15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

D ogwood Hotel was an immense two-story building that stood familiar and proud on Main Street. The hotel had been the first in the town. It withstood The War, a fire in '79, and near-bankruptcy. It was one of the many focal points in downtown Dogwood, with white clapboard siding, black shutters, and flower boxes. The front porch invited strangers to sit a while on one of the many wooden rocking chairs. The hotel diner's expansive window advertised home-cooked meals in painted calligraphy.

Mouthwatering aromas floated from the building to the street, and Isa's stomach growled loud enough to make Mirage's ears twitch backward. Isa and Junior hitched their horses and mule at the water trough directly below the porch's white railings and hungrily strode up the worn stairs. Several people, mostly old-timers in rockers sipping cups of coffee, bid "afternoon" to the pair as they passed.

Junior held the screen door open for Isa, but she was simply too hungry to comment on this unusual behavior. Telling him of her teenage puppy love had been undoubtedly a mistake, but she could fret about it later. For now, she wanted something hot and fried, a cool drink that wasn't stale canteen water, and familiar faces that weren't Junior's. The familiar scent of lemon wood polish and Minnie's cooking lightened Isa's heart. She hadn't been home since January, as her job and gambling with David had taken up much of her time; she'd had a trip to fund, after all. She hadn't accounted for how much she'd miss the little town.

Behind the concierge desk's glossy countertop, a tall, middle-aged man looked up. The owner, Mr. Ricci, was missing his left arm below the elbow, and his suit was elegantly tailored to fit. He blinked twice at her through spectacles, then his face became animated. Delighted.

"Miss Isa!" Mr. Ricci was around the desk, enfolding her in a familial embrace, before she could respond. Over his shoulder, Isa took in the crown moldings, paintings, and a grand guest staircase before he pulled away.

"It's wonderful to see you, Mr. Ricci."

Junior had halted so close behind her that the hem of her split skirt brushed his boots.

"And young Mr. Stone is with you!" Mr. Ricci cried, abandoning Isa to pump Junior's hand in a pleased handshake.

They made small talk about their journey and how long they'd be home until Mr. Ricci noticed his guest's repetitive glances at the diner. "You must be famished. Go! Get some food in you. Minnie will be tickled you're here."

Relieved, Isa thanked him and turned to do exactly that, then promptly bumped into Junior. Why was he hovering so closely? She had to edge around him to get to the diner.

In the dining room, the space was unchanged except the gingham tablecloths were burnt orange and white instead of blue and white, and the little vases were adorned with dried flowers and fluffy cattails as opposed to spring daisies. The lunch rush had cleared, and Junior chose a table by the open front window while a waitress bussed half a dozen others. Peering through the window screen, Isa smiled at the way her sunflower stuck out of the top of Mirage's halter, giving the horse a winsome appearance. Several bystanders had stopped strolling to look at the Arabian. Junior pulled Isa's chair out for her, and she peered at him as if he'd misplaced his sanity. Once seated across the little square table from her, Junior pulled his buckskin Stetson from his matted yellow crown. He tousled his hair with rough fingers, and the ropey blue veins mapping the back of his hands distracted her. Isa tried to affect boredom, but it was hard when a polite changeling had possessed her normally boorish friend. She doffed her own hat and hung it on the back of her chair.

The waitress momentarily overlooked the dirty dishes on the tables to take their orders. When she disappeared through the swinging door, Isa could hear the busy activity in the kitchen. Through the noise of clattering dishes, frying meat, and scraping pans, the cook's loud, sure orders to the other kitchen workers made Isa smile.

Minnie .

Reading her expression, Junior remarked, "Minnie is gonna tan our hide if we don't tell her we're here."

"If we tell her now, she'll come out and visit, and I don't want anyone else cooking our food," Isa reasoned. Minnie was the best cook in the whole town. Even the mayor ate supper here every Saturday night with his family.

Junior raised his hands as if to say, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

A woman boomed a greeting to Mr. Ricci at the front desk, clomping loudly through the foyer toward the kitchen's side entrance. They could hear her chatting with the kitchen women through the walls. Junior and Isa shared a grin. When the boisterous, statuesque woman made to walk through the foyer and exit the hotel moments later, Junior twisted in his chair and propped an elbow on its backrest.

"You gonna just walk out without saying hello, Mrs. Hobb?" he called.

The woman, taller even than Isa, stopped in her tracks. The linen napkin over her covered plate fluttered. Slack-jawed, Mrs. Hobb looked at them through the doorway, then stomped into the diner.

"Well, I'll be dipped," she barked, setting her plate down to pull them to their feet in back-cracking hugs. "When did you two tumbleweeds roll in?"

"Just now," Junior grunted through the surprising force of Mrs. Hobb's embrace.

"And you came right in here without tellin' anyone?" she huffed, settling on a chair at their table.

"We're not fit company until we eat," Isa explained.

"I 'spect not." Mrs. Hobb's belly moved up and down with her laughter. She was a Viking-sized, jolly woman who owned the general store next door with her husband. Her laugh was as renowned as the skin tags and moles on her face, though no one dared mention those; it didn't do to get on Mrs. Hobb's bad side. Many a recalcitrant man had been thrown out on their backsides for not paying credit owed.

They made small talk and caught up, and when the waitress returned with Isa and Junior's cups of chilled lemonade, Mrs. Hobb patted the slim woman with enough force to rattle her teeth. "Doris, tell Minnie she's got surprise guests. And get me some coffee while you're at it. You know what, bring some of that buttermilk pie, too."

Once the disgruntled Doris disappeared through the swinging door again, Mrs. Hobb pulled her napkin from her plate and updated them on the slowing business of her general store. "Dadblamed depression," she muttered through a mouthful of corned beef.

