Carlo's mood changed. "Of course. Whatever you need. 1 will put extra in the box." He switched to English. "It is good that you become her friend."

The box was a leather case on Davis's desk in the den. He always left several hundred dollars in it for Anna in case she needed household funds. A checkbook with her name on it rested in the bottom of the box for emergencies.

"I-I may be gone most of the day."

Carlo nodded. "I will have someone exercise the horse you are training. Do not worry about it." He seemed almost in a hurry to be rid of her.

Anna watched him go, then collected the money. As she twisted her hair in a long braid and circled it at the back of her neck, she thought that in her country it would have been the proper style for a woman in mourning. She also wore black, but broke with custom by adding a multicolored scarf.

An hour later, she pulled into the garage beneath the bank and the Randell House Restaurant. She was early, but she planned to enjoy a cup of tea before Helena arrived.

As she stepped from her car, she saw Zack Larson walk out of the elevator and start across the shadowy parking lot toward her.

He walked in long strides to his pickup with his head down.

Anna was not sure what to do. If she stood perfectly still, he probably would not even notice her. If she moved, he might speak to her. She was not sure which would be worse.

Words lodged in her throat preventing all possibility of calling to him. Her hands shook. Her purse fell to the concrete.

Zack looked up and froze. His troubled frown lifted slightly as he held her gaze.

They were both aware of other people rushing from the elevator to their cars.

He took a few long steps and knelt at her side, picking up her purse. "You dropped this, ma'am."

"n-thank you." Her hand brushed his as she took the purse.

He touched his fingers to his Stetson and walked away without another word.

Anna forced herself to turn and walk toward the elevator. She did not breathe until the door closed and she stood alone. By the time she reached the second floor, Anna was once more in complete control. No one who saw their brief exchange would suspect anything.

She sat enjoying her tea, thinking of how once more Zack Lawson had kept his word. When Helena joined her, Anne was a little surprised to see how tired the older woman looked. Helena explained that she had not been sleeping well.

"We have much to do," she whispered as if she and Anna were planning a great crime and not just having lunch.

Before she could add more, Meredith Allen joined them and a moment later, Crystal Howard.

The widows are assembled, Anna thought. All except Randi. Meredith was dressed in a Christmas sweatshirt that had a Santa Claus head made from yarn sewn on it. She apologized for having only an hour for lunch before she had to be back to work at the clerk's office.

Crystal also looked tired, but there was a grace about her that had not been there months ago when Anna first met her. Crystal was growing. She looked comfortable in her clothes and at home in this restaurant.

"Now, we're all here." Helena opened the luncheon as though it were a board meeting. "We have a problem."

The three younger women leaned closer. If Helena had a problem they were all three there to help.

Helena took a deep breath and got right to it. "Randi got arrested last night."

"What?" Crystal shouted, shattering her new image. "She was with me until ten when I drove her back to her hotel." Crystal looked at the others and added, "What with Shelby coming home yesterday and all the nurses moving In, Randi said she would rather stay at a hotel and get a good night's sleep before she headed back this morning. I figured she'd be halfway to Memphis by now. How did she have enough time to get into trouble in the past few hours?"

"What happened?" Meredith directed her question to Helena.

The senior woman among them shrugged and continued her report, "From what I've been able to piece together, she must have driven over to the bar for a nightcap. She took out one of the light poles at Frankie's place when she left. I phoned Sheriff Farrington about it this morning after my daughter notified me. Her husband works for the electric company and was called in early to shut off the electricity going to the pole. I swear, nothing happens in this town that I don't hear about before the newspaper even has time to report on it.

"Anyway, that is beside the point. The sheriff told me Frankie was fighting mad at Randi and wanted to file charges. He claims she did it on purpose. Sheriff Farrington thinks that might be the case since she wasn't legally drunk, and she's spent most of her time this morning calling Frankie names when he finally woke her up at the motel. He said there is a pole-size dent in her bumper, so there is little chance of her pleading innocent."

