Texas Moon - Joan Elliott Pickart

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want to know the part you played in what my friend saw. That’s certainly a reasonable request. I—”

      He was interrupted by the tinkling of the bell over the door as a short, plump woman in her sixties bustled in, carrying a grocery sack. Breathing a mental sigh of relief at the reprieve, Tux stepped back out of the way.

      “Hello, darling,” the woman greeted Nancy. “How are you this lovely summer morning?” She glanced at Tux. “Oh, you have company. Go right ahead with what you were doing. I’ll wait.”

      “We’re just chatting,” Nancy replied. “Glenna Cushman, this is Tux Bishop. Tux, Glenna owns the used clothes store down the block.”

      Tux smiled. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am. I saw your shop. The Second Time Around is a clever name.”

      “I know,” Glenna said, laughing merrily. “I was so tickled with myself when I thought of it.” She slid her gaze over Tux from head to toe, then back again. “Hmmm, aren’t you a dandy hunk of stuff? Yummy.” She looked at Nancy. “Nancy Shatner, please say you noticed that this is one very sexy man.”

      Tux laughed.

      Nancy blushed a pretty pink and rolled her eyes heavenward.

      “Glenna, please,” Nancy said, with a moan. “Hush. All right?”

      “Well, facts are facts, dear,” Glenna persisted. “The man definitely does wonderful things for a pair of jeans. Beads and buttons simply won’t keep a woman warm on a snowy winter night.”

      “Glenna,” Nancy said, leaning slightly toward her, “this is Houston, Texas. We don’t have snowy winter nights.”

      “Figure of speech. You know what I mean,” Glenna said. “You’re young and beautiful. You need a man in your life. Tux, don’t you think Nancy is beautiful?”

      “Glenna,” he said, his voice very low and rumbly as he looked directly at Nancy, “I think Nancy is extremely beautiful. She reminds me of a gypsy. Oh, yes, she is definitely beautiful.” And now he knew she was unattached, was not involved in a relationship with a man. Thank you, Glenna Cushman.

      Dear heaven, Nancy thought, unable to tear her gaze from Tux’s mesmerizing blue eyes. She could hardly breathe and her heart was beating like a drum.

      Tux’s voice had dropped an octave, and she felt as though it were caressing her like dark velvet, creating thrumming heat as it swept over and throughout her. Tux Bishop was having a very unsettling and unwelcomed effect on her, drat him.

      “I must dash back to the store,” Glenna announced, breaking the strange sensuous spell that had weaved around Tux and Nancy. “I just took some things that came in late yesterday out of the washer and dryer. Per usual, my darling girl, you get first pick. I thought this was perfect for you.”

      Glenna reached into the sack and whipped out a garment that she flipped onto the top of the bins in a splash of color.

      It was a bright blue shawl.

      Two

      Nancy stared at the blue shawl as she agreed absently with Glenna that it was lovely. The older woman reminded Nancy once again how handsome Tux was, then hurried out the door to return to her own store.

      “Tux?” Nancy said. She tore her eyes from the shawl to look at him. “You told me your friend couldn’t see into the future.”

      “He can’t.” He frowned as he met her troubled gaze.

      “But he did. He saw me wearing the shawl before it belonged to me, and now here it is.”

      “Yeah, here it is.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Why would he suddenly glimpse something from the future? I can’t accept this.”

      “Oh, really?” Nancy returned, her voice rising. “Pitching a fit isn’t going to change the fact that I now own a bright blue shawl. You keep dancing around the subject of what was happening to me in those visions. I want you to tell me.”

      Once again the tinkling bell over the door announced the entrance of someone into the store, and once again Tux sighed inwardly with relief.

      An attractive, middle-aged woman, who was smartly dressed in an obviously expensive sundress with a matching wide-brimmed hat, went to the row of bins.

      “Good morning,” the woman said, smiling at Nancy. “I need some beads for a blouse I’m having made. It has a Western style, and I thought it would be nice if beads were added to the fringe. A friend told me about your store, so I drove all the way over here to select the beads myself.”

      “I appreciate your making the trip,” Nancy replied pleasantly. “Now then, what color is the blouse and what kind of material is it being made from?”

      Tux tuned out the discussion between the two women. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and wandered around the narrow area making up the front portion of the store.

      There was a lot of inventory in a small space, he mused. Nancy Shatner had used every inch of room to advantage. The sun pouring in the gleaming front window cascaded over the bins of buttons and beads, creating an extremely appealing kaleidoscope of color.

      There were more beads than buttons, he noticed. The beads were a variety of every shape, size, color and material imaginable. There were even leather beads, as well as some that looked like delicate crystal.

      Tux stopped in front of the two bins holding the buttons. He picked up a square button that appeared to be hand-painted china, then carefully replaced it. The next one he scrutinized was a replica of a buffalo nickel, the one after that a tiny wooden log.

      Fascinating, he thought, and very clever. It would be interesting to know how Nancy had come to the decision to operate such an unusual business. It would, in fact, be interesting to know more about Nancy Shatner herself, the woman.

      Tux went to the front window and stared at the shabby, empty building he’d leaned against across the street.

      Surely Nancy didn’t live above Buttons and Beads, he thought. This was definitely not a neighborhood for a woman alone to take up residency. Not even close. It wasn’t that great a location to operate a business, but low rent had no doubt enticed Nancy to set up shop here.

      Her reputation for having quality merchandise was obviously spreading, as evidenced by the arrival of Mrs. Megabucks from across town. He had to give Nancy credit for what she’d accomplished, that was for sure.

      “There you are,” Nancy said, handing the woman a white bag. “Thank you so much. Your blouse is going to be beautiful. I tucked one of my catalogs into that bag so you can browse at your leisure, and I’ll put your name on my mailing list so you’ll be notified of special sales in the future.”

      “Marvelous,” the woman said. “I’ll certainly tell all my friends about Buttons and Beads. Some won’t come into this section of town, so I’ll share the catalog, too. Goodbye for now.”

      “Goodbye,” Nancy said, “and thank you again.”

      The woman left the store, and Tux turned from the window to look at Nancy.

      “You seem to have everything covered from A to Z,” he said. “I’m impressed, ma’am.”

      “Thank you, sir.” She smiled as she dipped her head slightly. “What kind of work do you do?”

      “I’m a private investigator,” Tux said, walking slowly back toward the bins.

      “Really? I’ve never met a detective before. Were you a police officer?”

      “No, I worked for the government until about a year or so ago.”

      “Ah, I see. Then you were, no doubt, a secret agent of some kind.”

      Tux frowned. “I didn’t say that.”

      “It’s obvious. You

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