Minnie glided through the kitchen door with two full plates of food, her smile broad and white against an ageless face. Her curly gray hair was in a tight knot at her nape, her forehead and collarbones shining with perspiration from the cookstove.

"Look at what we have here," she whooped, flourishing the plates in front of Isa and Junior. For the third time, they exchanged greetings. Minnie squeezed into the fourth chair while Junior and Isa dug into their meal, and she and Mrs. Hobb filled the silence with news of Poppy's new baby.

"Poppy had her baby?" Isa asked, covering her mouth with a hand. "I missed it?"

"Happened just a couple days ago, didn't it?" Minnie asked Mrs. Hobb, who was noisily scraping her plate. "Ain't never seen Mr. Sol so proud. Came in to tell us how Ms. Poppy did—she's right as rain, don't you worry none."

Mrs. Hobb wiped the faint mustache above her mouth, chuckling. "He calls her Carrot Top. I plumb forgot her real name. Never seen a man so over the moon to have three girls in a row."

"That's because Sol is the only man to realize that females are the superior of the two sexes," Isa said casually, then huffed in affront when Junior reached over to stab the yeast roll off her plate.

"Sol was dropped on his head as a baby," Junior said through his purloined bite of roll.

"You're foul," Isa sniped, brandishing the dull-tipped knife beside her plate. "Touch my food again, and I'll cut a piece of you off."

Minnie and Mrs. Hobb shared an amused look.

"Long as it's not my favorite piece," Junior shot, then ducked, laughing, as three different things were thrown at him.

"Mr. Stone!" Minnie gasped, wide, coffee-brown eyes showing yellowish sclera all around.

"I oughta let you have a bite of soap, you little chucklehead," boomed Mrs. Hobb.

In between cleaning their plates, Junior and Isa told the story of Mirage and the horse thieves. Minnie gasped several satisfying times; she considered thievery a most mortal sin. Isa noted how carefully he evaded any mention of the Texas Rangers.

"You two goin' to the Fall Dance this weekend?" Mrs. Hobb asked, mouth full of the warm buttermilk pie Doris had begrudgingly retrieved. Dogwood's Fall Dance was an annual event held during the last weekend of October. God-fearing people were mindful not to label it a "Halloween Dance," but families brought their children to bob for apples, play the test of the three bowls, and compete in apple-paring and storytelling contests hoping to win prizes.

"I forgot about the dance," Isa said, pushing her plate away. "I didn't have room in my bags for a dress."

"Pshaw, Franny can fix one up for you," Mrs. Hobb said.

"I can take you if you need a dance partner," Junior offered.

"You think I can't find someone?" Isa narrowed her eyes at him. What did he think she was, a charity case? Of all the nerve!

Mrs. Hobb opened her mouth, but Minnie stepped on her foot under the table and shook her head. She was scrutinizing Junior's face.

"No one that knows you."

Isa didn't like the little smirk on his mouth and dearly wanted to smack it off. "I don't think I'll have you, thank you very much. I'll attend the dance by myself."

"Fine." The smile was gone from Junior's sensual lips. "We can just ride together and go our separate ways when we get there."

"I've ridden with you enough for my taste." Isa sniffed.

"Who said you had a choice?"

She balled her fists and held them up. "These say so."

Junior's smile returned, his teeth strong and white against his trail tan. "Big words from such a little person."

"I am not little."

Minnie and Mrs. Hobb shared another look, and Isa grew self-conscious. Junior's mouth opened to say something else, but her expression stopped him.

"Minnie, do you think I can get a bath before I go see Sol?" Isa asked. "I feel like I'm wearing half of Texas on my clothes."

"'Course!" Minnie hopped out of her chair.

Frowning pensively, Mrs. Hobb stood as well, her chair screaming on the hardwood. "Well, I'd best get back. Franny's been pesterin' me to put her new dress in the window."

"Mrs. Hobb," Isa said quickly. "Would you need any help at the store? I'll be home for the holidays."

Mrs. Hobb's eyebrows rose in pleasure. "Well, sure enough, honey, you come on by and do inventory any time. I hate that business more'n anything. Won't be able to pay much—the Panic, you understand."

Isa waved that away. "I'll just be happy to have something to keep me busy." One day, the Panic of 1893 would be a distant dream.

Mrs. Hobb clapped Junior's back, said her goodbyes, and tramped her way outside. Seconds later, she waved at them through the window, headed in the direction of her store. Isa followed behind Minnie. As she passed Junior, she caught his eyes on the curve of her breasts. Isa kicked his boot for his impudence and pretended his low chuckle didn't reach somewhere deep inside, just below her belly.

MINNIE RETURNED TO the kitchen half an hour later, worrying her apron knot. She'd left Isa to her own devices but couldn't shake off a deep unease. At the dinner table, Mrs. Hobb had shared a look with Minnie as though she'd also sensed the underlying sexual tension between the young man and woman. Minnie hadn't liked that tension one bit, no siree. Those two were good as family. Junior and Isa used to run through Dogwood Hotel no better than a couple of misbehaved children, always picking at each other to see who could rile the other up the most. Minnie looked at them now as adults and saw pure trouble. She had seen it coming; two attractive young folks with hot heads and passions right at the surface.

The kitchen women must have seen the disapproval written on the head cook's face and scurried to their duties, but it wasn't their work Minnie objected to. It was that young fool in the dining room who couldn't keep his eyes off Sol William's little sister.

It was plain as the nose on Junior's face that he was keeping some events of his last visit home a secret from Isa, and when that girl found out, it was going to spell trouble. Minnie was watching two sticks of dynamite, each fuse racing to see which could blow the fastest. She feared there wouldn't be enough pieces left to clean up when they exploded.