Red's Hot Cowboy (35 page)

“And I look beautiful in it, don’t I, Lucy?”

Lucy looked from one to the other. “Don’t get me in the middle of your fight. I’m the last person to judge whether a man is worth the bullet to shoot him or not.”

“Let’s go home and give those kids a place to sit,” Pearl said.

“They look so young,” Jasmine said.

“And they’re looking at us and wondering why three old women are taking up space in their booth,” Lucy said.

“I’m not an old woman!” Jasmine said.

“Remember when you were sixteen. How old was thirty?” Pearl asked.

Jasmine giggled. “Ancient.”

“Right! Let’s go home and get you settled into a room. Tomorrow we’ll go over to the café and have lunch. Let you see if you even like the idea once you’ve eaten there,” Pearl said.

Home!
Pearl thought.
It had taken a while but Henrietta really was home.

“What café?” Lucy asked.

“It’s called Chicken Fried. It’s south of Ringgold. Gemma O’Donnell has a beauty shop right next door to it and it’s the only café in Ringgold and the only beauty shop. We’ll all three go to lunch there,” Pearl said. “But I’m tellin’ you right now and straight up, Lucy is my help and you cannot coerce her into coming to work for you.”

Lucy beamed. Nothing could take her away from the Longhorn Inn, but it was nice to be needed and wanted.

At eleven o’clock that night Pearl had filled fifteen rooms. She stepped outside for a breath of cold, fresh air and saw a thin beam of light filtering through the slim opening in Lucy’s drapes. Evidently she was engrossed in a thick romance book. Jasmine had decided on the last room at the end of the east side of the motel. Everything was dark in that area so she had turned in for the night. The rest of the place was quiet so Pearl went back inside, flipped on the NO VACANCY sign, and headed back to her apartment.

The phone rang the minute she’d kicked off her shoes and she groaned. “Longhorn Inn, may I help you?” she answered on the third ring.

“Depends on what you mean by
help me
.” Wil’s deep voice sent a delicious tremble down her back. “What have you got in mind?”

“If you want phone sex you better call one of those 900 numbers that charge you seven ninety-five a minute.”

“I don’t want phone sex. I want the real thing. Can I come over?”

“Hell, no!”

He chuckled. “So now that we got that idea nixed, how was your day? Did you get Jasmine settled in and is she really interested in buying a café?”

“My day was busy. Yes, Jasmine is settled into the last room on the east wing and yes, she is interested in the café. She loves to cook. Always has. She should’ve been my momma’s daughter instead of me.”

“You can cook and do a damn fine job of it.”

“Yes, I can cook. But I don’t love it like she does. Where are you?”

“In the barn wrapped up in a quilt with an old pregnant cow that won’t get on the ball and deliver her calf. Jack was wrong when he thought she’d calve tonight. Every song that played all day on the radio reminded me of you, Red. I miss you so bad. Are y’all really going to Chicken Fried tomorrow?”

“Yes, we are. For lunch. Why?”

“I’ve got to be over that way to see about a tractor. I might stop by for lunch just to see you since you won’t let me come over and take a look at the little freckle on your fanny.”

“Wilson Marshall!”

“Gotcha! Good night, Red. Sweet dreams.”

“I already love it,” Jasmine said when they parked in front of the Chicken Fried café. It was a two-story white frame building that had started out as a home in the thirties for the family who owned a car dealership right next door. In the sixties a couple bought it and put in the 81 Diner. That folded in the early seventies and they rented it out as a home for ten years before selling it in 1981 to Dottie Jones who turned it into a café again. When her husband died in 2000, she had renovations done on the upstairs and created a living space. Now she was seventy and needed a hip replacement. The stairs were difficult for her to climb and she wanted to retire. But no one wanted to buy a café out in the middle of nowhere.

“It is cute, but I wouldn’t want to cook for a living,” Lucy said from the backseat of the Caddy. “Have you eaten here, Pearl?”

“Few times with Gemma. She’s Rye’s sister who owns that beauty shop.” She pointed to the small building next door.

Jasmine beat them to the porch and sat down in one of the six white rocking chairs. “I like this idea. Sit and visit a spell instead of fast food and run. You got any idea what they’re askin’ for the place?”

Pearl shook her head. “It’s been for sale for a long time so I’m sure it’s negotiable. Dottie wants to move down to Beaumont and live close to her daughter and grandkids, so she might take a reasonable offer. And she needs hip surgery. She does the cookin’ and hires a waitress.”

“Would you change the name?” Lucy asked.

“No. I think Chicken Fried is cute. I even like the sign.” Jasmine pointed to the stenciled letters on the plate glass window. She could see inside and there were only two tables left. A waitress hustled from the dining room to the kitchen but took time to stop and talk to the customers. The whole atmosphere was laid back and country.

“It’ll be more work than making brownies in an Easy Bake Oven,” Pearl said.

“Momma will hate it,” Jasmine said.

Pearl led the way inside. “My momma hates the Longhorn Inn.”

“Sit anywhere,” the waitress called out. “Menu is on the table. I’ll be right with you.”

Covered with red and white checked oilcloth, each table had a lazy Susan with a sugar shaker, artificial sweetener, salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce, ketchup, and paper towel dispenser in the center. The laminated menu was printed on one sheet of paper and stuck between the hot sauce and sugar shaker.

Jasmine picked it up and studied it. Each day there was a lunch special. That day it was turkey and dressing, green beans, mashed potatoes, and choice of cranberry or tossed salad. If a person didn’t want the plate special then they could order burgers, grilled cheese, or chicken fried steak, which came with a choice of mashed potatoes or fries, vegetable of the day, and a tossed salad.

