Chapter Four
T ed!” she tried to act as though he was the person she most wanted to see instead of her worst nightmare. “Have you joined the police force?”
“Doing a ride-along.” He propped his elbow on the roof of her car. As he took in her appearance, she got the impression that he didn’t like her cloche either—or anything else about her. “My schedule for the next two weeks suddenly opened up.”
“Ah.”
“So I hear you skipped out on your bill at the inn.”
“Me? No. A mistake. I didn’t—I was just taking a ride. Beautiful day. Skip out? No. They have my suitcase. How could I skip out?”
“I guess by getting in your car and driving off,” Ted said, as if he were the cop. “Where are you headed?”
“Nowhere. Exploring. I like to do that when I visit new places.”
“Best to pay your bill before you go off exploring.”
“You’re absolutely right. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll take care of it right away.” Except she couldn’t do that.
A truck roared by, heading into town, and another trickle of perspiration slipped between her breasts. She needed to throw herself on someone’s mercy, and it didn’t take long to make her choice. “Officer, could I talk to you privately?”
Ted shrugged and moved to the rear of the car. The officer scratched his chest. Meg caught her bottom lip between her teeth and lowered her voice. “See, the thing is . . . I made this stupid mistake. With all my traveling, my mail didn’t catch up with me, and that’s caused a small difficulty with my credit card. I’ll have to ask the inn to bill me. I don’t think it will be a problem.” She flushed with shame, and her throat closed so tight she could barely get out the words. “I’m sure you know who my parents are.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” The cop reared back his head, which sat on a short, squat neck. “Ted, looks like we’ve got a vagrant here.”
A vagrant ! She threw herself out of the car. “Now wait just a minute! I’m not a—”
“Stay right where you are, ma’am.” The cop’s hand went to his holster. Ted propped his foot on her rear bumper and watched with interest.
Meg spun on him. “Asking the inn to send me a bill doesn’t make me a vagrant!”
“Did you hear what I said, ma’am?” the cop barked out. “Back in the car.”
Before she had time to move, Ted approached again. “She’s not cooperating, Sheldon. I guess you’ll have to arrest her.”
“Arrest me?”
Ted looked vaguely sad about that, leading her to conclude that he had a sadistic streak. She jumped back into her car. Ted stepped away. “Sheldon, what do you say we follow Miz Koranda back to the inn so she can take care of her unfinished business?”
“Sure thing.” Officer Surly pointed down the road a few feet. “Turn around in that drive, ma’am. We’ll be right behind you.”
Ten minutes later, she was once again approaching the front desk of the Wynette Country Inn, but this time Ted Beaudine walked at her side while Officer Surly stopped by the door and spoke into the mike on his lapel.
The beautiful blond desk clerk sprang to attention as soon as she spotted Ted. Her lips curled in a wide smile. Even her hair seemed to perk up. At the same time she furrowed her brow with concern. “Hey there, Ted. How are you doing?”
“Just fine, Kayla. Yourself?” He had a way of lowering his chin when he smiled. Meg had watched him do it to Lucy at the rehearsal dinner. He didn’t drop it far, maybe only an inch, just enough to turn his smile into a curriculum vitae of clean living and honorable intentions. Now he was offering the identical smile he’d bestowed on Lucy to the desk clerk at the Wynette Inn. So much for his broken heart.
“No complaints,” Kayla said. “We’ve all been prayin’ for you.”
He didn’t look remotely like a man in need of prayer, but he nodded. “I appreciate it.”
Kayla tilted her head so that her sweep of shiny blond hair fell over one shoulder. “Why don’t you join Daddy and me for dinner at the club this weekend? You know what a good time you and Daddy always have.”
“Just might do that.”
They chatted for a few minutes about Daddy, the weather, and Ted’s mayoral responsibilities. Kayla pulled out all the stops, tossing her hair, batting her lashes, doing the Tyra Banks eye-thing, basically giving it everything she had. “We’ve all been talkin’ about that phone call you got yesterday. Everybody thought for sure Spencer Skipjack had forgotten about us. We can hardly believe Wynette’s back in the running. But I said all along you’d pull this off.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but it’s a long way from a done deal. Remember that up until last Friday, Spence was set on San Antone.”
“If anybody can convince him to change his mind and build in Wynette, it’s you. We sure do need the jobs.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Meg’s hopes that they’d continue their conversation were short-lived as Ted turned his attention back to her. “I understand Miz Koranda here owes you money. She seems to think she can work it out.”
“Oh, I hope so.”
The clerk didn’t look as though she hoped any such thing, and a panicky flush crept from Meg’s face to her chest. She licked her dry lips. “Maybe I could . . . speak to the manager.”
Ted seemed dubious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“She’ll have to,” Kayla said. “I’m only helping out today. This is way beyond the realm of my responsibilities.”
He smiled. “Oh, what the heck. We could all use a little day-brightener. Go on and get her.”
Officer Surly piped up from the door. “Ted, there’s been an accident out on Cemetery Road. Can you handle things here?”
“Sure thing, Sheldon. Anybody hurt?”
“Don’t think so.” He nodded toward Meg. “Walk her over to the station when you’re done.”
“Will do.”
Walk her over to the station? They really were going to arrest her?
The cop left, and Ted leaned against the desk, comfortable in the world that had crowned him king. She tightened her grip on her purse. “What did you mean when you said talking to the manager wasn’t a good idea?”
Ted gazed around the small, homey lobby and seemed satisfied with what he saw. “Just that she’s not exactly a member of your fan club.”
