Widow's Tears (3 page)

But it was the sight of the Gulf that most startled Rachel, for the normally blue-green waves were a thick, chocolate-pudding brown, laden with sand and laced with ropes of seaweed. And they weren't waves at all, not in the usual dancing way. These were slow-moving swells, heavy, mud-brown hills of water that crashed with a roar higher and higher upon the beach,
the sound shuddering through the earth, through the wooden pilings and floors and frame of the house, so that even at the highest point, on the widow's walk, Rachel could feel the whole weight of each wave almost as if it were crashing directly against her feet.

She could not know what was to come. No one in Galveston could know, or even imagine, that by midnight, over eight thousand of their fellow citizens would be swept away by the hurricane and drowned.

But she could feel it coming and was afraid.

“I'm outta here,” Ruby said, coming through the connecting door between her shop and Thyme and Seasons. It was warm for early May (the high was forecast to be in the 80s) and she was wearing a full-skirted lemon yellow sundress that bared her freckled arms. Her
carroty red hair was snugged into a ponytail and fastened with a hank of yellow yarn, and her yellow sandals displayed red-painted toes. She looked bright and perky, like a retro 1960s sunbeam—a six-foot, red-haired sunbeam, sure to attract attention. But Ruby is magnetic. She attracts attention, whatever she's wearing. She can't help it. She's a sight for sore eyes.

“How long will you be gone?” I asked, looking up from the books I was inventorying. “Is Dawn Zudel coming in this morning?” Dawn is Ruby's current shop helper, and a dynamo, with merry green eyes and copper-brown hair cut into a chin-length bob. She worked in a law office for eight years, then “retired” to several years as a full-time mom. Now, she comes in when we need extra help and takes care of the Crystal Cave whenever Ruby takes a few hours off, which isn't very often. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time Ruby planned to be gone for more than a day.

Ruby hooked her bag over her shoulder. “Yes, Dawn is opening this morning. She'll be working for me in the tearoom, too. You know how good she is with people.” She frowned worriedly. “I told Claire I'd stay for a week. But maybe that's too long. Is that too long, China? You're sure you and Cass and Dawn can manage without me?”

“Good, no, and yes, in that order.” I patted her bare shoulder reassuringly. “A week is a long time, and we will definitely miss you. It will be next to impossible to manage in your absence, even with Dawn on the job, but we'll do it. Don't worry about us, Ruby. You've been working so hard—you deserve to take some time off.” It was true. I'd been worrying about her. She had been burying herself in her work lately, scarcely coming up for air. “It looks like you'll have good weather, too, at least for another day or two,” I added.

Ruby looked doubtful. “Didn't I hear that there's a tropical wave or something out there in the Gulf somewhere, heading toward South Texas?”

“Not to worry,” I said comfortingly. “It's only a baby—doesn't even
have a name. It's way too early in the season for serious hurricanes. And where you're going, you'll be a hundred and twenty miles inland. Think sunshine, and lots of it.”

Before Ruby gets out the door, though, maybe we'd better pause for introductions. If you've visited Thyme and Seasons before, we've probably met, and you can skip the next few paragraphs. If not, this might help. Here goes.

My name is China Bayles. I am a former criminal defense attorney who once worked for a big Houston law firm that represented big bad guys with enough
dinero
to pay for a pass out of the justice system. I left my law career and the city in search of a gentler, less sadistic way of life and ended up as the proprietor of an herb shop in Pecan Springs, a friendly Texas town just off I-35, halfway between Austin and San Antonio, at the eastern edge of the Hill Country. I'm married to Mike McQuaid, a former Houston homicide detective, currently a part-time faculty member in the Criminal Justice department at Central Texas State University and a more or less full-time private investigator with his own firm. McQuaid and I are the parents of two great kids: his son Brian, who just graduated high school and is headed for University of Texas at Austin in the fall; and twelve-year-old Caitlin, my niece and our adopted daughter.

Now for that six-foot sunbeam. Ruby Wilcox and I aren't just best friends but longtime business partners. Ruby owns the Crystal Cave, in the same building as Thyme and Seasons. The Cave is the only New Age shop in Pecan Springs—which isn't surprising, I suppose, since most good ol' Texans are brought up to be fidgety about things like astrology, tarot, and the Ouija board. But the shop is a perfect fit for Ruby, who is so perceptive that she sometimes scares me. It scares her, too. She doesn't like to go too deep into otherworldly stuff, but she can tell you things about yourself that you haven't yet discovered, and she can coax the Ouija board
(as our friend Sheila Dawson puts it) to tell more tales than the gossips at Bobbi Rae's House of Beauty. The idea that Ruby Wilcox might encourage their womenfolk to tune into something more soul-satisfying than
The Young and the Restless
tends to make male Pecan Springers…well, restless.

Wait—there's more. A couple of years ago, Ruby (who has the soul of a psychic but the planning skills of an entrepreneur) proposed that we open Thyme for Tea in the space at the back of our building, a two-story limestone structure a few blocks east of the courthouse square in Pecan Springs. We signed a partnership agreement (a good thing to have when people decide to pool their time, money, and resources on a long-term business project), rolled up our sleeves, and got busy remodeling—a lot of work, especially the kitchen, which had to meet state licensing requirements—but a big payoff. Even when the shop traffic slows down, our tearoom usually shows a profit.

