People Will Talk (2 page)

After seeing Chessie settled, Nora paid Bret
for a month's stabling. Relieved to have the horse settled, she
nearly jumped when Bret reached out and captured her
hand.

"Don't you think we ought to shake on it ... or
something," he murmured, a wicked grin playing at the corners of
his mouth.

Her hand felt lost in his, surrounded and
suddenly sensitive.

"Of course," Nora lifted her eyes to meet his,
a bolt of sexual attraction shooting through her. "I really
appreciate your stabling Chessie for me."

"No problem."

"Well," she said breathlessly as she withdrew
her hand. "I guess I'd better get Hoyt's truck back to
him.

Bret's broad-shouldered figure became a
silhouette in her rearview mirror as Nora drove away. Turning on to
the blacktopped road, she tore her thoughts away from his
distracting presence.

When she left the house this morning, she'd
promised to meet her mother for lunch. Now she'd have to hurry or
she'd be late.

Nora dropped the truck and trailer off at the
feed store, retrieving her small Toyota to drive the short distance
to Maxine's Cafe.

Maxine's tables had long served the small town
of Stoneburg. Although the chain pancake house on the highway had
drained off some of its business, Maxine's still functioned as an
impromptu gathering spot for the town.

Parking the Toyota, Nora braced herself for her
mother's displeasure. There had been many lunches with Mother at
Maxine's. With her mother's ill health and habit of worrying, this
one boded to be as entertaining as a trip to the
dentist.

Nora searched for her mother as she let the
cafe's heavy glass door close behind her. From the white
gold-flecked Formica to the constant noisy clatter, Maxine’s never
changed.

Spotting her mother, Nora wove her way through
the crowded tables. She'd hardly made it halfway through the crowd
when she realized her progress was being monitored.

At the large round table in the corner, every
eye seemed glued to her. Nora looked straight ahead and tried to
keep from gritting her teeth.

The censorious stares were difficult to ignore,
though, particularly since they came from women she'd known most of
her life: Mrs. Brady, the reverend's wife; Mrs. Callahan, the
mother of a school friend; Miss Thurman, the town librarian; Cissy
Burton, a girl Nora had gone to high school with; and of all
people, Wilma Worthington, Richard's mother.

She even saw Mrs. Turner, mother of the mayor
of Stoneburg, and owner of the Turner property, which would
hopefully be the future home of Nora's riding academy.

Suddenly conscious of her plain cotton shirt
and snug jeans, and how rumpled her hair probably looked, Nora
couldn't help hurrying to get past that table. As she edged by the
crowded space, not one woman uttered a greeting.

The cold silence followed Nora like muddy
footsteps.

If Nora had known of the dirty rumors she'd
face, she wouldn't have been so eager to come home. Although they'd
spent summers in the bigger city of Wichita Falls due to her
mother's uncertain health and social inclinations, Nora had always
considered Stoneburg home.

So she'd returned to the little Texas town
unawares, dismayed to discover that Richard's mother had heard a
very different story about the New Year's Eve fiasco.

Once Nora had arrived in town, the woman's
poisonous accusations seemed to spread like an onslaught of fire
ants. This was Nora’s first visit to Maxine's since returning, and
her reception left her feeling chilled.

Finally making it to her mother's table, Nora
slipped into a chair, feeling frustrated by the
situation.

"When I say twelve o'clock, I mean twelve
o'clock, Nora." Her mother's southern accent softened her
words.

"Sorry, Mother," Nora said automatically. She'd
learned long ago not to react angrily when her mother was upset.
Sharon Hampton had borne a lot in her life.

"I ordered the salad for you since you were
late." Her mother gestured to the plate of greens and chicken
salad.

"Thank you." Nora picked up her
fork.

"I suppose you've been out talking to people
about your ridiculous riding stable idea," her mother complained.
"I wish you'd consider my reputation."

"You were the one who originally had me take
riding lessons," Nora reminded, her voice mild.

"When you were twelve years old and needed help
with your posture," Sharon said with gentle reproof. "I never
intended you to own a stable and actually teach riding."

"I know, Mother." Nora took a bite of salad and
tried to ignore the hissing conversation from the table in the
corner.

"Your father didn't pay for you to have an
expensive education so you could end up mucking out
stables."

Nora sipped her tea. "A Fine Arts degree
doesn't go very far in today's job market."

"If you have to work, you could do something
more feminine. Miss Thurman has advertised for a librarian's
assistant."

Glancing involuntarily at the corner table,
Nora repressed an ironic smile. "I don't think Miss Thurman would
be interested in hiring me for the job."

"And whose fault is that?" her mother said in a
lowered voice. "I don't mean to criticize, Nora, but you handled
that situation with Richard as if you'd never been taught
better."

The chicken salad tasted like sawdust, but Nora
kept chewing. She fought the urge to ask her mother how her
upbringing was supposed to prepare her to deal with a
sixty-year-old man sliding his hand down the front of her dress
during an upscale cocktail party.

There didn't seem to be any acceptable way to
form the question, just as there was no acceptable way to announce
to the town gossips that she didn't deliberately seduce Richard's
boss.

''I'm just glad your father's not alive to
suffer this humiliation," Sharon Hampton complained tearfully,
ignoring her half-eaten salad.

Nora repressed the urge to utter an impatient
retort. She knew life hadn't turned out the way her mother planned.
Not only had her insurance agent husband died before retirement,
leaving her nearly penniless, but Sharon also suffered from a
variety of physical ailments that only added to her displeasure
with life.

“
It's not like I wanted all this
happen, Mother," " Nora pointed out as gently as she
could.