She liked the setup but was already thinking about what desserts she’d offer to go with the lunch special. Hot yeast rolls would be a given, so one day she’d make iced cinnamon rolls. Another she would offer a choice of three or four pies.

“I see wheels turning in your head,” Lucy said.

“It’s a perfect size. I’d just need one waitress and I’d do the cooking,” she whispered.

They were so engrossed in the menu that they didn’t see Martha Jane Marshall until she was standing right beside Pearl and said, “Hello, may I join you ladies?”

Pearl was so startled that she nodded.

Martha Jane wore jeans, a red sweater, and cowboy boots, and her hair had that fresh done look and smell. “I just came from Gemma’s. Got a perm and my eyebrows waxed so that’s why I look like I’ve been crying. Thought I’d stop in and have a hamburger since Jesse is off at a sale.”

Pearl made introductions as Martha Jane settled into the fourth chair. “These are my friends. Lucy, who works at the Longhorn Inn and Jasmine, who might be interested in buying this place. This is Martha Jane, Wil’s mother.”

“I can see that,” Lucy said. “He has your pretty brown eyes.”

Martha Jane smiled. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Pearl, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for that comment that you heard as you were leaving the house the other day. I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

“Accepted, but what is it that you’ve got against red hair?” Pearl asked.

“It’s something I never told anyone else. Even Jesse doesn’t know part of it. But I wouldn’t stand in the way of my son’s happiness for anything in this world. Jesse was in love with a red-haired girl before I came into the picture. She taunted me horrible when me and Jesse started dating and said that she could have him back anytime she wanted. The day I married him she showed up at my house that morning and claimed that he slept with her the night before. After we were married she told everyone that the illegitimate son she bore was Jesse’s child. She was a thorn in my side until she moved to California. I still pray every day that she never comes back to Texas.”

“Wow! I wouldn’t like redheads either,” Pearl said.

“Thank you!”

“Why didn’t you snatch her bald-headed and then slap her for not having any hair?” Pearl asked.

“I wasn’t as brazen then as I am now.”

“Too bad,” Jasmine said.

The waitress stopped at their table with a pad and looked at Martha Jane first. “You decided?”

“Yes, I want a hamburger with mustard and no onions. Fries and Diet Coke. And I’ll take the bill for this table today,” Martha Jane said.

The waitress looked at Jasmine.

“Chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and sweet tea.”

“I’ll have the same,” Lucy said.

“I want the lunch special. What’s the vegetable of the day?” Pearl asked.

“Green beans with chunks of potatoes and ham.”

“Sounds good. Sweet tea, please.”

The waitress wrote the orders on her pad and disappeared toward the kitchen.

Pearl touched Martha’s hand. “You don’t have to pay for lunch.”

Martha held up a palm. “My treat. I insist.”

“You insist on what?” Wil asked from two feet away. He pulled a chair away from another table and pushed it up close to Pearl. “I didn’t know you were having lunch with my mother.”

“Neither did I.”

Wil leaned across the space and kissed Pearl softly on the lips. “Hello, darlin’.”

She always looked fantastic to him whether she was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt to clean motel rooms or all dolled up for a New Year’s party, but that day looking at her made his mouth as dry as if he’d just crammed it full of sand. She wore faded jeans, a Western shirt with pearl snaps left open over a soft light green T-shirt. And she had on scuffed up cowboy boots. This was his favorite version of Red and he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

She reached under the tablecloth and squeezed his thigh.

He shot her a sexy grin.

“It wasn’t planned. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time. What brings you to Ringgold today?” Martha asked.

“Chicken fried steak,” he said.

The waitress came right over. “Your regular?”

He waved his hand around the whole table. “That’s right. Put it all on one ticket and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” Martha Jane smiled.

“But—” Pearl raised a hand and started to argue.

Wil grabbed her hand and held it tightly in his lap.

“So what is your first impression, Jasmine?” he asked.

“That I want to start to work tomorrow,” she answered.

“It’s gettin’ up early and working hard,” he said.

“Been doin’ that my whole life at something I didn’t even like. I’m goin’ to talk to the owner after we eat and see if I can set up an appointment to go over the books and then I’m going to make an offer. My momma is going to pitch a fit but it’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing.”

“Why would your momma pitch a fit?” Martha Jane asked.

“Because her daughter wasn’t supposed to be a cook,” Jasmine said.

“Your momma disappointed in you?” Martha Jane looked at Pearl.

“Probably.”

“How about you?” Martha Jane shifted her eyes to Lucy.

“My momma is so busy tryin’ to take care of kids and grandkids that she don’t have time to think about what I do for a livin’,” Lucy said.

“Well, I wish I’d had all y’all’s sass when I was your age,” Martha Jane said.

The waitress brought a burger and fries on a heavy white stone plate in one hand and two chicken fried dinners lined up the other arm. She set them before Martha, Jasmine, and Lucy and went back to the kitchen for the other two plates which she set in front of Wil and Pearl. One more trip brought their drinks.

“Anything else I can get you folks?” she asked.

“We’re good,” Pearl said.

“Then I’ll leave the ticket with this good lookin’ cowboy and y’all can fight him over it.” She handed it to Wil and was off to take orders from another couple who’d just arrived.

“God, this is good. Think she’ll give me the secret to making chicken fried like this?” Jasmine said between bites.

“Buttermilk,” Lucy said.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Buttermilk. First you roll the steak in flour, then egg and buttermilk whipped together, and then back in flour. Then you get the grease really hot and only turn the steak one time. Turn it anymore and it’ll be soggy. Trick is to fry it fast but get it done without losing the breading.”

“You sure you don’t want to work for me rather than clean rooms at the motel? I’ll pay you more than Pearl pays you.”