Winner Takes All (4 page)

Patty Silvano was her mother's neighbor. She and Virginia McAllister, Beverly Rowley, and Lois Jenkins were all born during World War II. They'd convened into a group of four because they were Blanco Valley's longest living citizens, not to mention two of them were descendants of the town's founders. They'd earned the nickname the Beehive Mafia because they styled their slate-gray hair as a throwback to the sixties and loved to chirp in people's ears about the goings-on in town. They also met at the city park twice a week for cardio in the park.

Lord help them if Ruth Turner joined that horde of busybodies.

“Honey,” Ruth commented. “They hate being called that.”

Annabelle was pretty sure they thrived on the notoriety of it, but whatever.

“How did the first practice go today?” Ruth asked, changing the subject. Yet again.

Annabelle reached for the cookie jar and snagged an oatmeal raisin she'd made a few days ago. “As expected,” she hedged. No need to go into her already developing issues with their coach. The one who made her feel like she needed to fluff her hair.

“I heard that Blake Carpenter is something to look at,” Ruth commented.

Annabelle merely shrugged. “I guess so.” Understatement of the year.

Ruth only lifted a brow.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked her mother.

“Patty told me a woman would have to be dead not to notice that guy.”

Annabelle finished off the cookie and reached for another. She'd have to do an extra thirty minutes of yoga to burn them off. “And?”
And let's please end this conversation now.

“And is he as hunky as Patty says?” Ruth grinned, creating deep lines in the paper-thin skin of her cheeks. “Does he have a rippling chest and a cement-hard butt?”

Annabelle nearly choked on a raisin. “Mother, it really creeps me out when you talk about men that way.”

“Honey, I might be old but I'm not dead. And I want grandkids.” She gulped some more water. “It's obvious I'm not getting any out of your sister,” she muttered.

Annabelle left that particular subject alone and stared at her mother. “What do grandkids have to do with Blake Carpenter?” But, yeah, she knew. Thinking of kids made her think of how they were made. And no way did she want to think about sex and Blake Carpenter at the same time.

Ruth waved a hand toward her daughter. “You're single. He's single. And from what I hear pretty darn easy on the eyes.”

Annabelle lowered her brows. “How do you know he's single?”

Ruth lifted one shoulder. “Patty told me. She's friends with the mother of Blake's best friend.”

“The guy's been in town how long, and you're already gossiping about him?”

“It's not gossip, Annabelle. It's just”—she waved her hand in a circle—“neighborly conversation.”

Yeah, right.

Annabelle replaced the lid to the cookie jar and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I work with the guy, so getting involved with him would be inappropriate. Besides, I have no desire to get married again.”

“Honey, not all men are selfish pricks like Nathan,” Ruth said in a soft voice.

Not only had he been cheating, but also the woman he'd cheated with had no idea he'd even been married. It was a small comfort to know she hadn't been the only one to succumb to Nathan's charm and deceit.

Ruth had been supportive, to the point where she'd been all Annabelle had to lean on. Deep down, though, she knew her mother had been disappointed her oldest daughter hadn't been headed for that typical white-picket-fence life. The one Annabelle and Naomi had growing up.

“That's true, Mom,” she responded. “But not all men are princes like Dad was.”

Ruth's mouth turned up in a small smile. “Your dad was one of a kind, wasn't he?”

The oven dinged, and Annabelle turned to slide the casserole in. The task was a welcome distraction, for she knew the tears would come if they talked about her father any further. Annabelle had adored the man and his death had left a gaping hole in their family.

Behind her, Ruth sighed. “Honey, I just can't bear the thought of you being alone. It's not natural.”

Annabelle set the timer on the oven and straightened. “I'm not really alone, Mom. I have you. I have Stella,” she said of her best friend. “And I have my work.” She placed a hand on the counter. “I stay plenty busy.”

“That's not what I mean,” Ruth said.

Annabelle smiled at the woman who'd always been the rock of their family. “I know,” she agreed. “But I'm happy.”

