Belle Pointe - Karen Young MIRA

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who had been an athlete—a good one—but had never quite made it to the pros. From the time Buck was a boy, Oscar Pittman, Ty’s daddy, had been employed by the Whitakers operating and repairing machinery at Belle Pointe. Buck and Ty had played together, gone to school together, been busted for smoking together. They’d done a few other things together that Buck didn’t like to think about. Only by the grace of God and Ty’s mother, Frances, they hadn’t wound up as outlaws. The woman was a saint.

      “I know it’s a lot to ask, Ty, but I’d count it a personal favor if you’d consider my offer. I know you probably have a life in Memphis—”

      “Like a wife and eight kids?”

      “Holy—” Buck stopped himself. “Are you serious?”

      Tyrone laughed. “Gotcha goin’, didn’t I? No kids, but I married Lily Thigpen, you remember her, don’t you?”

      “I do. Lucky you.”

      “She keeps reminding me. You say your lady’s okay after the crash? I’ve seen her at the games and she’s nearly as pretty as you are.”

      “Anne. I’ll introduce you when you get here.”

      “Sounds good.”

      “So, you like the plan? You think you can wrap up things there in Memphis and be in Tallulah within, say a week or two?”

      “For a chance to add to my credentials a patient whose name is as big as Buck Whitaker’s? I think I can manage that.”

      For the first time in the conversation, Buck relaxed. “Then here’s my cell phone and the number of the Jacks sports medicine director who can give you the technical details of my injury and will no doubt tell you the treatment regimen he recommends, which you can decide to follow or not. Name’s Steve Grissom.” He reeled off the numbers and waited as Ty wrote them down. “Give it a day before calling Grissom, okay?” he added.

      “Why? I assume the Jacks are okay with this?”

      “They don’t know about it yet.”

      “Whoa now, Buck! How can you—”

      “I’ll handle it. And Ty…”

      “Yeah?”

      “I know what I’m asking is a lot, so I’m prepared to put my promises in writing. We’ll have a contract, all right and tight and legal. You think it over and if you decide it’s too risky or you just don’t want to go there, I’ll…well—”

      “You’ll think of another incentive,” Ty said with a smile in his voice.

      “Yeah, probably. But if you do this, I’ll owe you and I won’t forget it, Ty, I swear.”

      “I’ll hold you to that, buddy.”

      Five

      On her way to the Spectator, Anne impulsively decided to stop at Beatrice’s shop. She’d probably be recognized, but now that Pearce had outed her at the gas station, she might as well satisfy her curiosity about her stepmother’s place of business.

      A bell tinkled over the door of the Hodge-Podge as she entered and somewhere in the back of the store Beatrice called out, “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

      “It’s just me,” Anne said, wandering over to a display of pottery. She had always loved pottery and had once joined a class to learn the craft, but like other projects she’d undertaken, she’d had to quit when Buck’s career forced yet another move. Somehow, she’d never re-enrolled.

      “What a nice surprise,” Beatrice said giving her an affectionate hug. “You’ve decided to come out of hiding.”

      “Might as well since my cover’s blown,” Anne told her. “I had to stop for gas and who else but Pearce pulled up at the same time. He assumes Buck is here with me and hasn’t bothered to call his mother.”

      “Seems a reasonable assumption. Did you explain?”

      Anne sighed. “No, I lied. More or less. I didn’t admit Buck was still in St. Louis. I thanked him for his invitation to Belle Pointe and told him Buck would be in touch.”

      “Naughty girl.” Beatrice clicked her tongue and wagged a finger at Anne.

      “I know,” Anne said with chagrin. “You can believe I’ll soon have to come clean because he’s counting on Buck’s endorsement for his campaign. I bet he’s trying to reach him right now, probably at your house, which is where he thinks Buck and I are staying.” She stopped. “But enough of that. I’m here to see your shop. It’s wonderful.”

      “Do you think so?” Beatrice said with a pleased look around. “I mean, is it wonderful? I try, of course. What you see is mostly the work of Mississippi artists, pottery, candles, soap and all local whenever possible. I—”

      She stopped as the bell over the door tinkled. “Oh, shoot! Let me take care of this customer while you look around and—” She stopped again, recognizing the woman entering. “Oh, Victoria. Goodness, it’s been a while. How are you?”

      “I’m well, Beatrice.” With a regal nod, Buck’s mother headed toward them. “And you?”

      “Good, I’m good.”

      Victoria’s cool gaze shifted to Anne. “Hello, Anne. I thought I might find you here. Pearce called after running into you a while ago and no one answered the phone at the Marshes’. I was a bit surprised to hear you were in Tallulah.”

      “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.” Anne managed a smile, uncertain about greeting her mother-in-law with a hug. It would be like embracing a mannequin. When Victoria kept her distance, Anne relaxed. “And how are you?”

      “Busy. Very busy. I imagine Buck has described the flurry of activity at Belle Pointe this time of year. We’re up at dawn and we don’t stop until dark.”

      “It must be exhausting,” Anne murmured. In fact, Victoria looked tired. Upon meeting her for the first time, Anne had been struck by the woman’s vigor. She guessed her mother-in-law’s age at about sixty, but she’d always looked fifteen years younger. Today, however, even with skillfully applied makeup, she looked her age.

      “Well, of course, it is exhausting, but not so much so that I couldn’t find time for a phone call, if not a visit, from Buck. His trips to Tallulah are rare enough that I would have decided to have a little celebration,” she said. “Of course, I would have to know he was here.”

      Anne sighed. It was silly to think she could be in Tallulah and avoid explaining Buck’s absence. “Buck is not here, Victoria,” she admitted. “I came alone.”

      “Really?” Perfectly penciled eyebrows went up a notch. “Does that mean he was more seriously injured in the accident than he told me when I called?”

      “I don’t know what he told you.”

      “Well, knowing the media’s habit of sensationalizing anything about him, I wanted to hear from him personally the extent of his injuries. When I finally got beyond his answer machine, he said the media exaggerated. He’d be up and playing before long.”

      Anne sighed. “He had a concussion, Victoria, and he’ll need extensive physical therapy before he can pitch again. When I left, it wasn’t clear just how long that would be.”

      “And you left…when?”

      “We were both discharged from the hospital on Monday. I left Tuesday.”

      “I’m finding it somewhat puzzling that you chose a time when Buck is…handicapped to take a vacation.”

      “Buck would be the first to say he doesn’t need me to hold his hand at any time, Victoria. You must know that he isn’t the type to tolerate anybody hovering over him.”

      “Hmm…yes.”

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