She didn't believe him for a moment. He'd love nothing more than to book her himself. He'd probably even volunteer to do the strip search.

Bend over, Miz Koranda.

She shivered, and Ted offered up that slow smile, as if he'd read her mind.

Birdie displayed her first show of enthusiasm. "I have an idea. I'd be more than happy to talk to your father for you. Explain the situation."

I'll just bet you would. "Unfortunately, my father is out of reach right now." "Unfortunately, my father is out of reach right now."

"Maybe Miz Koranda could work it off," Ted said. "Didn't I hear you were short a maid?"

"A maid?" Birdie said. "Oh, she's way too sophisticated sophisticated to clean hotel rooms." to clean hotel rooms."

Meg swallowed hard. "I'd be ... happy to help you out here."

"You'd better think this through," Ted said. "What are you paying, Birdie? Seven-seven-fifty an hour? Once Uncle Sam gets his share-and a.s.suming she works a full shift-that's a couple weeks' work. I doubt Miz Koranda could handle cleaning bathrooms for that long."

"You have no idea what Miz Koranda can handle," Meg said, trying to look much tougher than she felt. "I've been on a cattle drive in Australia and hiked the Annapurna circuit in Nepal." Only ten miles of it, but still...

Birdie lifted her penciled eyebrows and exchanged a look with Ted that they both seemed to understand. "Well ... I do need a maid," Birdie said. "But if you think you can work off your bill by loafing around, you're in for an unhappy surprise."

"I don't think that at all."

"All right, then. Do your job, and I won't press charges. But if you try to skip out, you'll find yourself in the Wynette City Jail."

"Fair enough," Ted said. "I only wish all disputes could be solved so peacefully. It'd be a better world, now wouldn't it?"

"It sure would," Birdie said. She turned her attention back to Meg and pointed toward the door behind the desk. "I'll take you to meet Arlis Hoover, our head housekeeper. You'll be working for her."

"Arlis Hoover?" Ted said. "d.a.m.n, I forgot about that."

"She was here when I took over the place," Birdie said. "How could you forget?"

"I don't know." Ted dug a set of car keys from the pocket of his jeans. "I guess she's just one of those people I try to put out of my mind."

"Tell me about it," Birdie muttered.

And with those ominous words, she led Meg from the lobby into the bowels of the hospitality industry.

Chapter Five.

Emma traveler loved the creamy limestone ranch house she and Kenny shared with their three children. In the pasture beyond the live oaks, the horses grazed in contentment, and a mockingbird called from its perch on the newly whitewashed fence. Before long, the first peaches in their orchard would be ready for picking.

All but one member of the Wynette Public Library Rebuilding Committee had gathered around the pool for their Sat.u.r.day afternoon meeting. Kenny had taken the children into town so the committee could conduct business without any interruptions, although Emma knew from long experience that no business could ever be conducted until each member, whose ages ranged from thirty-two to her own ancient forty, had finished discussing whatever happened to be on her mind.

"I've been saving for years to afford college for Haley, and now she doesn't want to go." Birdie Kittle tugged on her new Tommy Bahama suit, with its diagonal ruching to help camouflage her middle. Her daughter had graduated from Wynette High a few weeks earlier with straight As. Birdie couldn't accept Haley's insistence on attending the county community college in the fall instead of the University of Texas, just as she couldn't accept her looming fortieth birthday. "I was hopin' you could talk some sense into her, Lady Emma."

As the only child of the long-deceased fifth Earl of Woodbourne, Emma was ent.i.tled to the honorific "Lady" but never used it. That, however, hadn't stopped the entire population of Wynette-minus Emma's children and Francesca-from addressing her as "Lady" no matter how many times she'd pleaded with them not to. Even her own husband did it. Unless, of course, they were in bed, in which case...

Emma struggled not to drift into an X-rated reverie. She was a former teacher, a longtime member of the board of education, the town's cultural director, and president of the Friends of the Wynette Public Library, so she was accustomed to questions about other people's children. "Haley is quite bright, Birdie. You'll have to trust her."

"I don't know where she got her brains because it sure wasn't from her ex-father or me." Birdie polished off one of the lemon bars that Patrick, the Travelers' longtime housekeeper, had put out for the group.

Shelby Traveler, who was both Emma's friend and, at thirty-seven, her very young mother-in-law, slipped a floppy sun hat over her ex-sorority girl's blond bob. "Look on the bright side. She wants to keep living at home. I couldn't wait to get away from my mother."

