The Swinging R Ranch: The Swinging R Ranch / Whose Line Is It Anyway?. Debbi Rawlins
She hung up the phone, not even trying to hide her amusement.
Whatever foolishness she was up to, he wasn’t in the mood. Only one thing interested him. “Is the ranch profitable?”
“Oh, I suspect it might be.”
“And?”
“Congratulations, Mr. Bennett.” Taylor struggled to stifle a laugh. “You’re the proud owner of an honest-to-goodness, legal-as-a-copper-penny brothel.”
“GOOD EVENING, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Abby Cunningham for Mayor dinner. Of course, as you all know, I’m Cabby Anningham.” Letting out a shriek of disgust, Abby made a face at her tired reflection in the bathroom mirror.
She’d known most of the people who’d be at the dinner since she’d started toddling around Bingo twenty-five years ago. How she could still get so nervous and tongue-tied was beyond her comprehension.
Her stomach in knots, she padded out of the bathroom, into her bedroom and headed straight for the dish of peanut M&M’s sitting on her dresser. Chocolate wouldn’t cure her nerves. In fact, she’d probably end up with a face full of zits for the dinner tomorrow night, but right now, those little suckers were the only things that would get her through this rehearsal.
She still had to decide whether to wear her hair up in a more sophisticated style, like maybe a French twist, or leave it long and loose to her shoulders the way she always wore it. The people of Bingo tended to favor familiarity, but Abby wasn’t sure how much her age was a deterrent. Twenty-six was awfully young to be mayor. Even if her father had held the office for three terms, as did his father before him.
After carefully sorting four red candies from the rest of the colors, she sank to her bed, leaned back against the pillows and started popping the M&M’s into her mouth. She’d eat the green ones next, and then the rest in no particular order. It wasn’t that she was superstitious exactly, but she saw no point in changing her habits now.
“Abby…yoo-hoo. Abby, I’m home.”
At the sound of her grandmother’s voice, Abby bolted upright and slid the dish of candy into her underwear drawer. She swallowed the last M&M whole, then cleared her throat. “I’m in my room, Gramms.”
Estelle Cunningham instantly appeared in the doorway. Her smile faded, her gaze narrowed, and she sniffed the air. “I smell chocolate.”
“In here?” Abby laughed. “You’re imagining things. Do you think I should wear my hair up or down tomorrow night?” She twisted it up and sent her grandmother a questioning look.
Gramms brushed past her, sniffing, and went unerringly to the dresser drawer. Abby’s only hope now was that the ill-favored peanut variety she’d purposely bought would discourage Gramms.
“Really, Abby, you shouldn’t mix these with your unmentionables.” Estelle sat on the bed with the dish on her lap, scooped out an orange-colored one and carefully nibbled the coating and chocolate off the nut. “You know, maybe that’s how someone thought to invent those edible panties. Do you suppose? I think they’re called Candies, or some such thing.”
“How do you know about that?” Abby frowned. “You’ve been hanging around those women at the Swinging R again, haven’t you?” She grabbed the dish of M&M’s. “And no more of these. Doctor’s orders.”
“You have no business talking to my doctor, Abigail. No business at all. You forget who’s the grandmother here.” She shook her snow-white head and briefly eyed the candy before directing her stern blue gaze at Abby. “And don’t let me hear you referring to the ladies of the Swinging R as those women again. Shame on you. Why, Rosie, Mona and Candy have all contributed handsomely to your campaign fund, young lady.”
Sighing, Abby sat beside her grandmother and patted her age-spotted hand. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. It’s not that I don’t appreciate their support, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for them to be passing out gift certificates for future services at the Ranch.”
“Why not? The gift certificates are separate from the ‘Vote for Abby’ flyer. They’re stapled together but we were very careful not to make it sound like a bribe.”
“We? You haven’t been…Oh, Gramms.” Slumping, Abby dug into the bowl and popped candies into her mouth without regard to color. Why bow to superstition? Her career was probably over anyway.
Estelle chuckled. “You young people think everything is such a big deal, that the whole world is going to come to an end if one little thing goes out of whack in your life.” Her smile gentled, reminding Abby so much of her father that it made her chest ache with fresh grief. At forty-eight, her parents had been too young to die. But the driver of the speeding semitruck hadn’t taken that into consideration.
“I know you disapprove of the Swinging R,” Estelle continued, “but brothels are legal in this county and the place is practically an institution. Folks don’t mind having the ladies around. They’ve always contributed to the community just like everyone else.”
Abby decided to keep further comment to herself. There was no point in upsetting her grandmother. Besides, she really didn’t have anything against the Swinging R, as long as her grandmother didn’t start hanging around there too much. “I know,” she said, passing her two M&M’s. “And I’ll welcome each of their votes.”
Gramms frowned. “Don’t be stingy with those. You weren’t raised that way.”
“You know what the doctor said—”
“Abigail, you’re only twenty-six. How can you be such an old fa—?”
The phone rang, cutting off their conversation. Just as well, Abby thought as her grandmother pushed off the bed to get it in the next room. Abby had heard the admonishments before. Many times, in fact. She was too serious, too responsible, too staid for a person her age. Baloney. All of it.
Even if it were true, it wasn’t as if Abby had a choice. She was all Gramms had and someone had to look after her. Next month she’d be seventy without a hint of slowing down. That’s why Abby never bothered to get the phone anymore. It was always for Gramms.
“Some of the girls want to go play bingo tonight,” Gramms said as she breezed back into the room. “We’re going to grab a bite to eat on the way.”
Abby smiled, tucking her disappointment away. “No fries or cheeseburgers, and definitely no cheesecake.”
Her grandmother made a face. “I was going to ask you to come with us, but now I’m not so sure.” Her gaze strayed to the clothes spread out across the bed. Then her eyes met Abby’s. “Did you have plans for us tonight?”
“No.” Abby shrugged off the lie. “I’m just trying to decide what to wear tomorrow night.”
Gramms frowned at the selection, then went to the closet and pulled out the short red dress she’d given Abby last Christmas. “This is what you should wear. Not one of those old fuddy duddy navy or gray suits. Now let’s go.”
Abby took the dress and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “Go have fun. I’m still practicing my speech.”
Gramms waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t have to do that. You’ll beat old man Cleghorn just by showing up. No one wants that antiquated fool back in the saddle.” She put a finger to her temple, and lowered her voice even though there was no one else in the house. “His chimney’s been clogged for some time now, and he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when he was in his prime, if you know what I mean.”
Abby wasn’t sure she did, but she knew better than to ask. “I don’t want to win by default, Gramms. I want to win because I’m the best person for the job.”
Estelle’s eyes widened. “Everyone from here to Las Vegas knows you care more about this town than a bear loves honey. Even when all your friends flew the coop after college, you came right