The Maverick (8 page)

It was after midnight before Cass finally made it home and fell into bed. Knowing there were still dozens of last minute things to do the next day, she postponed her Sunday surprise activity with Griff until Monday. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact he showed up at Chili Witches Sunday morning with huge boxes of breakfast tacos and doughnuts for everybody.

“Wasn’t it sweet of Griff to bring these?” Cass said to her mother as she offered her a taco.

“Very nice of him.” Gloria gave Griff a polite smile.

Ben McKee and his brother-in-law, Rick, came in a pickup to return the stored office furniture to its place. Griff pitched in and helped tote the desk, file cabinets and other items to the café’s office. With everybody helping, the office was restored quickly and the computer and other electronic equipment plugged up and ready to go.

By one o’clock, the dishes sparkled, the pantry was stocked, the cooler was full and everything was prepared for Monday. The kitchen staff left, Gloria and Min went home for a nap, Rick took off in the pickup and Ben rode home with Sunny. Griff and Cass were left alone to lock up.

“Want to come upstairs and watch the game?” she asked.

“Which game?”

“Whichever one is on. Sunday afternoon is sports or old movies.”

“Sure, but I have to get something from the car first. I brought you a present.”

“A present. What?”

“It’s a surprise.” He trotted to his rental car and took out a red gift bag.

When he handed it to her, Cass peeked inside, then smiled. “Massage lotion. There must be a quart here.”

“Be Prepared is my motto. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll massage your tootsies properly.” He gave her a devilish grin.

The foot massage didn’t happen. They ended up on Cass’s sectional watching the Yankees, with Griff’s head in her lap. In about twenty seconds flat, he was sound asleep.

When it became apparent he was down for the count, she gently retrieved the remote clutched in his hand and switched to an old musical comedy.

When Cass awoke sometime later, she was surprised to find herself with her head against Griff’s shoulder and the Yankees in the last of the ninth.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said, stretching.

“You were tired. I hate to see you work so hard, and it seems as if your talents are wasted running a café. Have you considered doing something else?”

“Well, I’ve considered running for city council.”

“Sounds like a great idea. Do it.”

Cass sighed. “Even a campaign would take a tremendous amount of time, and if I got elected, I’d hate to dump most of the responsibility for the business on Sunny. I just couldn’t do that to her, especially now when she and Ben are getting married, and she’ll have a family to think about.”

“Have you ever considered selling the business?” Griff asked.

“Bite your tongue, buster. Sunny and I grew up in Chili Witches, and Mom and Aunt Min worked too hard growing this business to ever sell it. When their folks died, the two of them sold the family farm and put everything they had into buying this property and starting the café. They started small and worked like dogs to get it off the ground. For years they plowed the majority of their profits back into the business. Sunny and I owe it to them to keep it going. It’s wonderful that now they can retire and enjoy traveling six months of the year. They’re going to Ireland next. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“You’re a good daughter.” He kissed her forehead.

“I try.”

“Seems to me this property, being in such a prime location, should be worth a great deal. I would anticipate you could sell it, invest the proceeds properly and have a higher income for your family than you realize now. And without all the work.”

Cass felt herself stiffen. “Money isn’t the only issue here. A sense of history is just as important. Maybe more so. Why, even our bar is an antique, well over a hundred years old.”

Griff flashed his dimples. “Yeah, I remember. From the bawdy house, right?”

“That’s right. And a very
famous
bawdy house to boot. It’s even mentioned in some of the historical society’s publications. I’ve been thinking about getting a plaque.”

“Fine idea.”

“Glad you think so. Now, the subject of selling Chili Witches is closed. If you’re going to watch another ball game, I’m going to have to have fortification. Want to order a pizza?”

“Sure,” he said. “Tell me you don’t like anchovies.”

“I don’t like anchovies. They’re like eating salty eyelashes.
No, I take that back. The only way I can tolerate anchovies is in Caesar salad dressing or other stuff where they’re mashed up and disguised. And actually, I prefer my Caesar salad without anchovies if given the choice. Did you know that anchovies weren’t part of the original recipe?”

