be something he would be interested in, Noah saw that as his best option.
If only he was handling his return to a more rural lifestyle as well. While there was no denying the countryside’s beauty, he missed Houston and the nightlife, the buzz and being in the inner circle of what was happening in the city and state. But someone had to oversee the family’s estate—the mansion, the near-thousand-acre ranch and tree farm, along with oil and gas leases. His mother had left all of that to his father, although she had a good basic knowledge of what was what. Unfortunately, she was no longer mobile enough to keep on top of things.
At the town square, Noah parked in back of the courthouse building, where their offices were on the first floor. Grabbing his briefcase, he hurried inside. While driving, he’d already answered two calls from the D.A.’s secretary, the last time assuring her that he was as good as in the building. Court commenced in minutes, and today they were choosing a jury for a case related to the largest drug bust in the county’s history. The fact that the accused was the son of a prominent family in the area was garnering a lot of media attention, and it would be the worst day to be late.
Noah rushed into the office just as Judy Millsap exited the D.A.’s office, a bulging file and her steno pad in her arms.
“Oh, thank goodness.” The silver-haired, usually calm woman exhaled with relief as she set her load on her desk. “This is all for you. He’s coming down with a full-fledged case of some bug or other. He thought he could get things started and then let you do the most of the jury interviewing, but he just admitted that even sitting in court might be more than he can manage.”
At sixty-six, Vance Underwood had suffered a few health problems in the past year and had confided that he wanted to retire as soon as his term was over in two years. Catching something as common as a virus could turn things serious quickly.
“Do you think you should get him an ambulance?” Noah asked in concern.
“I asked. He vetoed the idea, but I insisted he let a deputy drive him home. I’ll take his car and hitch a ride back with the officer.”
“It sounds as though his heart doctor should be notified, as well.”
The plump woman with the wedge hairdo nodded her agreement. “So do I, but it’s not up to me. I will call his wife and warn her we’re coming while I wait for the deputy. Perhaps I can convince her that she needs to make that call.”
“Good luck with that.” As much as Noah didn’t want to seem too eager to take control, he was also discreet about making any comments about Mrs. Underwood. It was well-known in the office and elsewhere around town that Elise had never been given a prescription drug she didn’t develop a loving relationship with. Chances were that she wasn’t even out of bed yet, let alone coherent enough to be of any assistance to her husband.
Reaching for the stack, Noah said, “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“Pick an excellent jury.”
* * *
Three hours later, Noah was back at his desk. As luck would have it, the judge had come down with the same virus that the D.A. seemed to be suffering from and the entire day’s docket was rescheduled. Minutes ago, Noah had encouraged Judy to take an early lunch, assuring her that he would stay and watch things at the office. She was grateful, having missed breakfast due to the morning’s hectic situation.
Alone in the office—since their clerk, Ann, was finishing a task and directly heading off to lunch, too—Noah called home to check on his mother. “Has Ramon made it back from the dealership?” he asked.
“I’m glad you called. No, he hasn’t. They just started on my car and told him it would be about two hours. How can a simple matter like a flat take so long?”
Noah wasn’t about to tell her, and replied instead, “They could be shorthanded. We have a lot of illness going around here, too. Or else they saw that the car’s mileage was close to the next scheduled oil change and servicing and convinced Ramon to go ahead and do that.”
“Oh. Well, then, will you be a dear and pick up Bubbles during your lunch hour? Rylie called and Bubbles is not liking being locked in a kennel at all.”
Noah closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why can’t she bring her to you?” She must take a lunch break herself, and since she was eager to build up a clientele base, this would be a great way to make points with a valued customer.
“Shame on you!” his mother replied. “That’s not her responsibility.” After a slight pause, she said more calmly, “If you have other commitments, darling, just say so. I only feel badly for everyone having to listen to my baby acting up. I’m sure she’s upsetting the other animals, too.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to claim that he was due back in court too soon to do that for her, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. The whole purpose of returning here was to make his mother’s life as stress-free as possible.
“Judy’s taking her lunch at the moment,” he said. “But she’ll be back in about thirty minutes. I can go then.”
“Bless you, darling. You’re the best child a mother could hope for.”
“Give me a compliment that bears repeating,” he replied drolly. “Everyone here knows I’m an only child and that you have nothing to compare me with.”
At least when he hung up, she was laughing.
* * *
When Noah pulled up to the clinic, it wasn’t yet one o’clock and the closed-for-lunch sign was still on the door, although Noah could see the old-timers sitting around their table. He wondered if they ever went home. Or was there anyone at home to go to? He had noticed pockets of seniors around Rusk, too, who collected wherever they weren’t in the way yet could get out of the heat or cold, depending on the season. Loneliness and old age weren’t necessarily synonymous—he knew plenty of senior citizens living full, active lives—but apparently something was going on. It was good of Gage Sullivan to allow the guys to hang out here.
One of the seniors spotted him and pointed around the building toward the back.
Hoping he understood correctly, Noah drove that way, only to utter a soft, “Whoa.”
He’d heard that Rylie Quinn was living in a camper in the back of the clinic, but what was parked ahead of him wasn’t just an RV. It was one of those monster coach things that well-to-do traveling retirees and touring rock stars used. Didn’t those things come with a hefty price tag? It seemed a lot of vehicle for a woman only in her mid-twenties. Grooming dogs was apparently more lucrative than he’d first thought.
As he exited his BMW, he gave the two-tone bronze machine a once-over from behind his sunglasses. This was a model where both sides could extend out from the main structure for extra sleeping and dining space, converting it into a virtual house on wheels. The size of the thing also had him wondering who else might be in there. A boyfriend? Husband? Rylie didn’t wear a ring. Come to think of it, she didn’t seem to wear any jewelry at all. Interesting bit of trivia for such a lively, even flamboyant, person.
Before he could knock, the door opened, and he looked up into Rylie’s smiling face. A determined smile, he noted.
“Hey there. Twice in one day—my cup runneth over. I guess your mom managed to twist your arm? When I called her and learned that Ramon was being held hostage at the dealership, I offered to bring Bubbles to her, but she said you would be happy to do it.” Upon seeing Noah narrow his eyes, she threw back her head and laughed with delight. “Oh, how funny! She conned you.”
“So it would seem,” he muttered. The why bothered him, too. His mother hadn’t met Rylie, so she had better not be getting any ideas about matchmaking.
“Come on in, you poor oppressed soul. I was having lunch here to let Bubbles have more space, and so the old-timers could hear each other talk. For a little thing, she does have powerful lungs.”
After