Bittersweet (22 page)

Amy shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, sorry. Sharon and Chris and I have . . . uh, something else we need to do. I'm staying in Boerne tonight, with Sharon.”

China nodded. “Sure thing—but next time you find yourself in the area, save some time for a stop at the ranch. Bittersweet, it's called. South
on 187 about ten miles—watch for the sign on the right. I'm sure Leatha would love to give you the grand tour.”

“We're all set for another run,” Chris announced, and with a whir, the drone lifted off into the sky over the Sabinal River, as Mack and China watched the images on Amy's iPad. They were so clear that Mack could see the details of leaves, rocks on the shore, a pair of turkey vultures lunching on roadkill on Johnson Street, at the north edge of the park.

“Amazing,” China murmured, shaking her head. “Wow. Talk about spies in the skies. No wonder the ACLU is asking privacy questions about these drones.”

•   •   •

T
WENTY
minutes later, Amy, Chris, and Sharon had packed up their gear and driven off, and Mack and China were sitting over complimentary slices of guiche and glasses of iced hibiscus tea at Jennie's restaurant, just off Main Street. The dining area (once the two front rooms of a frame house) was small but homey. The wooden tables were covered with red-checked oilcloth, the chairs were painted red and green, and green plants in red pots hung in front of the uncurtained windows. In warm weather, wide doors opened out onto a brick-paved patio shaded by a green canvas awning and surrounded on three sides by an herb garden. It was still early for lunch, and the dining area was empty. So before they sat down, China and Jennie—a small, delicate woman with a ready smile and a red bandana tied around her dark hair—had given Mack a quick tour of the garden, pointing out the new plants they had settled into the soil that morning: several rosemaries, sage, lavender, thyme, chives and garlic chives, oregano, and Mexican mint marigold.

“That's our Southern substitute for tarragon,” China said, pointing to
the Mexican mint marigold. “It's too hot in Texas for tarragon, but this plant loves our heat and humidity, and in the fall, it has a pretty marigold-like bloom. There's another bonus, too—the deer won't eat it. In fact, if you scatter a few plants around in the garden, it might even keep them away from the other stuff.” She made a face. “Although when it comes to deer, there are never any guarantees.”

“China brought us some other pretties to put in, too,” Jennie said. “Coreopsis, lantana, Mexican petunia, and several different salvias.” She looked around with a smile. “It's going to be lovely here all summer. And I'll have all the herbs I could ever want for cooking. I'm even thinking that I could make up a few packets of fresh herbs for over-the-counter sale during the summer.”

“Now, that's a good idea,” China said approvingly. “We do that in our tearoom. Rosemary is always popular, but people also snap up our lavender, thyme, and sage. We usually clip a recipe to the package, as well. Sometimes, a recipe for one of our menu items.”

“Great!” Jennie exclaimed. “We'll try that.” She waved a hand. “And you can't leave without having a slice of our herb quiche. Take a seat and I'll bring some out for you.”

Now, at the table, Mack tasted her quiche. “This is so good,” she said, and smiled. “Pie fixes everything, you know—at least, that's what they say over at the Lost Maples Café. And quiche is pie, isn't it?”

“Yep,” China answered, digging into hers. “A cheese and egg custard with added savories, baked in a pie shell. And yes, I agree. Pie fixes everything.” She tasted. “And this quiche is very good. Maybe we should take a piece to Sam. He needs some fixing.”

Mack read the concern on China's face. “Have you heard from the hospital today? How is he?”

“Leatha called this morning before she left. The nurse said he was doing ‘fairly well,' whatever that means.” China's face darkened and her mouth turned down. “I don't mind telling you that I'm worried, Mack. Mom and Sam are committed to this new project of theirs—filling their guest lodge with eco-tourists and birders. It's something they really want to do, and I'd love to see them succeed. But it's going to take a huge amount of work. If Sam's not in shape to help out, I don't know what's going to happen. I'm not sure my mother can handle it alone.”

“I thought that's why Sue Ellen was there yesterday. Your mom told me she's going to help out.”