“On pizza?”

“In Caesar salad.”

“No, I didn’t. Should I take notes?”

She laughed and hit him with a pillow. “I’ll order the works, no anchovies. Do you want onions?”

“Are you having onions?”

“Sure.”

“Then I’ll have some, too.”

After she phoned in the order, Cass picked up the TV listings to scan, and Griff rested his chin on her shoulder to read. “There’s a Dodgers game starting in a few minutes.”

“My father would disown me if I watched it. He still hasn’t forgiven the Dodgers for moving from Brooklyn to California. Why don’t we watch a movie?”

She glanced over the film listings. “Oh, look.
Ghost.
I loved that movie. Whoopi Goldberg won an Oscar for her part. She was hilarious. Have you ever seen it?”

“Not that I recall. What’s it about?”

“It’s about a ghost. You’ll see.”

The timing was perfect. The pizza arrived just before the movie started, and they curled up to watch. Cass got teary-eyed at the tender parts and laughed at the funny parts the way she always did. Griff seemed to enjoy it—or at least he didn’t complain or groan at inappropriate times the way some men were prone to do.

When it was over, she sniffed, and Griff frowned. “Are you crying?”

“Just a little. I adore that movie.”

“It was okay. I suppose I’m more into realism.”

“I take it you don’t believe in ghosts?” she said.

“I’ve never seen one. Have you?”

She hesitated. Should she tell him? Griff would think she was nuts. “My sister has,” she said as a compromise. It was safer talking about Sunny’s experiences than her own.

“Really?” He appeared surprised. “Sunny sees ghosts?”

“Not ghosts. One ghost she’s seen several times. She claims she even talks to the Senator—our father, but she calls him the Senator.”

“Hmm. What does he look like?”

“Tall, gray-haired, a lot like Uncle Wes.”

“How old was he when he died?” Griff asked.

“Forty.”

“Was his hair gray then?”

“No. The pictures I’ve seen of him show his hair was about like mine. Dark.”

“Then why would it be gray now? I wouldn’t think ghosts would age.”

“Huh! I never thought about that. I’ll ask Sunny. Please don’t mention to her that we discussed this. I’m sure she would be embarrassed. I don’t think my mother even knows about it, and I shouldn’t have told you.”

He picked up Cass’s hand and kissed it. “I won’t mention it. Thanks for sharing the secret with me.”

“Now it’s your turn.” She cuddled up against him, laying her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. “You have to tell me one of your secrets.”

She could swear his heart speeded up a tad. Hmm. Had she hit a nerve?

“Must I?”

“That’s the way the game is played.”

“I stole five dollars from my mother’s purse when I was about six. She never knew.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to buy a baseball card from Joey Hedgecroft in my first grade class. But I felt so guilty, I couldn’t, so I hid the money in my room. Taped it to the underside of a drawer. I think I must have gotten the idea from a TV show.”

Cass chuckled. “Is it still there?”

“Nope. I forgot about it, but I found it years later and sneaked the money back into my mother’s purse.”

“I swiped a nickel once. Someone had left a pile of change on a table in the café. I took a nickel to put in the gum ball machine. My mother caught me, and I tried to lie my way out of it. That made her even more furious, and she made me spit out the gum and wash dishes to earn enough to repay the waiter his nickel. That was the end of my thieving days. I almost died from humiliation. Sunny cried for me.”

“And you were how old?” Griff asked.

“About four I think. It was a good lesson. I suspect the incident helped shape the huge value I place on honesty. I think Sunny learned the same thing by observing my experience.”

“Crime does not pay.”

“You got it. I have no respect for sneaks and liars.”

“And lawyers.”

She grinned. “In most cases they’re the same thing. Present company excluded, of course.”

M
AYBE IT WAS THE
onions on her breath that did it, but Griff soon left, with only a brief kiss at the door. Odd. Very odd. The man was a sex machine. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him about Sunny and the ghost. Now he probably thought the
family was weird. He likely would have croaked if he knew Cass had seen the Senator, too.