And then two more things happened. Ruby came up with the idea for Party Thyme, our catering service, and Cassandra Wilde came along with a proposal for the Thymely Gourmet. Cass uses the tearoom kitchen not only for tearoom meals, but to prepare both our catering menus and the meals she schleps to well-heeled clients who can afford to pick up the tab for their own personal chef. The business is a natural for her: Cass spent nearly fifteen years in the food service industry and is certified as a personal chef by the American Culinary Federation.

In Cass' words, this menagerie keeps us on our toes and moving fast, like a trio of lady lion tamers with a pride of lions at the tips of our whips. But we're a great team, working well together, in synch like choreographed dancers. And even though we are really too busy, we always remind one another that it's better to be busy than otherwise.
Busy
is what
counts when it comes to the bottom line. And the bottom line (black, not red) is what counts when it comes to the bank.

So that's us. Where our businesses are concerned, Ruby, Cass, and I are your basic, no-nonsense, hard-working, go-for-it-now-and-don't-stop girls. Still, every now and then even the most committed capitalist has to stop and smell the daisies. Cass took off for a few days in March to go camping with a friend. McQuaid and the kids and I stayed at my mother's ranch near Kerrville during spring break—maybe the last time Brian will be content to spend spring break with the family.

Now it's Ruby's turn, and yes, she definitely needs some time off. Spring is a difficult time for her, and the last few weeks have been especially hard. Colin Fowler, the love of her life, was killed—murdered—in late April two years ago, so this is an anniversary of sorts. She was madly in love with him, and when Ruby is in love, it is total, no-doubts-no-worries free-fall. She takes a deep breath, opens her heart, and flings herself into the void, doing double somersaults all the way down, with no bungee cord to brake her fall at the bottom, while her friends stand at the precipice, cover their eyes, and cry “Ruby, wait! What are you
thinking
?” With Ruby, love is either a passionate, whole-hearted, hang-onto-your-hat affair, or it isn't. Isn't love, that is.

Their affair was fatally flawed from the very beginning, because Colin wasn't who he said he was. He was Dan Reid, an undercover Dallas narcotics agent who was assigned to get the goods on a Pecan Springs businessman in cahoots with a Mexican drug cartel. Ruby loves mysteries (Agatha Christie, Sue Grafton, and Carolyn Keene are among her favorite authors), but she didn't have a clue about Colin's secret backstory. Her quite remarkable intuitive abilities seem to click into the “off” position when love (and/or lust) switches on.

Ruby was devastated by Colin's murder. She was more devastated when she learned the complicated truth about his life and still more when she discovered that she was the beneficiary of his substantial insurance policy, which she has set aside for Grace's college fund. She's never gotten over him, in spite of the persistent attentions of Hark Hibler, the editor of the
Pecan Springs
Enterprise
. Hark is a man of gentle and generous spirit who truly cares for Ruby and can provide the kind of stability she needs and wants. But in every relationship I've known about, Ruby has adored the significant other more than he has cared for her. As long as something inside her continues to believe that love isn't love unless it's a one-way affair, she and Hark are not going to make it. And really—isn't it time she got over Colin? It's been two years, for crying out loud. And they weren't married. She's not a widow.

But there's no room for anyone else in Ruby's heart, which is why April and May are such difficult months. And it's why I've encouraged her to take some time off to visit her friend—although I'm not entirely sure she wants to go.

Ruby began ticking off items on her fingers. “Okay. Mrs. Wauer will come over to the house to water the plants and feed the cats. Ramona will keep tabs on Mom at the nursing home. Dawn will be in every day to manage the shop—she knows a lot about everything that goes on there, but if she can't find something, she'll ask. I'm worried about Grace, though. Amy says she has another nasty sore throat. I really hate to go away when Grace is sick. Could you check on her every so often?”

Mrs. Wauer is Ruby's next-door neighbor, the one with the yappy little poodle. Ramona is Ruby's sister, who recently moved out of Ruby's house and got a place of her own—and a good thing, too, since they're not the most compatible siblings in the world. Dawn Zudel is an indispensable helper in the Crystal Cave, now that she has gotten her kids—all
five of them!—raised and on their own. Amy is Ruby's wild-child daughter, partnered with Kate Rodriguez for over three years now, which is longer than some marriages last. And Grace, nearly three years old, is Ruby's granddaughter—although Ruby definitely does not look like your average granny.

I put down my list of books. “I'll be glad to. But how come you can't call and check on Grace yourself?”

“No phone. The previous owners of Claire's house never had a phone put in.”

“You're kidding,” I said incredulously.

Ruby shook her head. “Nope. It's the truth. And the phone company wants to charge Claire a fortune for the installation, since hers is the only house on the road.”

“Can't you use your cell phone?”

“Maybe, but Claire says not to count on getting a signal. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.” She paused, looking a little apprehensive, I thought. “The house is out in the middle of nowhere, you know, seven or eight miles past Round Top, at the end of a private lane off a county road. It's isolated. I mean, really.” She caught her lower lip in her teeth. “To tell the truth, I sort of wish I…That is, maybe I shouldn't have agreed to—”