The Ballad of Dixon Bell. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Kate glanced at the clock and realized she had missed the window of opportunity to get groceries before picking up the kids. That would mean taking them along, with the resulting sulks and sighs. As children, they’d loved to join her in the adventure of shopping. These days, they seemed to expect the food to appear on the shelf or on the table, ready for consumption. Providing for them was part of her role as parent, Kate realized, a role she cherished with all her heart. Sometimes, though, she wished the decisions and responsibilities could rest with somebody else. Or at least be shared. But her ex-husband-to-be didn’t feel much like sharing anything with her these days. Least of all responsibilities.

      Waiting in the school parking lot a few minutes later, Kate tried to balance her checkbook in an attempt to keep her mind off Dixon Bell. Not a very successful effort, she had to admit. Instead of focusing on the numbers in her register, she kept staring off into space, thinking about his smile, picturing him sleeping on a picnic table one warm summer night so long ago. What courage it must have taken to strike out on his own. She couldn’t imagine being completely free of other people’s expectations and regulations.

      So deep in reverie was she that she didn’t realize Kelsey had come out of the school building until the car door swung open.

      “Hey.” Her daughter dropped into the front seat of the Volvo, her blond hair gleaming in the sunlight, her brown eyes and heart-shaped face enhanced by makeup as perfect as only a teenage girl’s could be at this hour of the day. She’d obviously just renewed her cologne, and the latest fashion scent filled the car.

      Kate smiled in greeting. “Hey, yourself. Where’s your brother?”

      “He’ll be here in a minute. He had to get a book out of the library for his homework.”

      “How was class today?”

      Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Booorrring. As usual.” A genius when it came to putting together the right clothes, she wasn’t a terribly focused student.

      Without warning, Trace appeared in the passenger-side window and opened the door his older sister was leaning against. “You get the back seat. You had the front this morning.”

      Kelsey gave an unfeminine snort. “Like I’m going to get out and get in again?”

      “Yeah, you are.” Trace was a replica of his father, with the same athletic build, the same handsome face, the same dark-blond hair and bright-blue eyes. When he got angry, as now, the resemblance was even more striking.

      “No, I’m not.” In an instant, their voices were strained, their faces heated. “You can have the front seat both ways tomorrow.”

      “Oh, sure, that’ll happen. Get out, Kelsey.” He reached in and took hold of her arm, trying to pull her out of the car. Where once brother and sister had been staunch allies, in the last few months they had become adversaries, if not downright enemies.

      But Kate drew the line at physical conflict. “Trace, that’s enough.”

      He didn’t seem to hear her as Kelsey kicked out with a foot aimed at his knee. “Get lost.”

      “You get lost.” The brawl intensified, with more pushing and shoving. A pair of kids crossing the parking lot had stopped to watch, and an approaching teacher stood gazing, openmouthed, as Kelsey and Trace pummeled each other.

      Kate didn’t try to be heard over the yelling. Gritting her teeth, she planted the heel of her hand on the car horn and pressed down. Hard.

      Trace jerked back at the blare of sound, which gave Kelsey a chance to get in the last blow. The boy staggered back against the car parked next to them, arms clutched over his stomach. “I’ll get you for that,” he panted. “I swear I’ll get you.”

      Kelsey swung her legs into the car and closed the door without deigning to answer. After a minute, Trace fumbled his way into the back seat, where he curled into a ball, his head on his knees.

      They rode home without speaking. Once inside the house, Kate didn’t have to tell the kids to go to their rooms—isolation was intentional and immediate on both their parts. She sank into a chair at the kitchen table and put her head down on her arms, too numb to think about how to deal with Kelsey and Trace.

      And she still didn’t have anything in the house to cook for dinner.

      THE ONLY PHONE CONNECTION in all the fifteen rooms of Magnolia Cottage was in the front hall, which didn’t allow for much private conversation. Miss Daisy came down the stairs just as Dixon hung up from his call to Kate.

      She paused on the last step. “I gather from the frown on your handsome face that your dinner plans fell through.”

      “Yes, ma’am, they did.” He tried to erase the frown. “That’s okay—there’ll be another night.”

      At the mirror beside the front door, his grandmother checked the smooth sweep of her silver hair, always worn in a knot on the crown of her head, dabbed a little powder over her fine skin and checked the set of her lavender suit jacket. Convinced she was perfect—as, indeed, Dixon thought she was—she turned and put a hand on his arm.

      “Why don’t you come with us, then? We’d love to have a good-looking male at our table to pass the time with. LuAnne Taylor just loves to flirt with younger men.”

      Dixon lifted her hand and kissed the cool fingers, feeling them tremble just a bit in his hold. She smelled like his childhood—lavender water and talc and Dove soap. “You’re sweet, Miss Daisy. But I think I’ll let you go on without me. I might not be the best of company tonight.” He wanted to treat Kate’s refusal lightly, but the disappointment harkened back to the old days, when getting turned down by Kate Bowdrey had changed the course of his life. At seventeen, a boy was permitted to take love so seriously. By the time he’d reached thirty, he really ought to have gained a little perspective.

      “If you say so, dear.” Miss Daisy patted his cheek with her free hand. “I’m just grateful to have you home again.” Outside, a car horn beeped. “Don’t wait up—sometimes we go to LuAnne’s and play bridge until the wee hours.”

      Dixon opened the front door. “Miss Daisy, you’re a hell-raiser.”

      She flashed him the smile that had captivated most of the men in New Skye at one time or another. “Of course. At my age, what else do I have left to do?”

      Chuckling, Dixon escorted her down the house steps so she wouldn’t have to depend on the rickety railing, and held her arm as they went toward the twenty-year-old Cadillac waiting at the end of the walk. The crumbling brick pavers made the footing shaky, at best, but the grass on either side was too high and too weed-grown to walk through. He was surprised one of the older ladies who visited his grandmother hadn’t fallen and hurt herself before now.

      As Miss Daisy settled herself in the Caddy, Dixon spoke with Miss Taylor. “Don’t y’all get too rowdy tonight. I want to be able to hold my head up in town tomorrow.”

      “The very idea.” Miss Taylor pretended to be embarrassed. “Just four old friends having dinner together. What could be more refined?”

      Dixon shook his head. “Four wild women is more like it, I’d say.”

      “LuAnne, Alice is waiting for us,” Miss Daisy commented. “And you know how she fusses when СКАЧАТЬ