She called Sunny. “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” her twin said. “Ben and Jay left earlier. What’s up?”

“I have a question about the Senator. Didn’t you say his hair was gray?”

“Yes.”

“Sunny, when he died, his hair was dark brown, not gray. Why would it be gray now?”

“Hmm. Let me think about it.” After a moment, Sunny said, “You know, it seems his hair was darker when I first saw him. It’s grayed over the years, as it would have naturally.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that a ghost ages? How can that be?”

“I don’t know,” Sunny replied. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Cass sat down at her computer, clicked on Google and typed in “ghosts.” She quickly scanned the first couple of pages and even went to several Web sites to check them out, but she found nothing helpful. Most of the stuff was about ectoplasm and orbs and mists and photographs that looked more like anomalies of lighting than ghostly presences. She tried “ghost hair” and found the listings even less helpful. Surely there was somebody around who knew about ghosts—real ghosts, not amorphous blobs.

Well, she’d always been one to rely on primary sources, so she turned off her laptop and stood up.

“Senator?” she whispered.

Nothing.

She walked to the front door, where she’d last seen him. “Senator?”

Still nothing.

Cass walked to her back bedroom and yelled, “Dammit, Senator, where are you when I need to talk to you?”

Nada.

She felt like a total idiot. So much for her ghost hunting exploits. She hadn’t actually seen a ghost, she told herself.
Such things didn’t exist. Most of the people she’d read about on the Net sounded like nut jobs, didn’t they?

Her experiences had a perfectly rational explanation. She’d had some sort of brain blip and imagined the whole thing—like a mirage. A mirage—that was it, especially for Sunny. Her sister had always yearned for a father for as long as Cass could remember. For some reason, Cass didn’t miss having a dad as much as her twin did. Sunny’s desperate need for a father had conjured one up—like a thirsty man lost in the desert conjures up an oasis or a lonely child creates an imaginary friend.

Forget it, Cass told herself. Why had she become obsessed about an imaginary man and his imaginary hair? Who cared?

She had a stack of reading she needed to do for POAC. With all the chaos, she’d let her duties in the organization slide this week. After she dressed for bed, she plumped up three pillows against her headboard, climbed between the sheets and started reading the material Karen, POAC’s secretary, had dropped off yesterday. Cass had to be ready for a meeting with the board tomorrow morning.

C
ASS AWOKE WITH
a start. Her glass-block window showed it was still dark outside, and she glanced at her digital clock. The red numerals read 4:18. A dream had awakened her. A very odd dream.

She lay in bed, unmoving, and mulled over the contents. They’d been walking through a rose garden, she and the Senator, strolling along and enjoying the beauty and fragrance of the flowers.

“I heard you calling,” he’d said.

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you. And, too, I wasn’t truly sure you wanted me to answer.”

“I suspect you’re right.” She laughed at herself. “I’m not frightened of you now. I had a question to ask you.”

He smiled. “About my hair.”

“Yes.”

“Appearances don’t matter very much. What’s inside is what counts. Wherever I am, however I look, I’m your father, and I love you very much. Had you rather see me this way?” His appearance suddenly changed from a distinguished older man with gray hair to a much younger man with dark hair who favored Sam Outlaw a great deal.

She gasped at the sudden and startling transformation.

“Or this way?” He turned back into the gray-haired man. “Which one seems like your father?”

“The later, of course. I understand,” she said. “You’ve aged along with us for our sakes. Which are you really?”

“I’m both. And neither. But I’m always around when you and Sunny call. At least for now.” In the dream he’d broken off a rose and put it in Cass’s hair. “It’s important for you to always remember to follow your heart. Don’t forget that.”

Now, in her bedroom, she could still smell the sweet scent of the rose, but when she reached for it in her hair, it wasn’t there.

Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered into the dark.

