Beef Stolen-Off (10 page)

“I agree,” Jordan said, nodding. “So I guess I won’t be choosing this one for my bouquet. What’s the yellow stuff behind the oleander?”

“Saint-John’s-wort,” Karen said. “That’s my moneymaker.”

“They’re pretty enough to lift someone’s spirits just by looking at them,” Jordan commented before glancing once again at her watch. “I could spend the entire day here with all these colorful flowers, but I’d better wrap this up and get on my way.”

“Did you decide which flowers you want for your bouquet?” Karen asked, pulling a pair of snippers from her apron.

“I love the yellow roses at the front.”

Karen headed that way. “Then that’s what you’ll take home.”

Jordan started to follow, but both she and Karen stopped when Brenda Sue’s phone rang.

“It’s Marcus. I’ll just be a minute.” Brenda Sue turned her back to them and spoke so low, Jordan couldn’t make out what she was saying—not that she was eavesdropping.

A few minutes later, Brenda Sue faced Jordan, nervously biting her lower lip. “Marcus finished up his business in Fort Worth earlier than expected, and he’s on his way home.” She grabbed Jordan’s arm and gently pushed her to the door. “The next time you visit, we’ll spend more time with all these wonderful flowers, Jordan.”

After thanking both Karen and Brenda Sue, Jordan walked to her car, confused by the hostess’s abrupt dismissal. On the ride back to town, Jordan glanced down at the beautiful bouquet, hoping the flowers wouldn’t wilt before she found a vase for them. The day had been surprisingly pleasant, and she could see Brenda Sue becoming a good friend. The subject of Rusty’s death hadn’t come up, which was just as well. Jordan had already decided the relationship between them had been more than just friendship.

From what Carole Anne Summerville had said at the memorial service, Rusty had introduced her to Cooper and Brenda Sue to Marcus Taylor right before he ended his relationships with them. Jordan got the feeling that Rusty might have had a wee bit of a commitment problem. Setting up the women in his life with other men was one sure
way to get out from under the pressure if he’d been unwilling to give either of them what they’d obviously wanted.

But Jordan suspected things were not all rosy in the Taylor household, and she wondered if Rusty’s death had anything to do with it. She’d picked up on subtle signs, like Brenda Sue being so distant on the phone that morning and then acting like Jordan was her long-lost friend later when she’d arrived.

And she’d been the perfect hostess until that last phone call from her husband.

Talk about a one-eighty demeanor change!

What was up with that? Was she so jealous that she didn’t want any of her female friends around him? Or did she not want him to know Jordan had come to the ranch for a visit?

No matter the reason, after the call, Brenda Sue couldn’t get Jordan out the door and on her way back to town fast enough.

Jordan spotted the only available table at Mi Quesadilla the next day at lunch and quickly set her tray down to claim it. She hadn’t been back here since she’d first met Alex, and the memory made her insides tingle. It was probably the only time in her life she’d ever left chips and queso on the plate.

What was it that made a girl pretend to eat like a bird when there was a good-looking man nearby? Growing up with four brothers had taught her if you didn’t eat everything on your plate—and eat it quickly—there was a good chance someone would swipe it and shove it into their mouth before you could open yours to protest.

She and her siblings had inherited their mother’s metabolism. Unfortunately, Patrick, the oldest, was beginning to sprout a spare tire since he’d broken his ankle and had been unable to play pickup basketball for a few months. Thoughts
of her childhood in West Texas always made her homesick, although having Danny stay with her for a few weeks was probably more than enough of a brother fix for a while.

Jordan glanced at her watch to make sure she had enough time to sit and eat her lunch. She’d have to inhale it if she wanted to get back to the office in time. She’d stopped by Tomorrow’s Treasures to chitchat with Victor and had gotten caught up in his excitement over a shipment of antiques he’d purchased from across the Texas border in Durant, Oklahoma. Ever since he’d bought the store from his former boss, he’d gradually added inventory as his wallet allowed. This latest purchase came from an estate sale and, according to him, was a steal.