“Yes, but it's short-term. She wants to enroll in college. She put me in touch with her sister, Patsy, who's been working here with Jennie. I met Patsy this morning. I like her very much. She seems capable and interested, and I think she'll do a good job.” China wrinkled her nose. “But even with help, there's still going to be a strain. I'm worried.”

Mack took a bite of quiche. “I think we all worry about our folks,” she said. “I know I do. Every time I see my mother, she looks a little older and a little more tired. She works too hard. I tell her to ease up, but she keeps insisting that she's fine. I know she's not telling me the whole truth, but it's not because she's secretive or upset with me or anything like that. She wants me to have my own life. She doesn't want to worry me.”

China nodded, understanding. “But there are times when we have to worry. Take Ruby's mother, Doris, for instance. She has Alzheimer's. After a lot of back-and-forth hassle, Ruby and her sister finally got her settled in a facility in Pecan Springs—it's supposed to be the best one. She gets good care there, but she's wandered out a time or two. Ruby and Ramona continually worry about her.” She raised her shoulders and lowered them, puffing out a long breath. “Maybe it's simply the lot of
daughters to worry about their moms. But at least there are two of them to share the load. Ruby and Ramona, I mean.”

“It could be just a daughter thing,” Mack said, and chuckled. “I don't notice my brothers complaining about losing any sleep over Mom. As far as they're concerned, everything's copacetic.”

“And I'm an only child,” China said ruefully. “So maybe I get to lose twice the sleep. You think?”

They were silent for a moment, reflecting on this, then China said, “So tell me about this deputy sheriff, Mack. This wizard guy who knows how to fix loose vacuum hoses in a Toyota.”

Mack giggled, then blushed. “There's not much to tell, actually. Ethan—his name is Ethan Conroy—is nice, and he's interested. At least I think he is.” She thought of that kiss and her heart raced. “I don't know him very well yet, though. So I guess maybe I shouldn't jump to conclusions.”

China was regarding her thoughtfully. “Sometimes it happens fast. You've been going out with somebody else, maybe a couple of somebodies, but you keep finding out that they're not what you thought, they're not important enough to take up your time and soak up your energy. And then this person happens along and you just know, right away.”

Not important enough.
Mack wondered whether China was reading her mind. But she only said, “Was it like that with you and Mike?”

“Sort of. I mean, yes, I knew. I'd had enough men in my life to know that McQuaid was the right one.
But I put up a fight. I loved being with him, but I thought I didn't want to be a couple. And after we finally agreed to be a couple, I loved that, but I thought I didn't want to be a
married
couple. On principle. Nothing against McQuaid, just some silly rule
I'd made for myself, insisting on having my own life, making my own decisions, as a single woman.” China rolled her eyes. “Now, looking back on it, I want to say something like, ‘You idiot! What did you think you were waiting for?' I shouldn't have wasted any time. I should have dived into it, the minute I was sure. Life is too short.”

“I'm nowhere near the point of diving into anything,” Mack said with a sigh. “And I have no idea how Ethan feels.” But then she remembered that kiss again, urgent and demanding, Ethan's body pressing urgently against hers, and the desire she had felt and couldn't conceal. She flushed. Maybe she was ready. Maybe she
knew
, but she was unwilling—or afraid—to admit it.

China reached across the table and squeezed Mack's hand. “Well, don't dally. That's all I'm saying. Trust yourself to know. And to be right.” She paused. “Do you have much in common?”

Mack had to smile at that. “Well, we both have heelers, which is pretty interesting, because that's a breed that doesn't appeal to a lot of people. And Toyota trucks. And we both like our eggs over easy. Oh, and turtles. He even recognized my Texas map turtle.”

China chuckled. “Well, that settles it. Turtles. You two are obviously meant for each other.”

Mack's smile became a laugh. “And horses,” she added. “His is named Buddy Holly. He had another one once, named Willie Nelson.”

China forked up the last of her pie. “This guy obviously has the right musical credentials—for a Texan, that is.”

That brought another laugh. “He asked me to go riding with him,” Mack added, “when we can find the time. Which might be kind of a challenge, between his shifts and mine, and both of us on call.”

