Fear dug deep into Holbrook’s soul—Lucky could feel it through the phone, could almost hear him asking himself if Red had lied about birth control. But what she’d intimated only made him angry.
“What’s the real story here? Morris’s money isn’t enough for you? Now you’ve got to come after me?”
“I’m—”
“Just tell me what it’s going to take to make you leave me alone. A hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand?”
She couldn’t respond right away. Despite all the self-talk of the past few months, she must’ve hoped for a better response because she felt crushed by the anger and contempt in his reaction. “I don’t want your money,” she said softly and hung up.
THE MUSIC FROM the Honky Tonk spilled into the street every time someone opened the door. Lucky was drawn by the beat of Toby Keith’s “I Love This Bar,” and the happy voices that both sang and competed with his recording. Yet she hung back in the shadows of the tavern’s porch, wondering if she was doing the right thing by coming here. The Honky Tonk was a popular local hangout where she could chance upon just about anybody, which was why she’d avoided it until now. But she knew it wasn’t wise to stay at home alone. Especially after her disappointing telephone conversation with Garth Holbrook this afternoon. She’d secluded herself for too long as it was. She needed to be around people, even if those people were from Dundee and didn’t care much for her. Even if she was just an onlooker. Besides, she didn’t have to worry about anyone being unwelcoming. At this hour, most of the Honky Tonk’s patrons would be too drunk to bother with her. She’d waited until nearly eleven o’clock just to insure it.
“You comin’ in, little lady?”
A tall man in a taupe cowboy hat had spotted her and held the door expectantly.
Little lady. Mike had called her that her first night back in town.
A grudging smile claimed Lucky’s lips as she finally emerged from the deeper recesses of the porch. Dundee was so different from the cities she’d visited, particularly back East—Boston, New York, Philadelphia. No one ever said “little lady” in those places.
“Thanks.” She drew a deep breath before stepping into the dark, noisy tavern.
Someone from a table to the right immediately hailed the man who’d held the door for her. He tipped his hat at her before striding off to join them, and she hurried to the bar, where she planned to get lost in the crowd and enjoy the heat and energy of the place. But no sooner had she taken a seat than Jon Small tapped her on the shoulder.
“Hey, I’ve been hoping to run into you again. How’s it goin’?”
Lucky glanced longingly at the college football game playing on the television to her left. “Fine, and you?”
“My ex is suing me for more child support, but other than that…”
“I’m sorry your divorce has been so difficult.”
His face darkened. “I never would’ve expected it from Leah. She was always so…mousy. Couldn’t even decide where to go for dinner.” He shook his head. “I guess people change, huh? I just never saw it coming.”
Lucky had no comment. She didn’t know Leah, and the bartender was moving in her direction.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
She ordered a glass of wine, but as soon as the bartender turned away, Jon invited her to dance.
Lucky didn’t want to get out in front of people. She craved some of that anonymity she’d enjoyed at half the sports bars across America. But he was already tugging on her hand.
“Come on. You’re the prettiest girl in town, and I could use a little distraction.”
His slurred words told Lucky he’d had quite a bit to drink. She was afraid it might cause more of a scene to tell him no than to simply dance with him and get it over with.
Allowing him to lead her to the edge of the floor, she looped her arms loosely around his neck. Faith Hill was singing now and the tempo had slowed.
“How do you like being back?” he asked.
“It’s great,” she lied.
“There’s no place like Dundee.”
A quick glance at his face told her he meant it. “I guess.”
“There’s room to breathe out here, to spread out, to be yourself.”
“Maybe if your father’s name is Dave Small,” she muttered.
He grinned. “I guess it doesn’t hurt that my father’s something of a local celebrity.”
“Do you admire him a great deal?” she asked, suddenly hoping Garth Holbrook wasn’t her father, after all. Maybe it was Dave Small or even Eugene Thompson….
“I guess. He was strict growing up, but he’s mellowed a lot.”
“I’ve never met him.”
Jon jerked his head toward some tables by the jukebox. “He’s here tonight. I can introduce you if you like.”
Lucky thought she should give herself time to file away Senator Holbrook’s rejection first, but she didn’t have the opportunity to speak to Dave every day. And it wasn’t as if she’d mention her mother or the journal. After this morning, she had no further plans to take the direct approach. She’d just say a few words, see what Dave was like….
“Okay,” she said.
She and Jon spoke little after that, but when the dance ended, he pulled her along behind him toward the table he’d indicated a few minutes earlier.
Dave looked up when they approached, and so did Smalley, who sat on the other side of his father. Smalley’s incredible size made it easy for Lucky to recognize him, although she hadn’t seen him in years. He hadn’t been present at the family gathering she’d watched last Sunday.
Two other men had just left the table to play billiards. Jon yanked out one of the empty chairs and waved Lucky into it.
“Who have we here?” Dave asked when she sat down.
“Lucky Caldwell,” Jon said. “She wants to meet you.”
Dave’s smile tightened the moment he heard her name. At Jon’s added comment about her wanting to meet him, the warmth fled his eyes. “You must be Red’s daughter.”
Lucky noted the condescension in his voice and refused to drop her gaze. “Yes, I am.”
“I heard you were back.”
“Who from?”
He shrugged. “Can’t remember. It’s my business to know what’s happening in our little town.”
Lucky couldn’t see how her return could possibly affect anything at City Hall and was quickly coming to realize why Booker Robinson had called this man arrogant.