Where There's Smoke (13 page)

Embarrassed at being caught daydreaming, she surged to her feet and ran a self-conscious hand down the placket of her blouse.
 
"I'm sorry.
 
Can I help you?"

"Maybe.
 
I hope."

He removed a straw cowboy hat and ambled closer to her desk.

His legs were slightly bowed.
 
He was much shorter than Key, not even six feet would be her guess.
 
He wasn't muscle-bound but seemed tough, strong, and wiry.
 
His clothes were clean and appeared new.

"I'm looking for work, ma'am.
 
Wondered if y'all had any openings."

"I'm sorry, we don't at present, Mr ?"

"Cato, ma'am.
 
Bowie Cato."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Cato.
 
I'm Janellen Tackett.
 
What kind of job are you looking for?
 
If you're new to Eden Pass, I might be able to refer you to another oil company."

"Thank you kindly for offering, but it wouldn't do any good.
 
I've already asked around.
 
Saved the best till last, you might say," he added with a fleeting grin.
 
"Seems nobody's hiring."

She smiled sympathetically.
 
"I'm afraid that's all too true, Mr.

Cato.

The economy in East Texas is tight, especially in the oil industry.

Practically nob,2dy's drilling.
 
Of course, a lot of existing wells are still producing.

His woebegone brown eyes lit up.
 
"Yes, ma'am, well that's mostly what I did before-that is, I was a pumper.
 
Maintained several wells for another outfit."

"So you have experience?
 
You know the business?"

"Oh yes, ma'am.
 
Out in West Texas.
 
Grew up in a pissant, uh, I mean a small town close to Odessa.
 
Worked in the Permian Basin fields since I was twelve."
 
He paused, as though giving her an opportunity to change her mind after hearing his qualifications.
 
When she said nothing, he bobbed,his head in conclusion.
 
"Well, much obliged to you anyway, ma'am.

"Wait!"
 
As soon as Janellen realized that she had reflexively extended a hand to him, she snatched it back and, flustered, clasped it with her other and held them against her waist.

He regarded her curiously.
 
"Yes, ma'am?"

"As long as you're here, you could fill out an application.
 
If we have an opening anytime soon .
 
. . I'm not expecting one, you understand, but it wouldn't hurt to leave an application in our files."

He thought it over for a moment.
 
"No, I reckon it wouldn't hurt."

Janellen sat down behind her desk and motioned him into the chair facing it.
 
In her bottom drawer, along with other business forms, she kept a few standard employment applications.
 
She passed one to him.

"Do you need a pen?"

"Please."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thanks."

Picking up the pen she had given him, he lowered his head and proceeded to print his name on the top line of the application.

Janellen judged him to be about Key's age, although his face was marked with more character lines, and there was a sprinkling of gray in his sideburns.
 
His hair was brown.
 
It bore the imprint of his hatband in a ring around his head.

Suddenly he looked up and caught her staring at him.
 
Before thinking, she blurted, "W-would you care for a cup of coffee?"
 
Then she remembered that she'd offered him one less than thirty seconds ago.

"I'm sorry.
 
I already asked you, didn't I?"

"Yes, ma'am.
 
I still don't care for any.
 
Thanks, though."
 
He bent back to the application.

Janellen fidgeted with a paper clip, wishing she had left on the radio after listening to the morning news, wishing there were some form of noise to fill the yawning silence, wishing she weren't so miserably ill-equipped when it came to making small talk.

At last he completed the form and passed it and the ballpoint pen back to her.
 
She scanned the top few lines and was astounded to find that he was much younger than Key, actually two years younger than herself.

It had been a rough thirty-one years for him.

Her eyes moved down the form.
 
"You're currently employed at The Palm?

The honky-tonk?"

"That's right, ma'am."
 
He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders self-consciously.
 
"I grant you, it's not much of a job.
 
Only temporary.

"I didn't mean to put it down," she said hastily.
 
"Somebody has to work in those places."
 
That came out sounding insulting, too.

Her teeth closed over her lower lip.
 
"My brother goes there all the time."

"Yeah, he's been pointed out to me.
 
I don't recall ever seeing you there."

She got the distinct impression that he was trying to suppress a smile.

In a nervous gesture, she moved her hand to the placket of her blouse and began fiddling with the buttons.
 
"No, I've I've never been there."

"Yes, ma'am."

Janellen wet her lips.
 
"Let's see," she said, referring again to the application form.
 
"Before The Palm you were working at the state She faltered over the next plainly printed word.
 
Too appalled by her blunder even to look at him, she stared at his application until the lines and words ran together.

"That's right, ma'am," he said quietly.
 
