Ignoring Mitch, his gaze scanned the clusters of people again. Where in the dickens had she gone now?
“You thought any more about accepting that appointment to the Railroad Commission?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind.”
Mitch chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed. Beautiful woman.”
Jackson glared at his friend. “Keep your mitts off her, Mitch. I mean it. This one is special. If you try to move in on her, I’ll break both your legs and all your writin’ fingers.”
“I got the message earlier, my friend. Jackson, I really wish you’d take that spot for Bledsoe’s unexpired term. Things are getting backed up over there. I need to make an appointment this week, and you’re my first choice. You’re sharp, and I don’t know of anybody any more fair-minded than you are.”
Jackson snorted. “You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m serious. You know the oil business backward and forward, and I know you keep up with the other areas that the commission regulates. I think you’d be perfect for the job.”
“Actually, I have been thinking some about it. I’d have to move to Austin, wouldn’t I?”
“Be a devil of a commute if you didn’t. Come on, Jackson, it’s not permanent—just till the next general election. I know you like Austin, and remember, we’ve got some fine golf courses in the area.”
“None of them as good as Crow’s Nest—the first tee is only ten yards from my front door. Austin’s golf courses aren’t the big drawing card for me.”
“Ah,” Mitch said, grinning, “but we’re soon going to have a drawing card that no place else has. The lovely Olivia.”
Jackson answered with a slow grin of his own.
“Tell you what, if you’ll agree to take the appointment, I’ll show you which way Olivia went.”
“Buddy, you’re on.”
Three
Olivia drove down the tree-lined street on Austin’s west side, then turned into the driveway. She bumped over the cracked asphalt that had been heaved upward by live-oak roots and pulled to a stop in her space beside the garage apartment in the rear yard. She waved to Dr. Tessa Jurney, who was sitting on the side porch of the main house.
Grateful to be home and doubly grateful that it was Friday, she climbed from the oven of a car. Sweat trickled from her hairline, and her sleeveless shift stuck to her back from the car’s leather seat. She blotted her face and neck with a paper towel from the roll she’d learned to carry with her.
“Come have a glass of iced tea,” Tessa called. “You look as if you’re about to melt.”
“I melted a long time ago,” Olivia said as she walked toward the porch of the two-story house, an elegant white clapboard from the thirties. “Is it always this hot?”
“At this time of year? Always. People around here say that there are two seasons—summer and August. Thank goodness August is finally over. September is a bit better, especially toward the end, and October is glorious.” She poured a glass of tea from the pitcher and handed it to Olivia.
Olivia took a long swallow, then rolled the cold glass over her forehead. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get a pay check is to have my car’s air conditioner fixed. I never needed it in Colorado, so it wasn’t a problem. Even though the car’s getting old, it has never given me a moment’s trouble. I didn’t even know the air conditioner wasn’t working until I headed to Texas.”
“I’ll be happy to loan you money to—”
“No.” Olivia held up her hand. “Absolutely not. You and Ed have already done too much for me—helping me get this job and letting me live in your apartment for practically nothing. No loans, but thanks, anyhow.”
“At least drive Ed’s car for a while. He’ll be in Atlanta for ten more days, and it’s just sitting idle in the garage.”
With the temperatures still soaring into the nineties, it was murder to be stuck in a car without air-conditioning. But Olivia hated to be a mooch. She wasn’t accustomed to having to depend on the generosity of others or doing without conveniences—at least not until she left Thomas with nothing but the Lexus she still drove, her clothes and what few personal items she could hurriedly throw into the car. She couldn’t even count on her father—he’d disinherited her when she walked out on Thomas, even though she’d been frightened for her life. In the past few years, Olivia had learned to survive on a lot less than she was accustomed to—and been a thousand times more content.
For two years Dr. Tessa Jurney had been her major professor in graduate school at American University in Washington, D.C. Tessa and her family had moved to Texas shortly before Olivia had been forced to flee, but they had kept in touch with a card or a phone call now and then. Tessa and Irish were the only people who knew the whole story—or at least most of it—about her past. Olivia had always meant to finish her doctorate, but with Thomas after her…well, things had gone on hold for a while. Tessa had pulled the strings that had allowed her to complete her degree.
“How are your classes going?” Tessa asked.
“Wonderfully. I have some really bright students in the two undergrad classes I’m teaching, and I’m enjoying my seminar with Dr. Bullock immensely—even though we have lots of reading to do. I just came from three hours in the library.”
As Tessa refilled their glasses, a truck stopped in front of the house across the street. The name of a furniture store was scrolled across the side.
“Looks like our new neighbors may be moving in soon,” Tessa said.
“Um. Do you know who bought the house?”
“No. Jenny and her friends are hoping that it’s a family with a ‘really fine’ son in her age range.”
Jenny was the Jurneys’ thirteen-year-old. They also had a son, Bill, who was sixteen. Both were good kids. Part of Olivia’s deal for living in the apartment was to be close by for Jenny and Bill on evenings when the Jurneys went out or the occasional weekend when Tessa and Ed were out of town. Jenny and Bill were at that awkward age when they were too old for sitters and too young to be alone—especially for an entire weekend.
A luxury car pulled to a stop behind the truck and a long-legged blonde got out and hurried up the walk of the Spanish-style home.
“The owner, you think?” Olivia asked.
Tessa shook her head. “Looks like a decorator to me, and I’d venture that no expense has been spared. I priced a chair at that furniture store last year. It cost more than Jenny’s braces. The braces won.”
The two of them did some more speculating as the delivery men toted couches and tables and chairs up the front walk. In the two and a half weeks that Olivia had been living in Austin, the new-neighbor question had been an ongoing saga. The Sold sign went up the day after Olivia arrived, and there had been a parade of repairmen and plumbers and landscapers coming and going.
It
