Slow Talkin' Texan. Mary Baxter Lynn

she hadn’t come in when she had, would they have been on the floor making love? Kids!

      “Are you going to tell Mother?”

      “No, you are.”

      Though big and strong like his daddy, he seemed to wilt like an unwatered flower in the hot sun.

      “I...can’t.”

      “Oh, yes, you can.”

      His features turned a sickly green. “She’ll kill me.”

      “I doubt that, but she might want to.”

      Kyle’s mouth turned down, giving it a sullen twist. “She’s been on my case about everything lately.”

      “You should’ve thought of that before you pulled this little stunt.” Ellen focused her attention on Janis. “What’s your excuse?”

      “I didn’t think you’d catch us,” the girl said with unexpected honesty. “I figured Kyle would be gone before you got here.”

      Ellen shifted her gaze back to her nephew. “So you weren’t planning on playing hooky?”

      “Nah.”

      Ellen didn’t believe him for a minute, but she wasn’t about to argue. She felt sorry for her sister. This wasn’t the first trouble Kyle had been in, and it wouldn’t be the last. Still, Meg was going to have a conniption fit. With her husband ill and on the road, this stunt would worsen an already volatile situation.

      Ellen held out her hand. “The key, Janis.”

      What a mess, Ellen thought, as she took the key from the girl and slipped it into the pocket of her slacks. Janis Waller’s parents were both wealthy and well-respected. She had met them at a party shortly after she’d arrived in Nacogdoches. The party had been in their home, and they had asked her to give their daughter a job. Janis needed something to keep her busy when she wasn’t in class, they had told her.

      Ellen could understand why now. But she had trusted Janis enough to give her a key in the event that she herself couldn’t get there to open on time. Until now, the young woman had never given her a moment’s hint that she was anything other than trustworthy and reliable.

      “When did you two become an item?” Ellen asked into the growing silence.

      The kids looked at each other, then both shrugged. “Several months ago,” Janis finally said.

      “I see.”

      Janis fiddled with the collar of her blouse. “Are you going to fire me?”

      “Don’t you think I should?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Janis said, lowering her head.

      “Only I wish you’d give me another chance.” Her head popped up, and her eyes were pleading. “My parents’ ll kill me, too.”

      Ellen didn’t bother to hide her disgust. “Cut the dramatics, both of you. While I’m certainly offended by your actions, I’m more upset that Kyle wasn’t in school.”

      “I hate school,” Kyle muttered.

      “So did I,” Ellen said coldly, “but I still went.”

      “You don’t understand.”

      Janis looked at him, then reached for his hand. “Please, just go. Okay?”

      “Yeah, I’m outta here.”

      He leaned over and kissed Janis full on the lips, as if to show Ellen that she didn’t scare him. Ellen swallowed a sigh along with the urge to grab him, turn him over her knee and wallop the living daylights out of him. He was too old and too big for such antics.

      Besides, he wasn’t her kid. Meg and Ralph were responsible for her nephew’s behavior, not she, thank goodness. However, she was worried. Kyle’s armor of belligerence was a legitimate concern.

      Once he was gone, Janis stared at the floor again before looking back up at Ellen. “I’m sorry. Really I am.”

      “I believe you.”

      “You do?”

      Ellen smiled. “Yes.”

      “What about Kyle?”

      “What about him?”

      Janis hesitated, a frown marring her forehead. “He’s been acting kind of squirrelly lately. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

      “Me, either. But right now, you and I have work to do. There are six boxes to unpack. That’s your job.”

      “Then I’m not fired?”

      “No. I believe in second chances, but not third ones.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      

      

      Ellen ran a hand through her hair, and her palm came away moist. Damn, but it was hot, she thought even though the air conditioner was on as far as she dared turn it. The shop was still in the red, and she had to be careful.

      What a day, and it wasn’t over yet. The morning’s escapade with Janis and Kyle had started her off on the wrong foot. Things had gone from bad to worse. When Janis started unboxing the freight, half of the items shipped turned out to be either wrong or damaged.

      She’d been furious and still was. But there wasn’t anything she could do about the problem except reorder, which took time.

      Ellen glanced at her watch, noticing that closing time was only thirty minutes away. She had expected to hear from Meg sometime during the day; so far she hadn’t. Apparently Kyle hadn’t told her yet or she would have called demanding Ellen’s side of the story.

      Just how serious were Kyle and Janis? But how serious did kids nowadays have to be to make love? God, she hoped Janis wouldn’t turn up pregnant. That thought sent a chill darting through her. At this moment, she didn’t envy her sister having a teenager.

      The Lord seemed to have known what he was doing when he hadn’t given her a child.

      The buzzer on the door sounded, drawing her attention away from her maudlin thoughts. She smiled at the customer, only to have that smile disappear. Mrs. Cavanaugh. What had she done to deserve this? Ellen asked herself. Especially at the end of a hellish day?

      “I’m glad I caught you,” Ruth Cavanaugh said in her haughtiest tone.

      “Me, too,” Ellen lied, plastering a fixed smile on her lips.

      This tall, horse-faced woman had been her cross to bear from the first day she’d opened the shop. She was one of the richest, but most miserable, women Ellen had ever met.

      “This tea set I bought yesterday doesn’t work.”

      “What’s wrong with it?”

      “It’s the wrong color.”

      Ellen sighed and held on to her temper by a thread. “Would you like to get another one?”

      “No. The other colors aren’t right, either. Besides, for what it is, it’s too expensive.”

      Bitch. Ellen’s fixed smile broadened. “I’ll be happy to credit your account.”

      “I want my money back.”

      “That’s not my policy.”

      Mrs. Cavanaugh’s watery-blue eyes—a perfect match for her watery-blue hair, Ellen thought cattily—hardened. “Then change your policy.”

      “Fine.” Ellen opened the cash drawer and withdrew a hundred dollars in twenties. “Here’s your money.”

      “Thank you.” With that, Ruth Cavanaugh turned and marched out the door.

      “Damn!” Ellen muttered, feeling her stomach churn.