Along the way, Ruby said, “Not on my time, Romeo.” Then she added, in a much lower tone, “Though you could sure teach the stiffs in this town a thing or two about lightening up and enjoying life.”
Liza didn’t have to wonder to which “stiffs” she referred. Seconds later, they passed the Bains at a table and then neared the Grants—
Emelda and her husband, the mayor.
“Well,” the Queen Bee said as they approached. Emelda wore an insanely large black hat that needed a spot of its own at the table. Or possibly its own ZIP code. How Ruby was going to get by in the narrow aisle without knocking the hat off the mayor’s wife was a magic trick Liza looked forward to witnessing.
Jack surprised her by stopping to speak to the Grants. “Good evening, Emelda.” He flashed the dimple-grin and Liza could swear the Queen Bee all but melted like the Wicked Witch of the West, leaving behind nothing but the hat. Her squat body seemed to compress into the chair as she reached for her paper napkin and fanned herself.
“Jack,” she said in a throaty voice.
Liza bit back a gasp. Queenie was smitten by her sexy cowboy!
Well, I just!
Sean’s imitation of Emelda echoed in her head and Liza had to cover her mouth and feign a cough to keep from laughing.
“Mayor,” Jack said to the portly man sitting next to the withering pool of mush that was once Emelda Grant. His tone was stronger, more formal as he addressed the mayor of Wilder.
“Jack, nice to see you. And your lovely…date.”
Clearly not a term associated with Jack Wade. The uniqueness of her situation with him made Liza’s toes curl in her black leather, thigh-high boots.
Tonight she wore a short, black skirt with a silver satin button-down blouse tucked into it. She was wearing all the clothes she’d bought on a whim in New York over the years, but had never been able to wear because Peter and her mother found them too sexy or too contemporary-midtown. Not conservative and high-society enough for their taste.
They weren’t the only ones who had qualms over how she dressed. Mayor Grant took her in with a somewhat disapproving look. But when Jack had arrived at her cottage, he’d nearly called off dinner and dragged her inside to fuck her. So she really didn’t care what anyone else thought.
Surprisingly, when the mayor’s gaze met hers, he smiled. “You’re just as pretty as Emelda claimed.”
“Oh, Bob,” Queenie bristled, looking embarrassed and miffed that he’d betrayed her confidence—and shared that tidbit with Liza.
She smiled at both Grants. “What a lovely compliment. Thank you so much.” She reached a hand out to the mayor in a formal fashion. He stood and took her offering. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Liza liked him instantly, despite his hesitation over her ensemble. He had warm brown eyes surrounded by lots of wrinkles. His smile was genuine and his handshake was just right—not too strong as to overpower her, silently putting her in her “little misses” place. Yet not the least bit limp. Although it was a confident gesture, it was also a friendly one. Not at all the politician handshake Liza was accustomed to or expected given his wife’s earlier pretention. Perhaps that had been for Lydia’s sake, to remind the reverend’s wife that being the mayor’s wife trumped her. Liza decided she liked Emelda as much as she liked her husband.
“Would you care to join us for coffee?” he asked as he released Liza’s hand and returned to his seat.
“Glass of wine would be better,” Jack said.
“Couldn’t agree with you more, son,” the mayor mumbled.
Jack continued on, keeping his tone level. “Perhaps on a night when it’s not outlawed. As it is, Jess and George are waiting for us.”
The devil on Liza’s shoulder taunted her to look behind them to see if the Bains had overheard their exchange with the mayor and his wife, particularly that last part. The angel on the other shoulder helped her to resist the urge, difficult though it was.
Her mother may be the most frigid woman on the planet next to Lydia Bain, but she had taught Liza good manners.
“Well, then,” the mayor said. “Another time. Enjoy your dinner.”
“You too,” Jack said.
They pressed on, just barely skirting the wide brim of Emelda’s hat. Ruby had taken an alternate route when she’d abandoned them. Not as if they didn’t know where they were headed.
Jess and George were already sharing one side of the corner booth when Liza and Jack finally arrived.
“Sorry we’re late,” Liza said as she scooted into the same seat she’d occupied yesterday.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jess said with her usual smile. “George had a glass of Scotch at home before we came, so he’s in a good mood.”