The Great Jackalope Stampede (32 page)

“What do you mean?”

“He tried to get Kathryn into his bed a week before he asked you to marry him.”

Come again? Talk about giving good jabs, Deborah’s words hit Ronnie smack in the throat.

She coughed and swallowed. “Why didn’t either of you mention this before I agreed to marry the jackass?”

“You were there at the party. You saw it and looked the other way. I figured you knew what you were doing—marrying for money.” Deborah covered Ronnie’s hand with her own. “There’s no shame in that, Veronica. No shame at all. We women have to look out for our futures. Look at me, I married for love and now I’m old and penniless with no prospects for a solid future.”

Ronnie’s tongue fainted dead away in her mouth. She tried to remember back to the time prior to their engagement, but could only remember Lyle and all of his fancy gifts, the expensive restaurants, the weekend trips to Paris and Rome. God, it was all so cliché, and yet she had fallen for it ‘hook, lies, and stinker,’ as Grandma used to say.

Katie pushed out through the kitchen door, her eyes glassier than normal. She blinked several times as she joined Claire behind the bar, straightening loose wisps of blonde hair. Her eyes widened when they zeroed in on Deborah.

“Mom, what are you doing here?”

“Drinking.” Deborah cocked her head to the side. “Kathryn, have you been crying? Your mascara looks a bit smudged. I told you to buy that waterproof kind. I know it’s more expensive, but sometimes—”

Ronnie pushed her empty glass toward Claire, who had rejoined their merry little soiree, pointing down at it for more gin to be added. Then she turned on Katie, “How come you never told me Lyle tried to get you into bed?”

Katie turned three shades of pink before going full red. “Mother! Why did you tell her that now? It’s ancient history. No good can come of it being voiced. They’re already divorced.”

“She wanted to make Ronnie feel as shitty as she does,” Claire said, still holding onto her side. She filled Ronnie’s glass and added a splash of tonic. “I’m not buying it, Mother. Grandma was not a bad mom. I’ve never heard Aunt Mary talk bad about her, nor Aunt Jilly.”

Natalie danced up between Ronnie and Deborah, stealing her glass of beer from between them. “You talking about my mom?”

Ronnie sloshed her drink around. “Yep. Mother here says that Grandma was not a nice mom to her own kids.”

Deborah did not deny Ronnie’s replay of her words. Instead she nodded.

“Oh, wow.” Natalie took a step away from them. “You guys are talking about some serious therapy shit here and we’re supposed to be having fun. It’s my last night in Jackrabbit Junction, remember?”

“Natalie’s not disputing it,” Deborah pointed out with a tight, humorless smile.

Claire’s gaze narrowed, bouncing between Deborah and Natalie, settling on the latter. “Nat? Tell the truth. Has your mom mentioned anything like this about Grandma?”

“She was a great grandmother,” Natalie confirmed that part of Deborah’s comment. “But I’ve heard stories.”

“What?” Katie balked. “About Grandma?”

Nodding, Natalie said, “She had her kids way too young is what my mom always says. She didn’t have the mom thing figured out until Ronnie was born.”

“You’re full of shit.” Claire glowered.

Natalie shrugged. “You were always her favorite, Claire, like her in so many ways. You couldn’t help but see her good side.” She finished her beer and glanced longingly out toward the dance floor. “She was a wonderful grandma. That’s what my mom always says. We were lucky to have someone so warm and doting.”

Holy fuck bucket.
Ronnie finished her gin and tonic in one long gulp. She had come here tonight to unload her secret to Claire and instead a heap of truths had been dumped down on top of her like a bucket of pig’s blood; only this shit would not wash off anytime soon and she was rusty at hurting others through telekinesis.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Claire handed an empty set of beer mugs to Katie. She took two steps and then turned back, hitting her mother with an icy glare. “Now I get it, Mother. That’s why you’ve done nothing my entire life but point out everything that’s wrong with me. You see her in me, don’t you?”

“No, Claire Alice. You’re wrong. I love you in spite of you being just like her.”

