Belle Pointe. Karen Young

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СКАЧАТЬ it was icing on the cake that she’d have access to the Spectator archives. According to Beatrice, who had proved to be a walking encyclopedia of Tallulah’s history, the archives would be chock-full of references to Buck’s family. The things Buck told her about his family had only whetted her appetite to learn more. It was a golden opportunity to fill in the blanks.

      She had not spoken with Buck. She simply wasn’t up to arguing with him. After she’d refused to take his calls, he’d stopped trying. Maybe after thinking it over, he was relieved that she was the one who dared to say their marriage was in trouble. Maybe he’d been looking for a way out and just hadn’t found a way to tell her. God knows, there were scads of women who’d love to be with Buck Whitaker. And not a single one of them would complain about not having his baby.

      Her stepmother had generously offered the use of her car and Anne was halfway to the newspaper office when she realized the gas light was on. She was torn between irritation and amusement at Beatrice. The woman was a crackerjack businesswoman with a creative bent but Anne noticed that, in practical matters, such as keeping gasoline in her car or stocking the pantry with groceries or picking up clothes at the cleaners, she was woefully forgetful. Franklin groused about it when it affected him directly, but Anne had seen right away that he was so besotted with Beatrice that it would take a lot more than a depleted pantry or a wardrobe mishap to make him truly angry with his wife. In the time that Anne had been their houseguest, she was completely convinced that her father was happier than he’d ever been. She suffered a pang of conscience every now and then, feeling a bit disloyal to her mother, but Beatrice really was a sweetheart.

      At the service station, she swiped her card and prepared to pump gas into the tank of the small car. For just a second, she thought of her Mercedes and wondered if Buck was driving it in St. Louis. He shouldn’t be driving at all, but she couldn’t imagine him staying cooped up in the house even when ordered to stay put. Of course, he may have already replaced his wrecked Porsche with something equally fast and expensive. And for just a second, she wondered if he was missing her.

      “Anne! Anne Whitaker? What the hell—”

      With her hand on the nozzle, Anne turned to see who’d spoken. Coming around the hood of a large black Lexus on the opposite side of the pump station was Buck’s older brother.

      “Jesus, it really is you, Anne.” While still a yard away from her, Pearce Whitaker opened his arms wide and smiled, showing a lot of teeth. He swept her up in a bear hug, his kiss just missing her lips when she turned at the last second. Then, holding her by the arms, he looked her over. “Talk about surprises, honey, I about drove into the pump when I saw who it was gassin’ up Beatrice’s bug. How the hell are you?”

      “I’m fine, Pearce. And you?”

      “Couldn’t be better.” He’d removed his sunglasses and was still studying her as if he wasn’t sure she was real. Her own sunglasses were firmly in place in the hope that she’d go unrecognized once she left her father’s house. And of all those who might have recognized her, she would have wished it anybody but Pearce. Or possibly his mother.

      “Where’s Buck?” He glanced at the passenger seat of the Volkswagen looking for his brother. “After the accident, I thought he’d be confined to quarters in St. Louis by the Jacks. You’re looking great, but how’s our fair-haired boy?”

      “He’s okay.”

      “He didn’t sound okay when I called him Sunday. Grouchy as a bear with a burr up his—” He caught himself. “And he didn’t say a damn thing about coming to Tallulah. So, how long y’all been here?”

      “Just since Tuesday.” Skirting the truth. If she could get by without telling him outright that Buck was not with her, she would avoid questions about why. Let Buck break the news.

      “And you haven’t called us at Belle Pointe?” He was shaking his head. “I know Buck would rather kiss a snake than have a conversation with Mama, but y’all can’t hole up at your daddy’s house and pretend she’s not just five miles down the road. She’ll have a fit like you never saw when she finds out. Hey!” His eyes lit with a new thought. “I assumed Buck would be playing, which is why I haven’t called him to set up an appearance in my campaign, but now you’re here it changes things. He’s able to get around?”

      “More or less.” She looked at the gauges on the pump and willed the gas to flow faster. “How is your campaign going?”

      “Couldn’t be better,” he repeated, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. He took a business card out of a small leather case and used the surface of the pump to scribble a number. “Here’s my cell. Tell Buck to call me. Today. Within the hour. His name’s gold around here. I’ve been lucky the way support is growing, but word gets around that Buck’s gonna make an appearance, the voters will love it!” He grinned, handing her the card. “This is just great. Couldn’t happen at a better time. The polls say I’m the front-runner, but it’s early yet and you can never be too far out front. A couple of appearances with the great Buck Whitaker and it may even scare my opponent into pulling out!”

      The pump clicked off automatically. “You’ll need to talk directly to Buck about that,” she told him, with a glance at her watch. “I’m sorry to run, but—”

      “No problem. Got things to do, huh?”

      “I’m heading for Dad’s office.”

      He spread his hands wide with another grin. “Another major advantage for me, having connections at the Spectator. I’m hoping Franklin will do more than just an endorsement. I’d like a nice profile piece, from the standpoint of the Whitakers. You know, playing up the contributions made to the town—hell, the state!—by my ancestors, emphasis on me, of course.” He gave her a playful wink. “Get folks thinking it’s the natural thing, having a Whitaker in the Capitol.”

      Anne bent to screw the cap of the tank in place thinking Pearce had found his calling as a politician. With his profound conceit he assumed not only the cooperation of her father in his campaign, but Buck’s as well. Fortunately, it wasn’t her place to disabuse him of this notion.

      She closed the lid with a thump. “Good luck, Pearce.”

      “Wait a minute.” He opened her car door for her with the courtesy that seemed innate in Southern men. “How about coming out to Belle Pointe tonight? No joke, Buck can’t hole up at the Marshes’ and avoid Mama. Y’all need to make an appearance, if nothing else.”

      “I’m sorry, but I really can’t speak for Buck.” She reached over and turned the key in the ignition. “And I’m afraid I really do have to run, Pearce. Tell Claire I said hello, will you?”

      “Sure, sure.” He stepped back as she put the car in gear. “And you tell Buck I’ll be looking to hear from him today, okay?”

      With a smile and a wave, she drove off. He would know the truth before the day was done, but he was right about one thing. Now she was here, out of courtesy she must pay Victoria a visit. And soon. But she didn’t have to look forward to it.

      “Hello, Tyrone?”

      “Yeah. Who’s this?”

      Nursing a Coke in one hand and the phone in another, Buck leaned back in his recliner. “Somebody who knows you were the one who tied Ray Dixon’s jockstrap in a knot fifteen years ago, then forced Coach Randall to use you to pinch hit for him while Dixon spent precious minutes trying to straighten it out.”

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