Ruth opened her mouth to counter Annabelle's statement but was interrupted by a knock on the front door, followed by Charlie's furious barking.

The two women left the kitchen, trailing behind Charlie as he leapt off the recliner and scampered toward the front door. The dog jumped up and down, yapping like a maniac as the door opened and Patty Silvano poked her head through.

“Hello.” The older woman, with her traditional up-do, waggled her fingers and managed to shove her way past Ruth's guard dog.

“Come on in, Patty.” Ruth waved a hand, then motioned for Charlie to settle down. “Charlie, that's enough.”

Patty, cradling two jars of some kind of food in one hand, knelt before the dog and scratched Charlie between the ears. “Oh, aren't you a good boy,” she crooned to him.

Charlie, instead of going on a wild rampage like he always did with Annabelle, rolled over onto his back and stuck all four legs in the air.

Ruth slid Annabelle a sly look. “See, you just have to know how to work the dog.”

Annabelle barely resisted the urge to bare her teeth, because Charlie had never been that calm for her. Maybe it was fear of the towering beehive that had Charlie admitting submission.

Yeah, that had to be it. And not having anything to do with Charlie simply not liking his owner's daughter.

Patty straightened and smoothed a hand down her blue polyester pants. She pasted a wide smile on her pale face, which deepened the grooves in her forehead and cheeks. “I wanted to bring over some of my peaches.” Patty held up the two jars, which had sliced peaches floating in syrup.

Ruth accepted the gift from her neighbor. “Aren't you sweet, Patty? Thank you.” She gestured next to her, toward Annabelle. “You remember my daughter Annabelle, don't you?”

Patty's grin deepened. “Of course I do, and you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Annabelle was about to thank the woman for her kind compliment, when she continued. “No wonder the new coach was all flustered this morning.” Patty actually winked, and Annabelle had the feeling she was trying to be coy, or something equally horrifying. All Annabelle could feel was the heat flaming into her cheeks as the two women stared at her, as though she was supposed to respond with something. But what?

Thank you?

Yes, you figured out my evil plan?

Or how about, mind your own business?

Annabelle shook her head, but Patty shoved past her as she linked arms with Ruth. “Lois's daughter was at practice this morning because, you know, her oldest son is a junior on the team.” Patty tossed Annabelle a half grin over her shoulder, as though sharing some inside secret about that piece of information. “And Lois's daughter told her that Mr. Carpenter didn't seem too happy to have Annabelle there today.”

Ruth jammed her hands onto her bony hips. “Now why would that man have an issue with my daughter?”

Patty leaned toward Ruth and whispered, “Because clearly he's threatened by a beautiful woman.”

Oh good Lord.

Ruth slowly nodded as though the truth had just been revealed to her. “Oh, he's one of those,” she whispered back. “A man who can't handle when a woman is in a position of authority.” She stepped toward Annabelle and wrapped her thin fingers around Annabelle's shoulders. “Honey, you don't back down from him, you hear me?”

Annabelle smiled, because if she didn't, she might scream at the ridiculous conversation Patty had started. Reason number one she didn't want her mother doing cardio in the park with the Beehive Mafia. Also, she didn't want to come over one day and see Ruth's hair styled in a five-foot twist on her head.

“Mom,” Annabelle started as she peeled her mother's fingers off her shoulders. “I think Lois's daughter is mistaken. I'm sure Blake isn't threatened by me.”

“Honey, a man as good-looking and dominant as he is would never take kindly to a female, especially one who looks like you, invading his territory,” Patty commented. “Virginia confirmed it, you know,” she said to Ruth.

“Virginia was at practice too?” Annabelle asked.

Patty waved a hand in the air. “No, honey. She saw Mr. Carpenter the other day when he was at his cousin Brandon's house. Said he's a hot piece of ass.” Patty held her arthritic hands up, jingling the beaded bracelets on her wrist. “Her words, not mine.”

Annabelle almost gagged. “You know what? I just remembered I have a root canal I'm late for.”