“Then why? Why have I never been good enough for you?”

Deborah poked at a bobbing ice cube with her fingernail. Her eyes grew watery. “Because she thought you were perfect in every way I never was.”

Katie gasped. “She never would have said that.”

“She didn’t have to, Kathryn. She showed it to me every time she held Claire in her arms and told her how smart and beautiful and funny she was.”

“Fuck this shit.” Claire stormed off toward the restrooms. Ronnie debated on following her to make sure she was okay, but she knew Claire. They were the same when it came to emotions, shoving the world away so they could lick their wounds in private. Ronnie wished everyone at the bar would go away so she could salve her newest lashes alone with her gin.

“Kate,” Arlene bellied up to the bar, an order slip in her hand. “This is for the corner table.” She handed it to Katie and turned to their mother. “Are you Deborah, by chance?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Romeo over there in the corner. He said to tell you that when you wear that color of blue, your hair glows like an angel’s halo.” Arlene pointed at the sheet of paper in Katie’s hand. “He bought Ms. Angel here another cognac.”

Ronnie looked over her shoulder at the same time as Deborah. Manny waved from the corner. Chester sat opposite him shuffling a deck of cards. A woman Ronnie recognized from the archaeology crew shared the table with them, her back against the wall.

“Kathryn,” Deborah scooted off the edge of her bar stool. “Have my next drink delivered at Manuel’s table.”

“Watch out,” Arlene warned Deborah. “They are rowdier than usual tonight. Must be something in the air.”

“Must be.” Deborah gave Ronnie a cool stare. “You’re lucky you got free of Lyle when you did. You’re still young enough to start over.”

Ronnie watched her mother cross the room and take the deck of cards from Chester before dropping into the empty fourth chair between the two old boys.

“That was a slick way to get a fourth player,” Katie said, fixing Deborah’s drink.

“Thank God she took the bait.” Ronnie had had enough of her mother for the time being. Her face burned again just thinking about how stupid she had been about Lyle, how blinded she’d been by all that glitter to see through his games. “Fill me up one more time, please, Katie.”

Her sister measured her up with a glance. “Okay, but you’re not driving.”

“No problem. Claire’s driving. If she leaves me here, I’ll pass out in Butch’s office until you finish for the night and catch a ride home with you.”

Katie set a full glass of gin and tonic in front of her. Ronnie reached for it, not feeling her fingers when they embraced the glass. Ah, here it came, the numbing nothingness. This last hit would push her over the edge to where none of it mattered until the sun came up again. She lifted the glass off the bar.

Someone jostled into the seat next to her, a knee bumping into her thigh, making her drink slosh over the rim.

“Damn it.”

“Sorry about that, Ronnie,” Mac said. “Where’s Claire?”

* * *

“I’m not pregnant,” Claire told the brown-eyed woman in the bathroom mirror.

Her reflection stared back, speechless.

The sharp twinges in her lower abdomen that she had been feeling over the last hour were actual, monthly cramps, not just gas bubbles like she had figured after chowing down a bacon and mushroom cheeseburger and chasing it with a side of French fries dipped in vinegar.

There would be no baby.

Life would go on as it always had.

She didn’t need to get married, “to do the right thing.”

She should be happy as hell.

Why wasn’t she happy as hell?

She pumped a pink glob of fruity smelling soap into her palm and rubbed her hands together, thinking about the heavy weight that had moved from her shoulders to her heart.

This was good news. “It really is,” she told her reflection, who did not look very convinced. “You’re a lot like Grandma.”

All of these years, she had held that fact near and dear to her heart, warmed by it, proud of it. But after learning that her grandmother had not been the best mother to her daughters, and knowing how miserable her mom turned out in part because of that, Claire would have run screaming into the hills if that pregnancy test had turned out positive. Undoubtedly, she would have screwed up the whole mothering business and produced another Deborah … only smaller and cuter. A sweet, pudgy version of her mother, one without the pinched lips and judging eyes. Maybe the baby would have had Mac’s hazel eyes.

