Sherryl Woods - Ask Anyone

“You know, Anna-Louise, for a woman as well-versed as you are in God’s word, you have a nasty habit of forgetting all about it when it suits you,” he’d charged.

She’d leveled a look at him that would have wilted a lesser man. “Oh?”

“Whatever happened to honoring thy father? Isn’t that one of the Ten Commandments?”

“It is,” she’d agreed.

“Well?”

“I’m not sure of the relevance,” she’d said, then reached into the car to pat the hand clenching the steering wheel. “King, I really don’t think this horse has anything to do with you. Believe it or not, it’s Bobby’s problem, not yours.”

“He’s my son, dammit. What he does reflects on me.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” Anna-Louise had snapped impatiently, “he’s not the one who put the horse here. In fact, from what he said to Richard, I gather that he’s every bit as anxious as you are to make it go away. Now either go inside to lend him your support or go on home and sulk.”

King had gone home to sulk. He’d spent the whole evening trying to figure out why everyone—himself included—was so stirred up. It was an awful lot of hoopla over one itty-bitty piece of a kid’s amusement-park ride. Anna-Louise was right about one thing. The whole situation would be over with and forgotten in no time. He just had to go about his business and ignore it.

Which was why he was in his regular booth at Earlene’s awaiting the arrival of his friends. A rousing conversation about the price of beef would get his juices stirring.

Pete Dexter was the first to arrive. “Oh, boy,” he murmured with a shake of his head as he slid in opposite King. “Bobby’s gone and stepped in it now.”

King regarded him with a lofty look. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Harvey’s out for blood. He claims Bobby is trying to stage a coup and take over the whole blessed town.”

King gritted his teeth. So he wasn’t going to be able to ignore this after all. “Where would he get a numbskull idea like that? Bobby’s not interested in taking over anything. That boy doesn’t have a political bone in his body.”

“Then why did he go and buy up all that property? Whoever develops it is going to set the direction of Trinity Harbor for decades to come. And Harvey’s bound and determined that it’s not going to be your son. He says Spencers have been in charge for too long as it is, that it’s time for fresh blood to take this town into the future.”

King clung to his temper by a thread. “Just how does that pompous fool propose to stop Bobby?”

“The way I hear it, he’ll tie him up with zoning regulations and red tape until Bobby gives up and walks away from the whole deal. Then I imagine he’ll try to snap up that land for a pittance and do whatever he wants with it. You ask Will what he thinks when he gets here. I heard a rumor he sold a couple of parcels to the mayor a while back before Bobby could snap ’em up. My guess is Harvey would like to see condos all along the waterfront. Next thing you know, none of us will be able to stick a toe in that river without being charged with trespassing.”

King stared at his oldest friend. “Harvey told you this?”

“Not about the condos, that’s Will’s idea. But Harvey told a whole roomful of people about the rest at lunch yesterday. I was eating crabs over at Wilkerson’s at Colonial Beach. Harvey was holding forth like a preacher. He was talking so loud and his face was so red, I thought he was going to keel right over onto the seafood buffet.”

“Did you set him straight?” King asked.

“Me?” Pete looked baffled. “What was I supposed to say?”

“That no son of King Spencer’s would ever walk away from a fight, for starters,” King declared fiercely. He might not be entirely in tune with Bobby’s plans, but no upstart like Harvey Needham was going to sabotage them. “Did you tell him that?”

“No,” Pete admitted.

“Then you’re as big a damned fool as he is,” King said, sliding out of the booth and tossing some money on the table for the coffee he’d never touched.

“Now, King—” Pete began.

“Don’t you try to placate me, you old coot. I thought loyalty still counted for something in this town. Guess I was wrong.”

He stalked off to the sound of Pete’s sputters of protest and the hushed whispers of everyone else in Earlene’s. The way things were going, the entire conversation would be reported in The Weeky, right alongside that spread of pictures Richard had taken over at Bobby’s.

Once King got outside in the hot, muggy morning air, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He was going to kill that boy of his with his bare hands. He didn’t have time to waste an entire morning on this kind of nonsense. He needed to get home. Somebody had to run that Black Angus operation that his sons didn’t give a hoot about.

But first, maybe he’d go on over to the Social Services office and see if Frances could spare him a little time. The woman had been driving him up the wall since she’d stolen first place in a spelling bee from him a half-century ago, but she had a level head on her shoulders. In the last year, he’d begun to count on that.

Frances had kept him from strangling Daisy and given him some sound advice and pleasant company along the way. Maybe if he offered to take her out to play bingo tomorrow night, she’d keep his mind off of Bobby until his temper cooled down. The last place King wanted to spend his golden years was a jail cell. And Tucker would slap him in one, no question about it. He didn’t bend the rules for anybody.

When King arrived at Social Services, Frances was on the phone. The blessed woman was always on the phone, but he’d finally learned better than to try to interrupt her. She got downright feisty. He sat down and waited with what to him passed for patience. Fortunately, Frances didn’t test him beyond his limits.

“I imagine you’re here to talk about Bobby,” she said with a resigned expression when she’d finally hung up.

“You heard,” he said bleakly.

“Not only heard, I went by there yesterday. It was quite a scene.” A wistful look passed across her face. “Seeing that carousel horse took me straight back to when we were kids. Remember? We used to have a carousel right here in town. And a skating rink, miniature golf and bingo on the boardwalk. I wish we could have all that back again. Kids need to know there’s more to life than video games and computers.”

King had a dim recollection of those days, but bingo and an old carousel were the least of his concerns. He sighed and regarded Frances with a plaintive look. “What am I supposed to do about all this nonsense Bobby’s mixed up in?”

“Nothing,” she said emphatically. “I know that goes against your nature, but Bobby can handle whatever’s going on. Besides, I don’t know what you’re so upset about. I thought you’d be pleased as punch.”

King stared at her. “Pleased? Why the devil would I be pleased?”

“Because the way I hear it, the woman responsible for that horse turning up on Bobby’s lawn is gorgeous and single. She’s from a good family. Of course, she’s from Maryland, not Virginia, but you can’t afford to be picky if you want him to start providing you with some grandchildren to dote on. On top of that, she’s already proved that she knows how to get Bobby’s attention.”

That certainly put a new spin on things, King decided thoughtfully. “Gorgeous, you say?”

“Yep, and a redhead,” Frances confirmed. “I ran into Tucker later in the day and he said Bobby’s tongue was just about hanging out. He also said Bobby would probably deny that with his dying breath.”

King’s spirits brightened considerably. “Is that so?” An idea popped into his head, one that required immediate action. He jumped up and headed for the door.