A Woman Like Annie. Inglath Cooper
And she felt terrible about it. But the fact was that she, by educational credentials, was barely qualified to work at the Star-Vue Drive-in roller-skating burgers between car windows. She’d finished high school by GED after running off and marrying J.D. at eighteen. She knew a lot about baseball travel schedules, shoulder injuries and fastballs. But not a darn thing about how to save a dying town. “I feel like I’ve let everybody down, Clar.”
Clarice looked up, eyes snapping. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it isn’t. I got asked to finish out J.D.’s term because people felt sorry for me. I’ve never had any illusions that I was qualified for the job, but I wanted to prove that they weren’t wrong to offer it to me.”
“They weren’t wrong.”
Annie sighed and took a last sip of her coffee. “Well, after Corbin Manufacturing closes, Macon’s Point won’t be big enough to need a mayor.”
“Aunt Clarice!”
Clarice swung her bar stool around. “Well, hey, sleepyhead, it’s about time you got up.”
Tommy catapulted into Clarice’s arms, nearly sending her over backward on the bar stool. “I didn’t know you were here!”
“I came over for an early visit,” she said, ruffling his blond hair, which was exactly the same color as hers. “Brought you a doughnut, too,” she said, reaching for the bag.
“What kind?”
“Whole wheat,” she said, dead serious.
“Yukkkk,” Tommy said, making a face.
Clarice laughed. “You know what kind I got you. Blueberry filled, of course.”
Tommy grinned. Had it been for anyone other than Clarice, Annie might have been hurt that her son hadn’t even noticed she was in the room yet. Tommy adored Clarice. It was mutual. And she couldn’t blame him. Clarice doted on her nephew, made him feel special.
“Mama, can I watch a video?”
“Sure, honey.”
Tommy took his doughnut and headed for the living room.
“I can’t believe I actually thought I could turn this situation around, Clarice. Why did I ever take on this job, anyway?”
“Because you care about this town, and it needs somebody who cares about it.” She resumed her position on the bar stool. “So. Here’s an idea.”
Annie recognized the tone in her sister’s voice. Failure did not exist in Clarice’s vocabulary. Never had. Never would. “What?” Knowing even as she asked the question that she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Let’s go out to see him this morning. Together. I’ll go as editor of the county newspaper. You as town mayor. We’ll state our case for letting another company buy him out. See if we can get him to at least agree to consider it.”
“Oh, Clarice, I don’t think—”
“But you don’t know. And how can we not at least give it a shot?”
She was right. Annie knew it and couldn’t deny it with any real conviction. It was the kind of thing Clarice had always been able to do. Put herself on the line. But then it almost always worked out in her favor. Maybe it would this time as well. In all likelihood, she should have been the one to talk to him in the first place. “You don’t think he’ll have us thrown off his property?” she asked, half kidding, half not.
“Two babes like us?” Clarice tossed her Star Search hair. “I don’t think so.”
“A MAN COULD get used to living this way.”
Essie stood in front of the gas-top Viking range, flipping strips of bacon with a long-handle fork. “You move yourself back in this house, Jack Corbin, and I’ll see to it that you do get used to it.”
Jack smiled. Lord, he’d missed this woman. Hadn’t realized how much until this morning when he’d followed his nose down to the kitchen where she had a pot of the best coffee he’d ever tasted going. Essie’s view of the world was one he wished he could bottle and sell. Her face stamped with wrinkles, it was Essie who had long ago taught him the value of a smile. That it opened doors. Made people feel welcome.
Damn shame, then, that he hadn’t been able to summon up one last night when Annie McCabe had thanked him in her cool, composed voice, taken her son’s hand and left Walker’s with an admirable, but unsuccessful, attempt to hide her disappointment. He’d woken up this morning to the nagging feeling that he wanted her to know it wasn’t personal. That it had nothing to do with her, but everything to do with him and the fact that he had no intention of cleaning up the mess Daphne had managed to make of his father’s business.
He was sure he looked like a monster to her.
And it bothered him.
Movement just past the window caught his eye. Sam, one of the Percherons, stood at the board fence at the edge of the yard, using a post top to reach an itch under his jaw. In the daylight, Jack could see that gray hair had long since threaded its way through the horse’s mane, but there was still a dignity to him that made Jack remember how proud his father had been of the team. As proud of those horses as he’d been of the business he’d built from the ground up. A wave of sadness hit him for the fact that they would not live out the rest of their lives here, and for the imminent demise of the furniture business his father had put his life into.
But Jack wasn’t responsible for the collapse of the company. Only the decision to let it go. And it was the right decision.
He thought about Annie and the disappointment in her eyes. It was the right decision.
Essie set a plate in front of him, covered with enough bacon, eggs and homemade biscuits to feed a family of four. “That’s the best-looking meal I’ve seen in ages,” Jack said, turning off the laptop he’d used to download the file Pete had sent him last night. “Aren’t you eating, Es?”
“Already did,” she said, dropping a frying pan in the sink and reaching for a scrub brush. “You go ahead. Enjoy.”
He’d just polished off the last of his bacon when he heard himself asking, “Do you know Annie McCabe, Essie?”
“Everybody knows Annie,” Essie said, taking a dish towel to the frying pan she’d just finished scrubbing.
“I met her last night. Seems like a nice woman.”
“Maybe too nice. Got herself lassoed into finishing out her ex-husband’s term as mayor. Far as I’m concerned, she’s done a much better job at it than he ever would have, too. How a man could leave a wife and son like that to run off with some young thing he hadn’t known more than a few days—” Essie broke off there, shaking her head. “I don’t understand people anymore. Commitments just don’t mean what they used to.”
On that Jack had to agree. He’d learned that lesson a long time ago. And yet he’d somehow managed to live his own life as a perfect example of a man unable to commit.
Jack was still thinking about that thirty minutes later over another cup of coffee and the rest of the morning paper. Essie had gone off to do an errand in town. The doorbell rang and he went to answer it.
Annie McCabe stood on his front porch, looking as though she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Another woman stood next to her, her body language making it clear she was the one who’d brought them here.
“I’m sorry to come by so early,” Annie said. “This is—”
“Hi, I’m Clarice Atkins,” the other woman interrupted, sticking out a hand. “Annie’s sister and editor of the county newspaper. Is there any way we could take up a little of your time this morning?”
Never would have guessed the sisters part. The two women bore no physical resemblance whatsoever. Not even in the way they carried