She shook off the thought and cranked on the water. It didn’t matter. There’d be no baby now. Nobody’s life to screw up. Nobody to tie her down. Nobody to love her unconditionally when Mac grew tired of her.

Her reflection frowned. “Are you done wallowing yet?”

“Cram it,” she told it and shut off the water right as the door swished open.

Ronnie stumbled into the room. “Mac’s out there looking for you.” She ricocheted off the wall into one of the stalls and slammed the door hard enough for it to bounce back open. “Damn it, door,” her sister slurred.

Speak of the hazel-eyed devil. Claire’s chest loosened at the thought of Mac right outside, waiting.

Grabbing some paper towels, she checked her reflection one last time and tried to blink away the confusion she felt swirling behind her eyes about her non-pregnancy and her mother’s tales of the past. Other than a scrape over her right cheek that she’d received somehow in the midst of drywalling earlier in the day, she looked pretty good. Her teeth had nothing lodged in them and her T-shirt had no ketchup stains. “Bonus,” she whispered.

Should she go out there and tell Mac about the baby now? Would it do any good for him to know? Did she want to see what his reaction would be after worrying about it for the last week?

“I’m crazy for loving you,” Ronnie sang from the stall, her Patsy Cline impersonation decent considering Ronnie’s condition.

“Aw, isn’t that sweet,” Claire pinched some color into her cheeks. “I love you, too, you two-bit drunk.”

“Why are you still,”
hiccup
, “in here with me?”

Good question. Mac was waiting, and now that she was baby-free, she had a watch to find—make that a stolen watch to find according to her gin-tipsy sister.

And the story behind a box of glass eyeballs to figure out.

And an archaeology crew to spy on.

The toilet paper roll thump-thump-thumped, then something crashed onto the floor in the stall. “Oh, crap,” Ronnie said and then snort-cackled. “I think I just violated the toilet paper holder. Someone better call Sheriff Hardass.”

“No more gin for you, ya lush.” Claire pulled open the door to the bar.

It was time to stop screwing around and get back on the case.

Chapter Seventeen

Mac was not sure where he’d gone wrong.

After Ronnie had left to go find Claire, Kate had come over and asked if he wanted a beer.

“Sure,” he’d said. “Whatever you have on tap is fine.”

When she slid the glass of beer his way, he thanked her and asked, “How’s life treating you these days?”

That was when everything had gone to shit.

Kate’s eyes welled up without warning, tears spilling onto her cheeks.

He lowered his beer. “Kate?”

She broke out in sobs, something he had not seen her do before. Hiding behind a bar towel, she ran into the backroom and left Mac sitting there, his jaw unhinged.

“What did I say?” He stood, hesitating as the bar went on with life around him. Should he follow her? Should he wait for Claire first?

He glanced around the crowded room, looking for answers. The sight of Deborah playing cards with Chester and Manny at the back table made him do a double take. What was she doing here? This place was below her station, wasn’t it?

He watched as Deborah poured herself a glass of beer, the foam pouring over the rim and onto the table. Manny grinned and picked up her glass while she mopped up the mess with some napkins. He took a sip before handing it back to her. She playfully slapped Manny’s arm while laughing. Then she stole Chester’s cigar, stuck it between her lips, and dealt out a round of cards.

What in the hell was going on? Had someone slipped Deborah some roofies?

A loud cheer from the other side of the room pulled his attention away from the corner table. His focus locked onto the backside of a brunette on the dance floor who had some blonde cowboy’s arm twisted behind his back. For a moment, Mac thought maybe this was some new dance move, but then she swept the cowboy’s feet out from under him and dropped the guy face first onto the floor. Before the crowd of onlookers swallowed them from his view, he caught a glimpse of Natalie’s profile as she leaned over the cowboy and yelled, “You lose! Pay up, sucka.”

The crowd roared.

Mac dropped back onto his stool, feeling like he had tumbled down a rabbit hole after swallowing a handful of pink and blue pills.