"It doesn't have anything to do with me." Birdie swiped at the crumbs on her bathing suit. "If Kyle Bascom was going to U.T. instead of County Community, Haley'd be packing her suitcases for Austin right now. And he doesn't even know she's alive. I can't stand the idea of one more Kittle woman throwing away her future for a man. I tried to get Ted to talk to her-you know how much she respects him-but he said she's old enough to make her own decisions, which she's not."

They looked up as Kayla Garvin hurried around the corner of the house, the top of her two-piece swimsuit generously displaying the implants her father had bought her several years ago in hopes she could lure Ted into joining the Garvin family. "Sorry I'm late. New arrivals at the shop." She wrinkled her nose, showing her distaste for the clothing resale shop she ran part-time to keep herself busy, but her expression brightened when she saw that Torie hadn't shown up. Even though Torie was a close friend, Kayla didn't like being around anyone whose body was as good as her own, not when she was wearing a swimsuit.

Today, Kayla had piled her blond hair into a fashionably unkempt knot on top of her head and wrapped a white lace sarong low on her hips. As usual, she wore full makeup and her new pave diamond star necklace. She settled on the chaise next to Emma. "I swear, if one more woman tries to p.a.w.n off another old lady Christmas sweater on me, I'm going to lock up that resale shop and go to work for you, Birdie."

"Thanks again for helping me out last week. That's the second time this month Mary Alice has called in sick." Birdie moved her freckled legs out of the sun. "Even though I need the business, I'm glad the press has finally left town. They were like a bunch of crows, poking around in our business and making fun of the town. They dogged Ted everywhere."

Kayla reached for her favorite MAC lip gloss. "I should be thankin' you for letting me help out that day. I wish y'all had been there when Miss Hollywood started scrambling to pay her bill. 'Do you know who I am?' she says, like I'm supposed to start bowing." Kayla slicked the wand over her lips.

"She's got more att.i.tude than anybody I've ever met." Zoey Daniels wore a conservative one-piece nut brown bathing suit a few shades darker than her skin. Believing that African American women needed to be just as vigilant against sun damage as their pale sisters, she'd chosen to sit under one of the striped umbrellas.

At thirty-two, Zoey and Kayla were the youngest members of the group. Despite their differences-one was a fashion-obsessed blond beauty queen; the other the studious young princ.i.p.al of Sybil Chandler Elementary School-they'd been best friends since childhood. Barely five feet tall and slender, Zoey had short, natural hair, large golden-brown eyes, and an air of worry that had become more p.r.o.nounced as cla.s.s sizes had grown and budgets had been cut.

She tugged on a brightly colored stretchy bracelet strung with what seemed to be lumps of dried Play-Doh. "Just the sight of that girl depresses me. I can't wait for her to leave town. Poor Ted."

Shelby Traveler rubbed sunblock on the tops of her feet. "He's being so brave about what happened. It just about breaks my heart."

Ted was special to each of them. Birdie adored him, and he'd been in and out of Shelby's house ever since she'd married Kenny's father, Warren. Kayla and Zoey had both been in love with him, a serious test of their friendship. All Kayla would say about it these days was that those were the best six months of her life. Zoey just sighed and got depressed, so they'd stopped talking about it.

"Maybe it was jealousy that made her do it." Zoey retrieved a copy of Social Studies in Elementary School Social Studies in Elementary School that had fallen out of her book bag and stuffed it back in. "Either she didn't want Lucy to have him, or she took one look at him and wanted him for herself." that had fallen out of her book bag and stuffed it back in. "Either she didn't want Lucy to have him, or she took one look at him and wanted him for herself."

"We all know women who've gotten more than a little obsessive about Ted." Shelby didn't look at either Zoey or Kayla, but she didn't have to. "I sure would like to know what she said to Lucy to convince her to call off the wedding."

Kayla fiddled with her star necklace. "Y'all know how Ted is. Sweet to everybody. But not to Miss I've-Got-Famous-Parents." Kayla shivered. "Who knew Ted Beaudine had a dark side."

"It only makes him hotter." Zoey gave another of her poignant sighs.

Birdie smirked. "Jake Koranda's daughter is scrubbin' my toilets..."

