Venus in Blue Jeans (10 page)

Wonder grinned, breaking off a piece of croissant. “Ah, the centerpiece of the June social calendar. Liddy Brenner. Our local heroine. During the festival we all join to pay her homage.”

“So—” Cal sprawled back in the chair, “—how precisely do we pay her homage?”

“No, no, Idaho.” Wonder shook his head. “First you need to ask me who Liddy was and why she’s our local heroine.”

Cal sighed. Wonder was being his usual semi-annoying self, which meant this would take a while. “Okay, who was Liddy?”

“A myth,” Allie said flatly. She set a large, frosted bowl on the table in front of him and handed him a soupspoon. “I never heard of her until I moved here five years ago.”

Wonder shrugged. “Possibly mythical. It’s true that, although there were and are a lot of Brenners around here, no Liddys, Lydias or Alidas were recorded on the census records at the time. However, Texans have never let inconvenient fact interfere with juicy legend.”

“Juicy?” Cal took a bite of soup. It tasted of jalapeños and fresh tomatoes and lemon and cilantro. It was heavenly. This town was going to ruin him for eating anywhere else. “What was she, a madam?”

Wonder pressed his hand to his heart. “Bite your tongue, boy! The very idea! This is our town heroine we’re talking about. She may have been mythical, but she wasn’t a loose woman.”

Cal gritted his teeth. “Wonder, I know you’re enjoying the hell out of this, but could we just cut to the chase here?”

Allie handed Wonder a plate with two large, golden brown crescents that smelled of cinnamon. “Here. Cookies. Eat.”

She turned back to Cal, settling into a salmon-colored Adirondack chair on the other side of the table. “Liddy Brenner was supposedly a frontier wife and mother who lived about a mile west of where the town square is now. You hear lots of versions of the legend, but here’s what it boils down to. While her husband was off doing something manly, she was captured by some Comanches who brought her back to their village. When she got there she found the chief’s little boy was sick and she nursed him back to health. So the chief returned the favor, sent her back home and promised not to attack Konigsburg. That’s it.”

“Interesting.” Cal sipped the iced tea Allie had put next to his plate, tasting lime and mint. “I assume that the Konigsburg settlers weren’t well known for nursing Comanche children.”

Wonder snorted. “Probably the least believable part of the whole story. If Liddy Brenner had actually existed, she’d have shot first and asked questions later. Scratch that. She wouldn’t have asked any questions, period. But you haven’t heard the best part, the Margaret Hastings variation.”

Cal gave an involuntary shudder. “Margaret Hastings?”

“It’s Margaret’s festival, more or less, as she’ll be glad to point out. She got it going when she was president of the Konigsburg Merchants Association.” Wonder paused to chew a bite of his cookie with a blissful expression. “Anyway, the Hastings variation is that Liddy contracted whatever disease the chief’s kid had and, having done her part in nursing him back to health, promptly expired. With tearful farewells and benedictions to Konigsburg, of course.”

Allie gave him a mock frown, eyes dancing. “It’s a nice story. It doesn’t emphasize killing somebody or running them off their land. And the woman ends up being the hero. I like it, myself.”

Wonder bent from the waist. “I bow to your superior sensibility, Ms. Maldonado. It
is
a nice story, albeit corny as hell. It’s also a great excuse for a party.”

“So what goes on at this Festival?” Cal was trying to chase down the last drops of his gazpacho with his spoon, unwilling to let any of it go to waste. “What happens at the street dance?”

Wonder shrugged. “What do you think happens, Idaho? You dance, for Christ’s sake!”

“And you wear costumes.” Allie leaned forward to gather up the plates.

“Dancing? Costumes?” Cal had a sinking feeling in his gut. Next they’d be asking him to sing.

“Correction.” Wonder smirked. “The women wear costumes. A lot of them dress up like whatever the hell they think Liddy Brenner looked like. Usually involves a lot of lace and cameos. Very impractical for Texas in June.”

“And the men?”

Wonder looked him over through narrowed eyes. “I’d say what you’ve got on will pass for a costume of the male variety.”