“Sounds to me like a totally exceptional guy,” China said, and her smile widened. “I guess I can stop worrying about your love life and concentrate all my worry on my mom. But do keep me posted on developments.”

“I will,” Mack promised. After a moment, she added thoughtfully, “Kind of a coincidence, both you and Amy Roth here today. Wouldn't you say?”

“Yes, and a little unsettling, too.” China licked her fork. “I got the idea that Amy wasn't at all happy to see me. I wonder if she and Chris have something going on.”

“Something going on? You mean, romantically?”

“Just wondering.” China pushed back her plate with a sigh. “Amy already has a partner, back in Pecan Springs. They've been together for several years. I like both of them, very much. I'd hate to see their relationship break up.”

“Ah,” Mack said, understanding. “I'm sure you know her better than I do. I didn't get that kind of impression, though. From something Sharon let slip, I got the idea that the three of them are in on whatever-it-is together. Like maybe planning some sort of surveillance activity. I gave them the standard caution against interfering with lawful hunting.” She twisted her mouth. “But they'll probably do it anyway. I won't be surprised if I got a call from some pissed-off hunter—or if Chris or Amy calls to complain that somebody intentionally winged their drone.”

China was playing with her fork. “Surveillance activity? Like what?”

“Like spying. They could park along a road adjacent to somebody's deer blind and fly it—to harass the hunter, if nothing else. And they just might happen to catch somebody doing something illegal. Chugging a
couple of beers, for instance. It's against the law to drink when you're out hunting.”

“And then what?” China asked, both eyebrows raised.

“Exactly,” Mack said dryly. “And then what? They can't make an arrest or even detain a violator. They can report what they see through the Game Thief tip line, but by the time one of the wardens got there, the evidence would likely be gone. Whether the surveillance video would be admissible in court is anybody's guess.”

“You're right on that count,” China said emphatically. “I'd argue against it.”

Mack pushed her lips in and out. “Of course, if the legislature approves the bill that's currently under consideration, Chris' drone will be grounded. But Parks and Wildlife will be able to fly them. For patrol or habitat study or anything else.” She smiled wryly. “Who knows? Maybe every game warden will be equipped with one of these things someday, like our binoculars and cameras. So instead of patrolling by vehicle, we'll just put up one of these drones. It'll save time, save gas, and help us nab poachers and such.”

“Interesting,” China said, but Mack got the idea that she wasn't enthusiastic about that kind of wholesale surveillance in the hands of a law enforcement officer. Her friend still thought like a criminal defense attorney.

“Speaking of violators . . .” China fell silent for a moment. “Remember Sue Ellen? The other guest at dinner yesterday?”

“Sure,” Mack said. “I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to her. She's Jack Krause's wife, isn't she?”

China folded her arms on the table. She looked troubled. “She is—although she says she's filed for divorce. Do you know him?”

Mack glanced quickly over her shoulder. A couple of women had come in, but they were seated on the far side of the room, out of earshot. From the kitchen came the muted sound of people at work. There was no one to overhear.

“Yes, I've met him,” she said. “He's the assistant foreman over at Three Gates, the biggest game ranch in the area.” She paused. “Wasn't Sue Ellen working there?”

“Uh-huh. What do you think of him? Confidentially.”

“I was afraid you were going to ask me that.” Mack sighed. “Well, to tell the truth, he reminds me of a bully who loved to pick on me, way back in seventh grade. It's nothing I can put my finger on exactly. But you know how it is when that happens. You don't get an accurate fix, because you're remembering as much as you're seeing. I may have the guy all wrong.”

“I don't think so,” China said soberly. “Sue Ellen is wearing bruises. She says he caused them. Actually . . .” She leaned across the table, lowering her voice. “Actually, I'm worried about her, Mack. She left the house yesterday evening as we were finishing dinner. She didn't tell Mom where she was going. And she didn't come back. Her sister, Patsy Wilbur, works at Jennie's Kitchen. I mentioned it to her while we were working on the garden this morning, and she was really concerned. She said she told Sue Ellen she needed to get away from her husband and stay away.”