Emma pulled on her sun hat, a perky straw number. "It's difficult for me to understand why her parents aren't helping her."

"They've cut her off," Kayla said firmly. "And it's not hard to figure out why. Meg Koranda is on drugs."

"We don't know that for sure," Zoey said.

"You always want to think the best of everybody," Kayla retorted. "But it's clear as anything. I'll bet her family finally decided they'd had enough."

This was exactly the kind of gossip Emma most disliked. "Best not to start rumors we can't prove," she said, even though she knew she was wasting her breath.

Kayla readjusted her bikini top. "Make sure your cash drawer is locked up tight, Birdie. Drug addicts will steal you blind."

"I'm not worried," Birdie said smugly. "Arlis Hoover's keeping an eye on her."

Shelby made the sign of the cross, and they all laughed.

"Perhaps you'll get lucky and Arlis will take a job at the new golf resort."

Emma had meant to be funny, but a silence fell over the group as each of them pondered how the proposed golf resort and condo complex could change her life for the better. Birdie would have her tearoom and bookstore, Kayla would be able to open the upscale fashion boutique she dreamed of, and the school system would get the extra revenue Zoey yearned for.

Emma exchanged a look with Shelby. Her young mother-in-law would no longer have to watch her husband deal with the stress of being the only large employer in a town where too many were jobless. As for Emma herself ... She and Kenny had enough money to live comfortably, regardless of what happened with the golf resort, but so many of the people they cared about didn't, and the well-being of their hometown meant everything to them.

Emma, however, didn't believe in moping. "Golf resort or not," she said briskly, "we need to discuss how we're going to find the money to get our library repaired and back in operation. Even with the insurance check, we're still miserably short of what we need."

Kayla refastened her blond topknot. "I can't stand having another stupid bake sale. Zoey and I did enough of that in junior high."

"Or a silent auction," Shelby said.

"Or a car wash or a raffle." Zoey swatted at a fly.

"We need something big," Birdie said. "Something that will attract everybody's attention."

They talked for another hour, but no one could come up with a single idea about what that might be.

Arlis Hoover pointed a stubby finger toward the bathtub Meg had just scrubbed for the second time. "You call that clean, Miss Movie Star? I don't call that clean."

Meg no longer bothered pointing out she wasn't a movie star. Arlis knew that very well. Exactly why she kept repeating it.

Arlis had dyed black hair and a body like gnawed gristle. She fed off a permanent sense of injustice, certain that only bad luck separated her from wealth, beauty, and opportunity. She listened to wacko radio shows as she worked, shows that proved Hillary Clinton had once eaten the flesh of a newborn child and that PBS was entirely funded by left-wing movie stars bent on giving h.o.m.os.e.xuals control of the world. Like they'd really want it.

Arlis was so mean that Meg suspected even Birdie was a little afraid of her, although Arlis did her best to curb her more psychotic impulses when she was around her employer. But she saved Birdie money by getting the most out of a tiny housekeeping staff, so Birdie left her alone.

"Dominga, come over here and look at this bathtub. Is that what you folks in Mexico call clean?"

Dominga was an illegal, in no position to disagree with Arlis, and she shook her head. "No. Muy sucia. Muy sucia."

Meg hated Arlis Hoover more than she'd ever hated anyone, with the possible exception of Ted Beaudine.

What are you paying your housekeepers, Birdie? Seven, seven-fifty an hour?

No. Birdie paid them ten-fifty an hour, as Ted surely knew. All of them except Meg.

Her back ached, her knees throbbed, she'd cut her thumb on a broken mirror, and she was hungry. For the past week, she'd been existing on pillow mints and the inn's leftover breakfast m.u.f.fins, smuggled to her by Carlos, the maintenance man. But those economies couldn't make up for her mistake that first night when she'd taken a room in a cheap motel, only to wake up the next morning realizing that even cheap motels cost money, and that the one hundred dollars in her wallet had shrunk to fifty dollars overnight. She'd been sleeping in her car out by the gravel quarry ever since and waiting until Arlis left for the day before sneaking into an unoccupied room to shower.

It was a miserable existence, but she hadn't yet picked up the phone. She hadn't tried to reach Dylan again, or called Clay. She hadn't phoned Georgie, Sasha, or April. Most important, she hadn't mentioned her situation to her parents when they'd called. She hugged that knowledge to herself every time she unclogged another fetid toilet or dug one more sc.u.mmy hair plug from a bathtub drain. In a week or so, she'd be out of here. Then what? She had no idea.