Cal looked down—he always wore scrubs at the clinic. He’d already forgotten what he’d put on that morning. Jeans and a faded denim shirt. The usual. “That’s it?”

“Well, you can add a cowboy hat.” Wonder frowned slightly. “As long as it isn’t that one you wear when you’re working around the goats.”

“That’s the only one I have.”

“Then scratch the cowboy hat.” Wonder nodded decisively. “You want to attract women rather than repel them. Although in your case, it would probably take more than a little goat smell to scare them off.”

“You look fine, Cal.” Allie smiled. “Just wear something like that. All the other men will.”

Cal shook his head, remembering the costumes at the Lander, Iowa sesquicentennial. “You mean none of the men dress up for this?”

“Only politicians and exhibitionists.” Wonder shrugged. “Frequently the same person, of course.”

“You’ll like it.” Allie began stacking dishes from the table on a tray. “I’ll make sure Wonder Dentist here leaves you alone.”

The corners of Wonder’s mouth turned up in a slightly guarded smile. “I assume that means you’ll be accompanying me to the town soirée?”

“I assume it does.” Allie picked up the pile of plates and walked toward the doorway. Wonder bounded to his feet and opened the screen door for her, wearing one of the widest grins Cal had ever seen. Then he turned back. “Got a date for the street dance, Idaho, or was this just an idle chat?”

Cal crossed his arms across his chest, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle and petunias from Allie’s flowerpots. “I do believe I’ve got a date, Wonder. Assuming she doesn’t forget.”

Docia sat at her mama’s dinner table, thinking of Cal. He’d probably fit right in here. The ceiling in the formal dining room was high enough that he wouldn’t have to stoop, and the table was big enough to give him lots of legroom. She couldn’t remember where exactly Mama had picked it up. Either from a medieval European feasting hall or an East Texas bunkhouse.

The two of them were grouped at one end, of course, since sitting at opposite ends of the table would have meant yelling at each other across the length of the room.

The rays of the setting sun spread across the reddish Saltillo tile floor, warming the pink linen napkins and the everyday green Wedgewood. At least Mama hadn’t broken out the Limoges and the crystal. And she hadn’t killed a fatted calf. It hadn’t really been
that
long since Docia had been down to San Antonio.

“Docia.” Mama gave her a dark look, and Docia realized she’d missed something in the conversation.

“Yes, ma’am, sorry, what was that you said?”

“I asked about your kitty. Is he all right?”

“Oh.” Docia nodded. “Yes, he’s doing fine. That new vet I mentioned patched Nico up and sent him home. Janie’s looking after him for me tonight.”

Her mama raised an eyebrow. She was dressed in turquoise silk palazzo pants with a matching tunic from somebody famous—she looked good in a sort of upholstered way. Mama had mentioned the designer’s name, but it had been a long time since Docia had paid any attention to things like the name on a dress label.

“How old is this new vet? When did he get to town? Did you know him before your cat was shot?” Mama delivered her questions in rapid fire as she sliced through a piece of cheese.

Docia rolled her eyes. “Mama, cut it out. He’s a nice guy. I took him out to dinner to thank him. That’s the end of it.” In fact, she hoped she was lying about that last part, but she wasn’t about to let Mama orchestrate her love life.

“So you’re having a better time now? Going out to dinner and all?” Mama’s blue eyes were surprisingly shrewd. “Seems like you weren’t all that happy there in Konigsburg for a while.”

Docia rolled a bit of soft cheese into a ball between her fingers. “I’m perfectly happy. I’ve got the shop. And my friends. You know, Janie and Allie and, well, Lee and Ken.” She took a quick mental inventory. Yep, those were the only Konigsburgers she could count.

Mama gave her a dubious look. “Well, it’s nice you’ve got somebody up there, anyway.”

Lourdes, Mama’s cook for over twenty years, swung through the door from the kitchen. She glanced at the bowl of greens in her hands, narrowing her eyes. Docia had a feeling it wasn’t exactly Lourdes’ dinner of choice. “Are you ready for this, Mrs. Kent?”

“Yes, Lourdes.” Mama gave her a regal nod. “We surely are.”