As she slid into a chair and reached for one of the tacos on her plate, Jordan spied a young woman she recognized from the
Ranchero Globe
. She remembered her name was Sandy because once when Brett, her ex, had called, the woman had rescued her by buzzing in and giving Jordan the perfect excuse to hang up.

In her early thirties, Sandy wore her short dark hair in an old-fashioned style. With her nondescript black slacks and a white blouse, she was the stereotypical girl next door.

When she caught Jordan staring, she made a vague effort to smile, but Jordan noticed tears streaming down her face before she closed her cell phone and glanced away.

Jordan picked up her tray and carried it over, feeling like she owed her a return gesture of some kind. “Mind if I join you?”

Sandy swiped at the tears. “I’m not much company today.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose.

Jordan flopped down across from her and took a long sip of her Diet Pepsi. “I’m Jordan McAllister.”

“I know who you are.”

“It looks like you could use some company. I’d like to return the favor.”

Sandy glanced up. “Favor?”

“Remember when you rescued me from a phone conversation I didn’t want to have?”

First confusion, then remembrance reflected on her face. “Oh, yes, I do remember.” She sniffed. “I’m usually more social, but I’m not having a great day.” Reaching across the table, she shook Jordan’s outstretched hand. “I’m Sandy Johnson, by the way.”

“You’re way more social than anyone else at the newspaper, Sandy,” Jordan said before she could stop herself. Her mom always said she needed a filter before she spoke.

But Sandy didn’t look annoyed at the obvious rip on her coworkers. “They’ll come around. Big-city girl with all your smarts coming to their neck of the woods scares them, I guess.”

“Big-city girl?” Jordan laughed. “I grew up in Amarillo in a house with two acres. We never even locked our doors at night. Does that sound like ‘big city’ to you?”

Sandy grinned, reaching for her lunch. “Guess not, but we all heard about how you were the sports reporter at UT. Most of us at the newspaper graduated from Grayson County College and will probably never work anywhere but the
Globe
.” She sipped her drink. “Guess everyone thinks you’re going to act high and mighty.”

“That’s interesting,” Jordan said. “Here I thought everyone avoided me like the plague just because I wasn’t a local.”

Sandy laughed out loud. “There is that. Ranchero is very cliquish.”

“Tell me about it. I—” Jordan stopped midsentence when Sandy’s phone rang.

After glancing at caller ID, Sandy put the phone in her purse. “No way I’m talking to that man again. He’s already ruined enough of my day.”

“Men have a way of doing that,” Jordan offered. She shoved one of her sopapillas across the table. “A little pastry with a lot of honey goes a long way in making you forget an annoying boyfriend, if only for a while.”

Sandy reached for the dessert. “It’s not a boyfriend.” She snorted. “I’ve just about given up on finding anyone in Ranchero who doesn’t still live with his mother.”

Jordan grinned. “You know what they say about men—that all the good ones are taken.”

“Or gay,” Sandy added. The smile faded when her phone rang again. “Dammit. I wish he’d leave me alone.”

Jordan leaned closer. “Anything I can help with? I grew up with four brothers, and I know how they think.”

“I appreciate the offer, but unless you have an extra three thousand bucks lying around, you can’t help.”

“Why do you need that kind of money?” Jordan asked before slapping her hand over her mouth. Where was that filter when she needed it? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so personal.”

“It’s all right,” Sandy said, blowing out a breath and glancing up to stop the lone tear from spilling down her cheek. “I have to pay the back taxes on my grandfather’s house.”

“Oh,” Jordan said. “Can’t your grandfather go to the bank and see about getting a loan or maybe even a second mortgage?” She thought of Alex and his cover as bank manager when he’d been in Ranchero. “There’s a possibility someone I know might be able to help.” The next time Alex called, she would ask him to contact the bank to plead Sandy’s case.