Meredith was not following. "Why would she do such a thing?" In her world, accidents happened, not intentional destruction.

"You don't know Randi." Crystal sounded suddenly depressed: "She's got a temper and old Frankie loves to push her buttons. Which isn't hard to do when she's been drinking. She never mentioned it to me, but someone told me once that he's always telling her she married the wrong Howard. Giving her a hard time about how she didn't get rich like I did."

Anna knew the reason did not matter. The problem still needed to be solved. "How can we help her?"

Helena took a long sip of coffee before she answered. "One of us has to see the sheriff about making her bail, and one of us must go into Frankie's place and talk him into dropping the charges. Maybe we could even offer to pay for new lights around the parking lot. Money usually makes this kind of situation seem a little better."

Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.

Anna spoke first. "I-I will pay for the lights." Contributing money was far easier than talking to someone she did not know.

"I'll talk to Frankie," Meredith volunteered.

Helena and Crystal both looked surprised. They had expected her to choose talking with the sheriff. After all, she would be working a few doors down from him all afternoon.

"That leaves me to discuss the matter with the sheriff." Helena nodded once as if finalizing a deal. "Crystal, you've got your hands full with Shelby right now."

Crystal frowned for a moment, then brightened. "I could have one of the mechanics who works for Howard Drilling check on her car. By the time you all get her out of jail, I could have it gassed up and ready to make the trip back to Memphis."

"That would be a good idea," Helena agreed. "This place has nothing but bad memories for Randi. Maybe she needs time away."

Helena did not have to say more. Anna and the others understood. Each dealt with grief in their own way. For Randi, maybe it was drinking. At least in Tennessee, she would not be reminded of her Jimmy every place she turned.

The women talked on of other things. An hour later, when they parted, they were all soldiers with a mission.

Anna had already figured out where she could get the money to buy the new lights for Frankie's bar. She would tell Carlo she wanted to make a donation to a charity Helena Whitworth supported. He would never question it.

Along muddy, tent-lined streets, boomtown joints served a crude alcoholic drink made popular during Prohibition. They were open round-the-clock to accommodate all shifts from the oil fields. Roughnecks who drank cheap liquor sometimes lost workdays because the alcohol produced a paralysis of the feet and legs.


Saturday, November 28

5:00 p.m.


As Meredith walked down the courthouse hallway, the bells at the Catholic church chimed for Saturday evening mass. They reminded her that this place had once been her palace and she had danced across the marble floors. She knew every corner of the first two stories as if it were her private playhouse.

Her father had never allowed her to climb the stairs to the third floor, just in case a prisoner was being held in the small two-cell holding unit. Once in a while, a man would be brought in for trial early in the morning and transferred out that night to the main jail six miles out of town. She had seen the small elevator in the sheriff's office that only went to the third floor, but doubted it still worked.

She could not help but glance over near the back door when she stopped at Granger's office and told him goodbye. The elevator was still there but the county clerk said Granger, or one of the deputies, took prisoners straight to the main unit nowadays. They did not have the manpower to assign someone to the third floor as a guard.

Granger looked up from his spotless desk and stared at her as if he had forgotten she was in the building.

She did not give him time to say anything. She wanted to get to Frankie's Bar and complete her mission. She was several feet down the hall when she thought she heard him answer, "Evening."

Kevin and she had gone to bars a few times during their college days. She guessed it was still the same-no one ever came early to a bar. So, five o'clock would probably be a slow time if Saturday had a slow time. She could talk to the owner, Frankie, get her business done, and be home before dark.

Clifton Creek once boasted thirty saloons, but when the oil boom slowed, the bars eroded into dilapidated buildings, storage garages, and quick-stop gas and grocery stores. Somehow, like the last dinosaur, Frankie's had survived. It had changed owners several times. In the sixties it was a biker bar, a beer and barbecue stand in the seventies, but since the early eighties, Frankie's place was pure countryand-western music and longnecks.