Lourdes set the bowl down dismissively and then shrugged. “Let me know if you need anything else. I can still fix a real dinner if you want it.” She pushed through the kitchen door again.

Mama gave the bowl a disconsolate look of her own, and Docia shook her head. “Are you doing South Beach again? I thought I’d convinced you to go back to eating.”

“Docia, the Magnolia Ball is next month and I’m co-chair. I’ve got to fit into that damn Oscar de la Renta or Merrilee Gainer will never let me forget it.” Mama smoothed her hands over her helmet of white blonde hair, diamond rings flashing. The soft fabric of her turquoise tunic fell back from her hands, revealing creamy wrists.

“Mama, you’re almost as tall as I am. Your weight is perfect for your size and your age.” Docia emptied a large portion of salad onto her plate, then took a quick bite. “I can’t believe you’re wasting Lourdes’ time with this. The woman’s a born cook, and you’ve got her doing stuff you could get at some fast-food joint.”

Mama shook her head. “Don’t start, darlin’. Let’s just agree to disagree. I think you look terrific, by the way. I bet that new vet is just panting at your heels.”

Docia took a deep breath. Mama never gave up easily. “He’s a nice man.” Docia kept her voice neutral. “How are things with you?”

Mama stabbed at her lettuce, then put her fork down. “Same as usual, I guess. Did Billy come see you?”

“No.” Docia could feel her shoulders tensing, as they always did when Mama mentioned her father. She kept her gaze on her salad.

Mama snorted. “That man! He promised me he’d go over to Konigsburg and check on you after your cat was shot. I’ll bet he forgot again.”

“It’s okay, Mama.” Docia took a couple of bites, then pushed the plate away from her. “I told you I didn’t want Daddy there, anyway. I don’t need his help on this.” Or on anything else, but telling Mama that wouldn’t make her stop trying.

Mama shook her head. “Docia, I’m tired to death of this…this
thing
between you two. Both of you are stubborn as the day is long. I want you to talk to your father. Just talk to him!”

“It won’t make any difference.” Docia could feel a dull ache in her jaw, a sure sign that she was grinding her teeth again. “Talking won’t make any difference. There’s no point in getting into it again. Please just let it go.”

“Both of you.” Her mother shook her head. “Both of you act like mules. Listen to me, Docia.” She leaned forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “I know you think your father made a mistake when he had Donnie investigated, but he thought he was helping you. And Donnie’s the one at fault, baby, not you or Billy. Just because one man might have caused you to make some bad decisions… Well, he took us all in, didn’t he? There’s no reason for you to hide out in Konigsburg. And as for your father and me, what happened between us is between us. It had nothing to do with you.”

“Mama, it’s not about you and Daddy and…everything.”
Everything
included a couple of snapshots of Daddy with Miss Dallas County on his lap that had appeared in
Texas Monthly,
but Docia figured that was Mama’s problem. “I’m not hiding out in Konigsburg. I’m running a business. On my own. Without Daddy paying my bills. I don’t want him there because I can’t talk to him anymore without getting into a fight. Ever since that whole thing with Donnie, Daddy’s had his back up. We just can’t talk anymore.”

“Nonsense,” her mother snapped. “Billy Kent could always talk to anybody. That man could talk his way into or out of anything.” Mama grimaced. “Or just about anything, anyway. And Donnie Branscombe might have wanted you to help him get his business going, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you too!”

“Mama, he used me to get people to invest in his development, and then he got me involved in it too. And he tried to get Daddy, or he tried to get me to get Daddy. When push comes to shove, I was a marketing strategy for him. He could tell everybody he was marrying Billy Kent’s daughter and that Billy Kent was investing in his projects. He might have had some feelings for me once upon a time, but Daddy was the one he was really interested in.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Docia’s throat tightened. She closed her eyes.
Damn damn damn damn damn!
Her mama was the only one who could do this to her and she did it every blessed time. Just because Mama could push her buttons, did that mean she always had to do it?

She heard Mama’s step beside her, and then strong arms enfolded her, just as they had when Docia was small—well, smaller anyway. Docia figured she’d never been exactly small by most measurements.