Get on with life. Or go upstairs and use one of Mitch’s pistols. Really quit breathing. She chose living.

  She muttered as she jerked the clean sheets on the bed. “Why does everything remind me of Rance? Why am I attracted to men with dark hair and who act like they’re God’s gift to the whole female race?”

  It has nothing to do with what color his hair is or his eyes. Shut your eyes, Stella Sue Brannon. Don’t even think about his hair or the fact he resembles Mitch ever so slightly. Think about him . . . the person. Think about the way he makes you feel.

  She shut her eyes then snapped them open and attempted to push Rance from her mind as she finished cleaning the room. When she finished she found Lauren asleep on the couch; not snoring, but curled up in a ball with a pillow under her head and hugging another one like a long, lost brother. Lauren was her favorite. She was Maggie’s only child. Her brother, Martin, had two boys, Jim and Bob, and she loved them. Crystal, her oldest sister, had a daughter, Katy, who was only five years younger than Stella. They all lived in Virginia so Stella didn’t see them often.

  It was Lauren who stole Stella’s heart way back when Stella was only nine and Lauren was just a baby. It was Lauren who sat with her on the front porch that year she came back to Oklahoma, and without a word, gave her enough support to reopen the Brannon Inn. She sat down in a recliner and threw the lever on the side, propping up her feet and lazing back to watch the end of the first movie.

  Neither of them heard the front door open but when her mother sat the bowl down on the counter, Stella opened one eye. Surely it wasn’t supper time already. There was no way she could have slept through the whole afternoon without coming to even one final decision about what she would say if Rance did call again, but the clock said she was wrong. It really was five o’clock and her mother still looked like she could eat railroad ties and spit out Tinker Toys. Maggie had that smug little look on her face. The same one she had the day she came from Kansas after Stella moved back into the Inn. The “I told you so that sorry scoundrel has done just exactly what I told you and you know it and I knew anyone with all those looks could never be faithful, yadda yadda yadda,” look which spoke volumes.

  She nodded toward Lauren. “Hello. Don’t make so much noise, you’ll wake up the baby.”

  “She’s not a baby anymore, Stella,” Maggie said flatly. “But let her sleep. When we finish supper, I’ll make her a sandwich to eat on the way home. It’s going to be ten o’clock when we get home.”

  They took a seat at the kitchen table and waited. Stella pushed the foot of the recliner down and stood up, stretching all five feet ten inches of herself. She felt like she was sixteen again and late for a midnight curfew. Lucy and Maggie waited to save, sanctify and dehorn her. And when the mission was accomplished Maggie would drive away in her Bronco with a smile on her face. Younger, impulsive sister saved from a devil like her first husband; sanctified to live the life of a nun in Brannon Inn until she was old and wrinkled; and dehorned so that she would never again lust after the flesh of a well-built, good looking cowboy in tight fitting jeans and boots again.

  Stella suppressed a smile and meandered to the small breakfast table in the kitchen where the judge and one man jury awaited. “Chicken salad looks wonderful. I’ve got tea in the pot but it’s probably lukewarm. Iced tea is in the ‘fridge along with an assortment of soft drinks. What can I pour you?”

  “Dr. Pepper is fine.” Her mother quipped shortly and Maggie nodded.

  She opened the pantry and picked up two loaves of fresh bread. “White or wheat?”

  Lucy nodded toward a basket and pursed her lips. “Fresh rye. Remember I said I’d bring it.”

  “Wonderful,” Stella brought the basket to the table, along with three glasses on a tray. She went back to the refrigerator for ice, wishing she could figure out something else to prolong the conversation. She ought to tell them she and the devil-in-disguise had different views on life. She could watch relief baptize their faces and they’d all exchange whatever new gossip they’d heard.

  But what if she decided she wasn’t content with the simple good-bye and wanted to see him again? Then right now was the time to speak her piece even if it hare lipped both of them and caused them to stutter for the rest of their natural lives. It all boiled down to whether or not she re
ally wanted to bury the whole episode of Rance meets Stella. She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to make a snap decision and then have to eat her words.

  “Sit down, Stella. You know that we’re going to talk so stop procrastinating like your father.” Lucy said.

  “Why do you do that?” Stella asked. “Why do you always bring up my father when you’re angry with me?”

  She looked her tall, blue eyed daughter in the eye without blinking. “Because that’s when you act like him. When you don’t use the good sense the good Lord gave you to make decisions. Just like Dale Brannon. Always procrastinating and just letting things fall in your lap. Never looking ahead but grabbing what you want today.”

  Stella set her mouth in a firm line. She pulled out a chair and sat down gracefully. “Okay, your baby daughter is ready for her tongue lashing. You’ve got three hours. This idiot who lets people lead her around by the nose is expecting a family of twelve, arriving at eight o’clock and staying for three days. She has to finish the final touches for breakfast tomorrow morning before she goes to bed, so could you get on with this scolding?”

  Maggie pointed her finger. “Don’t you act like that. If we didn’t love you we wouldn’t care if you threw your life away with another loser again. For the love of mercy, Stella, he’s a replica of Mitch and you know what that man did to you.”

  “No, he is not. On first impression, because he has dark hair, you might think that. But give him a chance and me some credit. I’m twenty-six years old. I’m not a teenager anymore and I know a little about people.”

  Her mother slapped the table. “You thought you knew about Mitch. You knew him your whole life but he sure fooled you, didn’t he? You’ve only known this Rance a few weeks and there’s that crazy look in your eyes. Mitch was just like your father. He probably played around on you from day one and it just took all those years for you to find out. This one won’t be any different. Why are you drawn to men like that? Money won’t buy happiness.”