A
T TEN O
’
CLOCK
, C
ASS
called the meeting to order. Five members of the board, Karen and herself were present. Gordon Velt, a sociology professor at UT and vice president of the board, was out of town. The others were Anita Rojas, a real estate agent; Herman Jacobs, an arborist; Martin Sevier, publisher of a weekly newspaper; and Louella Johnson, a retired school librarian who served as treasurer. Several other
members of their organization served in advisory positions and headed various committees, but weren’t in attendance.

After getting through their usual agenda, including learning from Louella about a treasury that needed a few more healthy donations, Anita, the real estate agent, brought something to their attention. “Scuttlebutt has it that a representative of outside interests is in town checking out several commercial sites suitable for a new high-rise.”

Herman and Martin groaned. “Just what we need,” Herman said. “Do you know which sites?”

“Those I know about—one on West Ninth and one on Guadalupe—probably aren’t of specific interest to us,” Anita said. “I don’t know what other properties might be involved through direct negotiations with owners.”

“Do you know who the party is or what company he or she represents?” Cass asked.

Anita shook her head. “Sorry. The agent involved is keeping the information close to his vest. I’ll stay alert and see if I can find out. As soon as I know anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Do that,” Cass said. “And I’ll get Darlene’s development committee busy beating the bushes for funds for the coffer in case we have a fight on our hands.”

“Which we will,” Martin said, “sooner or later.”

“We’ve had another offer to buy the Chili Witches property,” Cass told them. “I wonder if it’s the same firm as the person in town scouting out sites.”

“You’re not going to sell, are you?” Martin asked.

“When pigs fly,” Cass said. “Any other business?”

They discussed three other minor concerns, then ended the meeting.

Anita stopped Cass on their way out. “Are you interested
in selling either this property or the one next door? I have a client who may be interested in one or both houses.”

“I don’t think so. I plan to live here and rent out the other one. Things have been pretty hectic lately, and I haven’t been able to meet with the contractor to start renovations. Hopefully, I can get on it soon and be ready to move in by the end of summer.”

“I heard about the flood at Chili Witches,” Martin said. “Is everything okay now?”

“Yes, we’re reopening today.”

“I understand it was malicious mischief. Do the police have any suspects?”

“Not that we’ve heard,” Cass said.

“You mean it was deliberate?” Anita asked.

Cass nodded.

“Do you think it has anything to do with your being president of POAC?”

“I hope not, but I have no way of knowing.”

“That’s terrible,” Anita said. “Just terrible. I’m incensed about someone doing something so needlessly destructive. Was your lovely bar damaged?”

“Luckily, no. The floors in the dining room got the worst of it, and they’ve been replaced.”

“I’ll stop by for lunch one day this week and check them out,” Martin said.

Cass waved goodbye to the departing board and stayed behind a few minutes to go over a few things with Karen. Since it was nearing lunchtime, they walked to Katz’s Deli for a Reuben.

W
HEN
C
ASS ARRIVED HOME
an hour later, she was surprised at the number of cars still in the lot and on the street. Going
in the back way of Chili Witches, she ran into a frazzled Aunt Min in jeans and a red tee.

“What are you doing here?” Cass asked.

“Your mother and I came to help. Good thing we did. It’s been a mob scene here. I think every cop in Austin has been in. We’re doing a bang-up business. A few more days like this will make up for the losses of last week.”

“That’s great. Need more help?”

“Ask Sunny, but I think it has slowed to manageable now.”

Cass found her sister, who told her everything was under control and to enjoy the rest of her day off. Since Cass was picking up Griff soon, she didn’t argue.

If he was still interested in their excursion. After his odd behavior last night, she wasn’t sure. He hadn’t called to cancel, so she assumed it was still on. She’d made reservations for a Segway tour of the city, ending at the Ann Richards Bridge on Congress. The bridge, renamed after the late governor, joined the two halves of Austin separated by the Colorado River and its reservoir, Lady Bird Lake. She’d seen the Segway riders around town, and she’d been eager to learn to ride one. Or drive one. Or whatever. It looked like fun. She hoped Griff thought so.