With a large family reunion scheduled to arrive soon, Arlis could only spare a few minutes to torture Meg. "Turn that mattress before you change the sheets, Miss Movie Star, and I want all the sliding doors on this floor washed. Don't let me find one fingerprint."

"Afraid the FBI will discover it belongs to you?" Meg said sweetly. "What do they want you for anyway?"

Arlis nearly went catatonic whenever Meg talked back to her, and an angry rash exploded on her veiny cheeks. "All I have to do is say one word to Birdie, and you'll be locked behind bars."

Maybe, but with the inn filling up for the weekend and a shortage of housekeepers, Arlis couldn't afford to lose her right now. Still, best not to press it.

When Meg was finally alone, she gazed longingly at the sparkling bathtub. Last night, Arlis had stayed late to check inventory, so Meg hadn't been able to sneak in a shower, and with the inn booked up, the prospects didn't look much better for tonight. She reminded herself that she'd spent days on muddy trails without giving a thought to indoor plumbing. But those excursions had been recreational, not her real life, although now that she looked back, it seemed as though recreation had been her real life.

She was struggling to flip the mattress when she sensed someone behind her. She prepared herself for another confrontation with Arlis only to see Ted Beaudine in the doorway.

He leaned against the doorjamb with one shoulder, his ankles crossed, perfectly at home in the kingdom over which he ruled. Sweat glued her mint green polyester maid's dress to her skin, and she dabbed her forehead against her arm. "My lucky day. A visit from the Chosen One. Cured any lepers lately?"

"Too busy with the loaves and fishes thing."

He didn't even smile. b.a.s.t.a.r.d. A couple of times this week as she'd adjusted drapes or wiped off a windowsill with one of the toxic products the inn insisted on using, she'd spotted him outside. City Hall, it turned out, occupied the same building as the police station. This morning, she'd stood in a second-floor window and watched him honest-to-G.o.d stop fricking traffic to help an old lady across the street. She'd also noticed a lot of young women entering the building through the side door that led directly to the munic.i.p.al offices. Maybe on city business. More likely monkey business.

He nodded toward the mattress. "Looks like you could use some help with that?"

She was exhausted, the mattress was heavy, and she swallowed her pride. "Thanks."

He looked behind him into the hallway. "Nope. Don't see anybody."

Letting herself get suckered in gave her the willpower to wedge her shoulder under the bottom corner of the mattress and hoist it. "What do you want?" she grunted.

"Checking up on you. One of my duties as mayor is to make sure our vagrant population isn't accosting innocent citizens."

She jammed her shoulder farther under the mattress and retaliated with the rottenest thing she could think of. "Lucy's been texting me. So far, she hasn't mentioned you." Or much of anything, just a sentence or two saying she was all right and she didn't want to talk. Meg heaved the mattress higher.

"Give her my best," he said, as casually as if he were referring to a distant cousin.

"You don't even care where she is, do you?" Meg lifted the mattress another few inches. "Whether she's all right or not? She could have been kidnapped by terrorists." Fascinating how easily a basically nice person like herself could turn nasty.

"I'm sure someone would have mentioned it."

She struggled to catch her breath. "It seems to have escaped your supposedly gigantic brain that I'm not responsible for Lucy ditching you, so why make me your personal punching bag?"

"I have to take out my boundless fury on somebody." He recrossed his ankles.

"You're pathetic." But she'd barely gotten the words out of her mouth when she lost her balance and tumbled over the box spring. The mattress slammed on top of her.

Cool air slithered over the backs of her bare thighs. The skirt of her uniform bunched above her hips, giving him an unrestricted view of her bright yellow panties and possibly the dragon inked on her hip. G.o.d had punished her for being rude to his Perfect Creation by turning her into a big Posturepedic sandwich.

She heard his m.u.f.fled voice. "You all right in there?"

The mattress didn't move.

She squirmed, trying to work herself free and getting no help. Her skirt crept to her waist. Putting the image of yellow panties and a dragon tattoo out of her head, she vowed not to let him see her defeated by a mattress. Struggling for air, she curled her toes into the carpet and, with one final contortion, pushed the bulky weight onto the floor.

Ted gave a low whistle. "d.a.m.n, that is one heavy son of a b.i.t.c.h."