This time Sandy made no attempt to hide her tears. “My grandfather died about six months ago.”

Jordan reached across the table and grabbed Sandy’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I remember when my grandfather died. He was my hero.”

“Gramps was mine, too. Since my parents are missionaries and always traveling to who-knows-where, I spent a lot of time out at the lake with him. When he died he left the house to me, knowing how much I loved it out there in the woods so close to the water.” She sighed. “He named every single duck on the lake, and they still hang out on his dock even though he’s not there to feed them anymore.”

“Sounds wonderful. What a great place to go after a mad day at the newspaper.”

“I don’t live there,” Sandy said, a hint of sadness still in her voice. “I wish I did. Then I wouldn’t have an apartment in town, and I could start saving to pay off the county tax assessor before the city steals the lake house right out from under me.”

Jordan shrugged to hide her confusion. “So why don’t you just move out there?”

“I can’t.” Sandy bit her lip. “You’ll think I’m nuts if I tell you why.”

“Hey, I grew up with brothers, remember? I can handle anything after that.” Jordan scooted her chair closer to Sandy’s. “What on earth is keeping you from moving to a house you love, especially when that’s the only way you can save it?”

“It’s haunted.”

“Haunted? Like spooks and bumps in the night?”

“Exactly.”

Never having been one to believe in such things, Jordan had to resist the urge to make light of this. The last thing
she wanted was to give Sandy the impression she thought she really might be crazy. She’d finally found someone her own age who could actually turn out to be a friend—two, counting Brenda Sue. She didn’t want to blow it by coming across as judgmental.

“Why do you think it’s haunted?” she asked, thinking that going along with the idea might be the safest way to play this.

“I hear the ghosts at night.”

“Do they talk to you?” Jordan was beginning to worry about her new friend. What if she was like Sybil and heard people conversing in her head?

“They don’t talk, but they’re there. I hear them pounding.”

“Pounding what?”

Sandy shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t happen every night. The last time I spent the weekend out there, it only happened twice. I tried to brave it out, telling myself it was nothing, but I got spooked and went home immediately when I heard it the second time.”

“Could it be a neighbor working on a project or something? You know, maybe someone fixing a barn or a fence?”

“At three in the morning? No way. It’s ghosts. I’m sure.”

There was no doubt in Jordan’s mind that her new friend genuinely believed what she was saying. An idea formed in her head. “Do you play cards, Sandy?”

“I love cards. I used to play Texas Hold ’Em in college nearly every day. Why?”

Jordan thought about Lola and how she had convinced Lucas Santana, just by reading his tarot cards, that the beef market would rebound. Although Lola wasn’t a psychic, Jordan was sure she could help Sandy somehow.

“Can you come to my apartment on Friday night?” she asked, thinking ahead to the next Screw Your Neighbor potluck night. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Cooper, why are you calling me?” Jordan leaned back, knocking a stack of papers from her desk. Scrambling to retrieve them, she nearly fell out of the chair.

“The newspaper seemed like the easiest way to reach you.” He paused. “Personals? I thought you wrote the food column.”

“I do both,” she responded, anxious to find out why he was really calling and end this conversation. It was already Thursday, and she still hadn’t finished her post for this week’s Kitchen Kupboard.

“Two jobs, huh? I hope they pay you well.”

“What do you want, Cooper?” she asked, unable to hide the annoyance in her voice.

“Right to the point? Okay, then. I’m following up on that conversation we had at the Pavilion and calling to invite you to Beef Daddy’s for dinner tomorrow night. Afterward, you can swing by the warehouse on Greenville Avenue, and I’ll give you a tour of the facility.”

Spending time with Cooper was at the bottom of her list of fun ways to spend a Friday night. The man had flirted openly with her in front of his fiancée when she’d first met him. No way she’d chance one-on-one time with him, even though she loved Beef Daddy’s food.

“Thanks, but I spend Friday nights with my friends. Maybe some other time.”