"I did time in Huntsville State Prison.
 
I'm on parole.
 
That's why I need a job real bad."

Mustering all her courage, she lifted her eyes to meet his.
 
"I'm sorry that I don't have anything for you, Mr. Cato."
 
To her consternation, she realized she meant it.

"Well," he said, rising, "it was a long shot anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

He shrugged.
 
"Being I'm an ex-con and all."

She wouldn't lie and tell him that his prison record would have no bearing on his chance for employment at Tackett Oil.
 
Jody wouldn't hear of hiring him.
 
However, Janellen was reluctant to let him leave without some word of encouragement.
 
"Do you have other possibilities in mind?"

"Not so's you'd notice."
 
He replaced his hat and pulled it low over his brows.
 
"Thank you for your time, Miss Tackett."

"Goodbye, Mr.
 
Cato."

He backed out the office door, closing it behind him, then sauntered across the concrete porch, jogged down the steps, and climbed into a pickup truck.

Janellen shot from her chair and quickly moved to the door.

Through the venetian blinds, she watched him drive away.
 
At the highway, he turned the pickup in the direction of The Palm.

More depressed than before, she returned to her desk.
 
The paperwork was waiting for her, but she was disinclined to approach it with her usual self-discipline.
 
Instead she picked up the application form that Bowie Cato had filled out and carefully reread each vital statistic.

He had put an X beside "single" to designate his marital status.

The space for filling in next of kin had been left blank.
 
Suddenly, Janellen realized that she was being a snoop.
 
It wasn't as though she were actually considering him for a job.
 
She didn't have one to offer him, and even if she did, Jody would have a fit if she hired an ex-con.

Impatient with herself for lollygagging away half the morning, she shoved Bowie Cato's application into the bottom drawer of her desk and got down to business.

"Not that tie, Fergus.
 
For God's sake."
 
Darcy Winston cursed with exasperation.
 
"Can't you see that it clashes with your shirt?"

"You know me, sugar pie," he said with an affable shrug.
 
"I'm color-blind."

"Well, I'm not.
 
Switch it with this one."
 
She pulled another necktie from the rack in his closet and thrust it at him.
 
"And hurry up.

We're the main attraction tonight, and you're going to make us late."

"I've already apologized once for running late.
 
A busload of retirees from Fayetteville made an unscheduled stop at The Green Pine.

Thirty-seven of them.
 
I had to help check them in.
 
Nice bunch of people.
 
They'd been down in Harlingen for two weeks, building a Baptist mission for the Mex'cans.
 
Holding Bible schools and such.

Said those Mex'can kids took to snowcones like "For chrissake, Fergus, I don't care," she interrupted impatiently.

Just finish dressing, please.
 
I'm going to hurry Heather along."

Darcy stalked along the upstairs hallway of their spacious home toward their only child's bedroom.
 
"Heather, are you ready?"

She knocked out of habit but entered without waiting for permission.

"Heather, hang up that damn phone and get dressed!"

The sixteen-year-old cupped the mouthpiece.
 
"I'm ready, Mother.

I'm just talking to Tanner until it's time to leave."

"It's time."
 
Darcy snatched the receiver away from her, sweetly said,

"Goodbye, Tanner," then dropped it back into its cradle.

"Mother!"
 
Heather exclaimed.
 
"How rude!
 
I could just die!
 
You're so mean to him!
 
Why'd you do that?"

"Because we re expected at the schoolhouse right now."

"It's not even six-thirty yet.
 
We're not scheduled to be there until seven.

Darcy wandered over to her daughter's dressing table and rummaged among the perfume bottles until she found a fragrance she liked, then sprayed herself with it.

Piqued, Heather asked, "What's wrong with your perfume?
 
You have dozens to choose from.
 
Why do you use mine?"

"You spend too much time on the phone with Tanner," Darcy said, ignoring Heather's complaint.

"I do not."

"Boys don't like girls who are too available."

"Mother, please don't meddle in my jewelry box.
 
You leave it in a mess every time you open it."
 
Reaching around Darcy, Heather flipped down the lid.

Darcy pushed her aside and defiantly reopened the lavender velvet box.

"What have you got stashed away in here that you don't want me to see?"

"Nothing!"

"If you're smoking joints "I'm not!"

Darcy riffled through the contents of the jewelry box but found only an assortment of earrings, bracelets, rings, pendants, and a strand of pearls that Fergus had bought for Heather the day she was born.

"See?
 
I told you."

"Don't sass me, young lady."
 
She slammed down the lid and scrutinized Heather with a critical eye.
 
"And before we leave, wipe off about half of that eye shadow.
 
You look like a tramp."