A Little Town In Texas

Cal leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “A reporter could be an advantage to us. Exclusive is a national magazine. It could stir up national sympathy.”

“Sympathy? That and a dollar’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” J.T. said. “But don’t try it without the dollar.”

“The pen is mightier than sword,” Cal observed.

“Fabian isn’t using a sword,” J.T. retorted. “He’s using Uzis and flame-throwers and stealth bombers.”

Cal raised an eyebrow. “How good is this lawyer that’s coming?”

“Mel Belyle? I hear he’s good. Very good. And motivated. He’s got a score to settle.”

Cal uncrossed his arms, hooked his thumbs in his belt and strolled to the fireplace. “How about the other one? The lawyer that deserted Fabian? And married the local girl?”

J.T.’s forehead furrowed. “Nick? He’s good, too. And he’s on our side. But he can’t do much. Fabian’s got him hog-tied.”

“Exclusivity clause?” Cal asked. “Confidentiality clause? Corporate secrets, that kind of bull dooky?”

J.T. gave his son a long, scrutinizing look. It always surprised him when Cal said something knowledgeable about business or law. J.T. sometimes felt that Cal’s wealth was a strange illusion, and that his younger son was still a rambling kid, without a serious thought in his head.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “That kind of bull dooky.”

Nick Belyle had revealed company secrets, and it had cost him. He lost his pension, his company stock, and he would probably never work at the corporate level again.

Nick was hardly poor—he could easily live on his savings and his own investments for years. He could also open a private practice, which he intended to do, right here in Crystal Creek.

What Nick could not do for one full year was get involved in any sort of business that ran counter to Fabian’s. That included the Claro County Citizens’ Organization. Nick wanted to help—but he couldn’t even give free advice. If he did, Fabian could have him fined and disbarred.

“So Martin Avery’s handling most of the legal eagle stuff right now?” Cal asked.

“Some of it,” J.T. said. “With the help of some Dallas lawyers. But Martin’s tired. He says this case is out of his league. He said—he said that he wanted your advice. That maybe you knew some high-powered people—but not too high-powered. I’m not made of money.”

Cal nodded, his expression serious. J.T. had another surge of an emotion he couldn’t identify—or didn’t want to. It didn’t seem fitting that a man as learned and careful as Martin should turn for advice to Cal.

Tyler had always joked that Cal had spent his formative years getting bucked off horses and landing on his head. There’d been times in Cal’s wild years that J.T. could only agree.

“I want to meet Nick Belyle,” Cal said. “Soon. Could you arrange it?”

“He wants to meet you, too,” J.T. said, with the same unpleasant feeling. “He’d come over tonight if you’re willing.”

“I’m willing,” said Cal. “In the meantime I’m going to talk to your better half and mine about Lettie’s shindig.” He paused, then gave his father a level look. “You told Tyler about Lettie Mae—that she’s leaving?”

J.T. muttered yes. He had told Tyler first because it seemed only fitting. After all, Tyler was the elder and he still lived on the Double C. He saw Lettie Mae nearly every day.

Cal said, “How’d he take it?”

“Hard,” J.T. said, suddenly feeling bone-weary. Tyler took everything hard; it was his nature.

“Maybe I should talk to him,” Cal said.

“He doesn’t want to talk,” J.T. said. “He’s out in the vineyard, and he’s not answering his cell phone.”

Cal’s normally playful eyes looked troubled. “Are he and Ruth getting along all—”

J.T. cut him off. “What goes on between them is their business. I don’t interfere.” Neither should you, was the unspoken message.

Cal’s expression didn’t change. “It’s okay to ask Ruth about a party?”

“I suppose,” J.T. said without enthusiasm. “And ask your sister. Don’t leave her out.”

“I wouldn’t leave Lynn out,” Cal said. “You know that.”

“And another thing,” J.T. said. “I want Lettie Mae to have a nice send-off. But don’t go wild. We’ll split the expense four ways—you, me, Tyler, Lynn. This is not some big show for you to put on, understand?”

Cal stood a bit straighter and looked him in the eye. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he said, “I understand.”

And his unspoken message was, I understand better than you think, Daddy. He turned and left the study.

CRONIN HAD TOLD KITT she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting Fabian’s Crystal Creek man to talk to her. Yet here that man was, ready and eager to tell her about himself. Delightful.

For once, Kitt didn’t allow herself to dwell on journalistic ethics. After all, Mel Belyle had pursued her, not the other way around.

And, Kitt rationalized, she hadn’t exactly lied to him. He’d jumped to a conclusion, and she’d helped keep him jumping. He thought he was making a conquest. He didn’t know he was becoming one.

She decided to pry slowly, not to stir his suspicions. “What kind of a name is Melburn?” she asked, just a hint of teasing in her voice.

“My uncle was named Melburn,” he said, “My grandfather spent time in Australia when he was in the navy. He named him for the city.”

Kitt looked again at his card and frowned. “Melbourne? It’s spelled differently.”

“My family wasn’t known for its spelling skills.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile.

She smiled back. “What were they known for?”

“Ah,” he said, as the waiter set down a pitcher of cola and two glasses. “Refreshment. May I?” He offered to pour her drink.

“Please,” she said. “You were saying about your family?”

He filled her glass as he spoke. “What were we known for? Nothing special, I guess.” As he filled his own glass, his Rolex glinted in the restaurant’s dim light.

She said, “You seem to have done all right for yourself.”

“I was lucky,” he said. He lifted his drink in a toast. “Here’s to getting to know each other better.”

She clicked her glass against his. “Much better.”

He grinned. It was a charming grin, and he used it like a weapon of seduction. Don full mind and body armor, she warned herself.

He said, “I can’t believe it. A story editor for Uptown Girls. You know who my favorite character is? Fleur. The one with red hair like yours. I bet she’s based on you.”