From what she could remember of Dave Small, he had a short, stocky build, a large extended family and a pizzeria near the Honky Tonk. He also served on the city council and had two sons about ten years older than she was. Smalley took after his severely overweight mother and was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen. At nearly half his weight, Jon favored their father. Both boys were married, or at least they had been when Lucky left Dundee. But she couldn’t remember much more than that. She’d bumped into Dave here and there, but she’d never spoken to him. The only interaction she’d ever had with the Smalls was when Smalley and Jon rode past the Victorian one day and knocked down the Dave Small for City Council sign her mother had posted in the yard. Before they peeled away, they spotted her watching them from the shade of the porch, and hollered that their daddy didn’t need the support of a two-bit whore like her mother.
Lucky had immediately thrown the sign away. She hadn’t liked the smirk on their faces any more than she appreciated what they had to say. But she couldn’t get too indignant about that incident anymore. On the night of Smalley’s high school graduation, he and Jon were both listed in her mother’s journal as having visited, along with a note that read Collected $50 from Theril. Several other entries indicated that Theril was another member of the Small clan and something of a regular.
Closing her eyes, she shoved the diary aside. Surely she wasn’t related to the Smalls. She could only imagine how warmly they’d embrace her. Considering Dave’s position in the community, she had a difficult time believing he’d even acknowledge her existence.
For much the same reason, she doubted she’d have any better luck with Garth Holbrook. He’d been elected to the state senate a few years before Lucky left and was still in office. She’d checked the Internet a few weeks ago and studied the publicity photo and biography on his Web site. Of the three men, he seemed to represent everything she’d like her father to be. Tall and stately, he possessed a full head of dark wavy hair with a touch of gray at the temples, classic features and gray eyes. He looked intelligent, self-composed, honorable.
Of course, a politician was supposed to look honorable, so maybe she was falling for a carefully constructed illusion. His Web site also revealed that he’d been married for forty years to the same woman, which meant he’d already had a family by the time he visited Red. It didn’t reflect any better on him that his relationship with her mother had lasted longer than a one-time “Oops, I made mistake” kind of visit. According to the journal, he’d stopped by Red’s place often over a three-month period. He’d even bought her a car.
Getting off the bed, Lucky went into the bathroom to gaze at herself in the mirror. Did she look like any of these men? She remembered Eugene Thompson as an old cowboy with callused hands and worn jeans. But there wasn’t anything on the Internet about him and she hadn’t seen him since Red married Morris. He could have moved on, or died.
With a sigh, she leaned closer to her reflection. She couldn’t see a resemblance to anyone except Red. She had her mother’s oval face, slightly slanted green eyes and high cheekbones. But her hair wasn’t quite the same flaming color as her mother’s, and she didn’t have any freckles. Her figure was significantly different, too. She turned to the side. She wasn’t nearly as buxom as Red had been, but buxom wasn’t necessarily the ideal anymore. Appearance-wise, she wasn’t bad, was she? Certainly she was no longer overweight.
Mike’s comment suddenly came to mind. You’re gorgeous. She’d immediately discounted that compliment as foreplay. When her mother drank, which wasn’t often but wasn’t pretty when it happened, she began dispensing advice. Her favorite warning was, “A man will tell you anything to get in your pants, Lucky. Don’t believe a word of it.”
But Mike had seemed sincere. Sure, the huskiness in his voice had left little doubt about what he wanted, but she hadn’t been making him work to get her clothes off. She’d already shed her sweatshirt at that point. There wasn’t any need for him to tell her anything.
Maybe he was just being kind. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, he’d been kind in several ways last night.
No more of Mike. Purposely turning her thoughts in another direction, she undressed so she could take a long, hot shower.
The telephone interrupted her. Assuming it had to be the front office, she hurried over, wondering if there was a problem with her credit card.
“Hello?”
“Lucky?”
Mike. Chills rolled down her spine, and she felt very exposed even though she was alone in a locked motel room. “Yes?” she said, automatically covering her bare br**sts with one arm.
“You don’t have a car.”
“I know that.”
“How are you going to get home when the storm lifts?”
“I—” She hadn’t made any plans. This morning her only thought had been to remove herself from his company. “I’ll hire someone to drive me or…or thumb a ride.”
“Do you hitchhike very often?”
“Sometimes, why?” she said, even though she’d only done it once before, in Kansas City, when she’d gone to a bar with some friends from the food bank and wanted to leave before everyone else was ready.
“It’s not safe.”
“This is Dundee,” she said.
“I don’t care if it’s Timbuktu. I don’t want to be responsible if something happens to you.”
“How would you be responsible?”
“I’m the one who dropped you off at the motel.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “So? If my body was found on the side of the road, the whole town would probably launch a celebration, and you and your family could lead the parade.”
“Is that what you think I’d do?”
“I know how you feel about me.”
Silence. “Then why did you get into bed with me last night, especially when you’ve never been with anyone else?”
She didn’t completely understand the answer to that question, wasn’t ready to examine it. “I was cold,” she said because it was the first thing that popped into her mind. Only after the words were out did she realize they were true. She had been cold—cold inside—and stupid enough to believe he could warm her.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She glanced in the mirror again, trying to view herself as he might have seen her last night. “Will you answer a question of mine?”