“But I’ve never met her.”
“Oh, you met her, all right. And from what I hear, it didn’t go well. Word is, she doesn’t appreciate your attitude toward Wynette . . . or toward me.”
The door behind the desk swung open, and a woman with woodpecker red hair and a turquoise knit suit emerged.
It was Birdie Kittle.
“Afternoon, Birdie,” Ted said as the inn’s owner came toward them, her short, fiery hair blazing against the neutral backdrop of the beige walls. “You’re lookin’ fine today.”
“Oh, Ted . . .” She appeared ready to cry. “I’m so sorry about the wedding. I don’t even know what to say.”
Most men would be mortified by all that pity flowing at them, but he didn’t seem even mildly embarrassed. “Things happen. I appreciate your concern.” He nodded toward Meg. “Sheldon stopped Miz Koranda here on the highway—fleeing the scene of the crime, so to speak. But there’s been an accident out on Cemetery Road, so he asked me to handle it. He doesn’t think anybody’s hurt.”
“We have too many accidents out there. Remember Jinny Morris’s daughter? We need to bulldoze that curve.”
“It sure would be nice, but you know as well as anybody what the budget’s like.”
“Things’ll be a lot better once you get us that golf resort. I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. The inn’ll pick up business from all the guests who want to play the golf course but don’t want to pay the resort’s room prices. Plus, I’ll finally be able to open up the tearoom and bookstore next door like I’ve always wanted. I’m thinkin’ of calling it the Sip ’N’ Browse.”
“Sounds good. But the resort is far from being sewed up.”
“It will be, Ted. You’ll make sure of it. We need those jobs so bad.”
Ted nodded, as if he had every confidence in the world he’d be able to deliver them.
Birdie finally turned her sparrow eyes on Meg. Her lids bore the lightest dusting of frosted copper shadow, and she looked even more unfriendly than during their confrontation in the ladies’ room. “I hear you didn’t get around to settling up your account before you took off.” She came around from behind the desk. “Maybe hotels in L.A. let their guests stay for free, but we’re not as sophisticated here in Wynette.”
“There was a mistake,” Meg said. “Silly, really. I thought the, uhm, Joriks were taking care of it. I mean, I assumed . . . I . . .” She was only making herself sound more incompetent.
Birdie crossed her arms over her breasts. “How do you intend to pay your bill, Miz Koranda?”
Meg reminded herself that she’d never have to see Ted Beaudine after today. “I—I can’t help but notice that you’re a very well dressed person. I have an incredible pair of earrings from the Sung dynasty in my suitcase. One of a kind. I bought them in Shanghai. They’re worth a lot more than four hundred dollars.” At least they were if she chose to believe the rickshaw driver. Which she did. “Would you be interested in barter?”
“I’m not into wearing other people’s castoffs. I guess that’s more an L.A. thing.”
Ruling out Ginger Rogers’s cloche.
Meg tried again. “The earrings really aren’t castoffs. They’re valuable pieces of antiquity.”
“Can you pay your bill or not, Miz Koranda?”
Meg tried to come up with a response but couldn’t.
“I guess that answers the question.” Ted gestured toward the desk phone. “Is there somebody you can call? I sure would hate to have to take you across the street.”
She didn’t believe him for a moment. He’d love nothing more than to book her himself. He’d probably even volunteer to do the strip search.
Bend over, Miz Koranda.
She shivered, and Ted offered up that slow smile, as if he’d read her mind.
Birdie displayed her first show of enthusiasm. “I have an idea. I’d be more than happy to talk to your father for you. Explain the situation.”
I’ll just bet you would. “Unfortunately, my father is out of reach right now.”
“Maybe Miz Koranda could work it off,” Ted said. “Didn’t I hear you were short a maid?”
“A maid?” Birdie said. “Oh, she’s way too sophisticated to clean hotel rooms.”
Meg swallowed hard. “I’d be . . . happy to help you out here.”
“You’d better think this through,” Ted said. “What are you paying, Birdie? Seven—seven-fifty an hour? Once Uncle Sam gets his share—and assuming she works a full shift—that’s a couple weeks’ work. I doubt Miz Koranda could handle cleaning bathrooms for that long.”
“You have no idea what Miz Koranda can handle,” Meg said, trying to look much tougher than she felt. “I’ve been on a cattle drive in Australia and hiked the Annapurna circuit in Nepal.” Only ten miles of it, but still . . .
Birdie lifted her penciled eyebrows and exchanged a look with Ted that they both seemed to understand. “Well . . . I do need a maid,” Birdie said. “But if you think you can work off your bill by loafing around, you’re in for an unhappy surprise.”
“I don’t think that at all.”
“All right, then. Do your job, and I won’t press charges. But if you try to skip out, you’ll find yourself in the Wynette City Jail.”
“Fair enough,” Ted said. “I only wish all disputes could be solved so peacefully. It’d be a better world, now wouldn’t it?”
“It sure would,” Birdie said. She turned her attention back to Meg and pointed toward the door behind the desk. “I’ll take you to meet Arlis Hoover, our head housekeeper. You’ll be working for her.”
“Arlis Hoover?” Ted said. “Damn, I forgot about that.”
“She was here when I took over the place,” Birdie said. “How could you forget?”
“I don’t know.” Ted dug a set of car keys from the pocket of his jeans. “I guess she’s just one of those people I try to put out of my mind.”
“Tell me about it,” Birdie muttered.
And with those ominous words, she led Meg from the lobby into the bowels of the hospitality industry.