Sharon Hampton didn't respond, wiping at the
corner of her eye with the flutter of a pale pink
handkerchief.

Regret tugged at Nora. Even as a child she'd
hated adding to her mother's disappointments. Now, they only had
each other. Part of the reason Nora had come home to Stoneburg was
her mother's tearful refusal to sell the house she'd first lived in
as a young married woman.

After all those summers spent chasing a gay
social whirl in Wichita Falls, Stoneburg was apparently home to
her, too. The house and Nora's meager trust fund enabled them to
get by, but now her mother had to face the stigma of Nora's
disgrace.

The situation was incredibly unfair. The voices
at the ladies' table behind Nora seemed to grow louder. Reaching
across the table, Nora covered her mother's fragile hand with her
own.

"Everything will be all right. With nothing
else to feed it, the talk will die down eventually."

"I certainly hope so, Nora," her mother
replied, her voice trembling. "For both our sakes."

Drawing her hand slowly from Nora's clasp, she
picked up her small handbag. "I have a hairdresser's appointment,
honey. You stay and finish your lunch."

Nora sadly watched her mother preparing to
leave. She knew that Sharon's moments of anger stemmed more from
embarrassment than from a lack of concern for her
daughter.

"If you really want to redeem yourself," Sharon
said, lowering her voice again, "you'll find yourself a respectable
husband as quickly as possible."

"I don't think that's the answer," Nora said
steadily.

"Well, I guess you know best." Sharon picked up
her cardigan and left the cafe.

Nora stared numbly at her chicken salad,
swamped by a sudden urge to do someone bodily harm, preferably
Richard, and then his boss. The old lech hadn't even had the excuse
of being drunk when he pinned her against the counter in Richard's
North Dallas home and proceeded to investigate the contents of her
bra.

Still, violence wouldn't do her any good now.
The engagement to Richard was over and strangely enough, as the
shock was wearing off, Nora found herself relieved. They'd gone
together most of high school. Over the years, she'd become
accustomed to his presence in her life, never questioning whether
that was what she really wanted. Now Richard had taken the matter
out of her hands, and she found she didn't really miss
him.

It was a joy to be back home in Stoneburg. At
least, it was if she didn't glance around at the table behind
her.

Hopefully, the town gossips were only a small
portion of the population of Stoneburg. She'd just have to win over
the rest of the people-the ones who'd grown up steeped in Western
tradition, fiercely loyal to their style of
horsemanship.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite riding
teacher."

Nora jumped, startled by Bret Maddock's voice.
"You don't mind if I join you?" he asked, as he seated himself
across the table in the seat Sharon had just abandoned.

"No. No, of course not."

A murmur rose from the table in the corner.
Nora resisted the urge to look around, knowing that Bret's arrival
and his choice of seats had not gone unnoticed.

Tossing his hat on a chair, Bret smiled at her.
He carried a lot of voltage in that smile. Nora took a deep breath,
trying not to absorb its impact.

''I'm starved," he announced. "Why don't you
pour out your deepest secrets to distract me while I wait for my
burger."

Nora frowned. Her deepest secrets? What was he
up to?

"Okay," he conceded easily when she didn't
speak, "if it's too soon for secrets, how about telling me all
about your riding stable plans."

She tried to resist his lure, but he looked so
endearingly confident, sitting across from her, so dangerously
charming with his arms braced on the tabletop and his eyes fixed on
her face with complete attention.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a little too
confident?" she asked ruefully.

"All the time." He smiled again. "Is that gonna
be a problem?"

The noise in the cafe seemed suddenly distant,
the hum receding to leave them alone across the table. There was an
intentness in Bret's face, a look in his eyes that she'd never seen
directed at her before.

Please, Lord. Don't let Bret Maddock set his
sights on me. With his reckless charm and potent virility, he was
the last man she needed at this point.

Some women could grab hold of a comet and enjoy
the ride, but Nora wasn't one of them. Bruised from her run-in with
one man's selfish dishonesty, she didn't plan on exposing herself
to Bret's brand of unreliability.

"What’s the matter, Nora Elizabeth? Afraid I'm
going to set myself up in competition? Maybe I'll start riding in
those high boots and sissy pants."

Nora laughed, his teasing comment breaking some
of the tension. "I don't think there's much possibility of
that."

"Probably not," he agreed.

She just couldn't see Bret doing anything as
disciplined as riding English style. He'd been a hell-raiser since
grade school.

"Equitation isn't risky enough for you," Nora
said dryly.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" Bret leaned
forward, elbows propped on the table, his face alive with teasing
challenge.

"Nothing," she back-pedaled. "Nothing at
all."

"Now, Nora," he chided. "Come
clean."

"Well, you've been champion of the Montague
Riding Club annual race ten years in a row," she said, grabbing at
the first thing that entered her mind. "Rodeoing, bungee jumping,
stunt flying. From what I've heard you do pretty much anything that
involves risk to life and limb."

Bret smiled. "Now we're not going to listen to
gossip about each other, are we?"

His question stopped her heart for a moment.
Nora studied his face, unable to discern where he stood on the
matter of her scarlet reputation. He'd clearly heard about the
scandal.

"I hope not," she replied carefully. She didn't
plan on signing up for his merry-go-round of feminine
companionship, but she didn't plan to make an enemy of him,
either.

"We'll make a friendly pact," Bret offered,
raising his voice ever so slightly. "We'll tell each other our
worst sins before the gossips do."

He glanced at the table of women behind her and
back to Nora, winking. She couldn't help but laugh, although his
antics left a queasy feeling in her stomach. It was like waving a
red flag at an already irritated bull.