Patty forged on. “We were hoping to catch a glimpse of him this morning when we were doing our cardio, but Brandon was jogging by himself.” Patty nudged Annabelle in the ribs. “You know that's why we started cardio in the park, right? It's the best way to catch all those young studs without their shirts on. Lois managed to snap a picture of Brandon and added him to our Tumblr page. It's under the Queen Bees.”

Gag me.
Though Annabelle wouldn't mind seeing Blake without a shirt on…

Okay, no. That would be bad. She didn't need any more reasons to be fantasizing about the man.

Patty glanced at her jeweled watch. “I have to get home and catch me some
Judge Judy
.” The old woman shot Annabelle and Ruth a smile. “I love how she doesn't take crap from anyone. Kind of reminds me of me.”

With a chuckle that some people would construe as mildly devious, she was out the door, Charlie running after her as though he wanted just one more belly rub. The terrier lowered to his hind legs and tilted his head to one side at the closed door.

Okay, the dog could be cute sometimes. When he wasn't being so damn annoying.

Annabelle turned toward her mother, who was still clutching the jars of peaches in her arms. “Mom, please don't do cardio in the park with them.”

Ruth turned toward the kitchen. “Oh, honey, they're harmless.”

“More like ridiculous,” Annabelle corrected.

Ruth shot her daughter a glance over her shoulder. “Honey, I thought you would be happy that I found something to do with myself. You were just telling me the other day that I needed to get in some exercise after I'm healed.”

“Yes, but not with the Beehive Mafia.” She jutted her index finger toward her mother. “If you come home with a hairstyle like that and polyester pants, I'm disowning you.”

Ruth clasped Annabelle's face in her soft hands and placed a kiss on both her cheeks. “I love that you worry about me.”

Annabelle couldn't help the smile that crept up her mouth. At times she felt like the worst nag, always telling her mom she needed to do this or more of that. Over the years, she'd become convinced that her mother was ignoring her, that Annabelle was wasting her breath on a woman who wanted to do her own thing.

“I just want you to be happy, Mom,” Annabelle admitted.

Ruth's smile slipped. “You're starting to sound like your sister.”

When Naomi had first left the states at the age of twenty-one to finish her college studies in Central America, Ruth had been supportive and even excited for her youngest daughter. But the excitement had faded when Naomi announced her plans to stay abroad.

One more year had turned into six, during which time Annabelle's sister had flitted from one Latin country to the next. Her most recent endeavor was Cusco, Peru, where she'd obtained financing to open a hostel.

It left Annabelle no choice but to be the primary care-giver for their mother.

Annabelle knew Naomi didn't intend to be selfish. She just went where she wanted without giving much thought to anything else.

Not that Annabelle was bitter or anything.

Really, she wasn't.

“I'd like to bring you to my studio one day next week and work on some exercises,” she said, needing to change the subject from her sister. When Ruth only stared, Annabelle pushed. “The doctor said you need to be working with a physical therapist. It's important that you work on your hip.”

“I know that, Annabelle.”

Great. Now her mother was upset, which turned into irritable. And irritable Ruth was about as pleasant as a wild cat.

“Why don't you go sit back down and I'll bring you some dinner when this is done cooking,” she suggested.

Ruth swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “Charlie needs his dinner first.”

The glittering moisture that had been wiped away from Ruth's eyes gave Annabelle a moment's pause. Her mother had never been a crier, or showed any kind of emotion for that matter. That sort of thing was awkward for a woman who had an easier time telling her kids how to use proper table manners than she did saying “I love you.”

Nevertheless, Annabelle approached her mom just as she opened the refrigerator door to where the dog's chicken and rice was stored in a container. She placed her hands on her mother's bony shoulders and turned her around. “I'll get Charlie's dinner. You go sit down.”

Ruth nodded but looked everywhere but at Annabelle.

“Mom,” she said in a gentle voice. “Naomi doesn't stay away because she doesn't care about you. She doesn't realize.” Annabelle looked into her mother's rheumy green eyes. “She's always been like that. It's not because she doesn't love us.”

Ruth nodded again, then said, “I know. I just wished she knew how much I miss her.”