At the appointed time, she drove to his hotel and was pleased to find him waiting outside for her and dressed in the jeans she’d suggested he wear.

“Hey, babe,” Griff said as he climbed into her car.

“Hey, yourself. Ready for an adventure?”

“Always. Where are we going?”

“Not far. In fact, just a few blocks from here.” She headed out to the place where she’d been directed. “First, we have to have a training session.”

“A training session? Are we going skydiving?”

“Lord, no. You won’t see me jumping out of a plane. Have you ever done it?”

“Nope,” he said, “but I’ve always wanted to try.”

“Must not have wanted to too badly,” she said, “or you’d have done it.”

Griff laughed. “Point taken.”

She soon pulled into the lot where the tour started and the training session was held.

“Segways!” he said.

“Yep. Ever been on one?”

“Never, but I’ve always—”

“Wanted to try,” she finished for him. “Me, too. Want to give it a whirl? They’ll guide us on a tour of interesting places in downtown Austin, and we’ll end up watching the bats.”

“I’m game. Let’s go.” He put his arm around her waist as they walked up to the training area. “Thanks for thinking of this.”

Learning to ride one of the two-wheeled contraptions, which reminded Cass a little of a cross between an old-fashioned push lawn mower and the front end of a scooter, wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought. You just stood on the platform between the wheels and leaned in the direction you wanted to go, then moved upright to stop—an intuitive connection between rider and machine. It had fat tires and all sorts of internal gyroscopes and high tech stuff. If you wanted to turn right or left, you simply pulled the handlebars in the corresponding direction. Easy. And fun.

Soon she, Griff and the other tourists were zipping around the practice course like pros and having a blast. They had an excellent guide, well versed in Austin history, who led them on the city tour, with stops at the state capitol and the historic Driskill Hotel, as well as some of the monuments and statues and notable houses around town. They rode down the length of Sixth Street and through the Second Street shopping
district, and tootled around the lake. The tour was a lengthy one, and they ended up on the banks near the bridge at dusk.

As the lights of the city came on and the sun sank beneath the horizon, they dismounted and hung their helmets on the handlebars to see the final act of the show. Their guide stayed to watch their machines, and most of their group walked up onto the pedestrian walkway of the wide bridge. Cass and Griff lagged behind.

“Have you enjoyed this?” she asked.

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her nose. “I’ve had a fantastic time. Makes me feel like a kid again. Thanks for thinking of it. Is this where we see the bats?”

“Yep,” she said. “They should be leaving at any time.”

“Are you sure they won’t suck our blood?”

Cass poked him in the side. “Positive.”

Griff looked around. “I can’t believe so many people showed up to watch bats fly out from under a bridge.”

“Just wait, Mr. Smarty-pants.”

“Smarty-pants?” He laughed. “I don’t believe anybody’s ever called me smarty-pants before.”

“Sorry,” Cass said. “Holdover from childhood. Look!” She pointed to where a few bats were beginning to take flight.

“Is that it?”

“No, that’s just the beginning. Let’s go watch from the bridge.”

They hurried to the railing and watched the sky fill with tiny animals fluttering from beneath the bridge and turning into black, winding streams against the faint pinks and grays of the gathering dusk. As wave after wave took flight, people around them began to ooh and aah and applaud.

“Good Lord!” Griff said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There must be thousands of them.”

“Told you. There are about a million and a half at last estimate.”

“Are they here all the time?” Griff asked, keeping his eyes on the spectacle.

“Nope. Only from about March through October. Just like birds, they head south for the winter.”

They seemed to go on in never-ending streams for a half hour or more, and when the last bat had left in the growing darkness, Cass and Griff rode with the group back to the assembly area and to Cass’s car.

“Want to have dinner?” he asked.

“Sure. How about some Mexican food at Chuy’s? Since I’m working tomorrow, I need to make it an early evening.”

“Not too early, I hope,” Griff said. “I’m leaving for New York tomorrow.”