Suddenly the idea that Arizona was a long way away from both Chicago and Hot Springs, Arkansas, held some appeal for Joanna Brady. Good, she found herself thinking. Let’s keep it that way.
“So how do you like being sheriff?” Maggie Dixon continued without bothering to wait for an answer. “That sounds like a difficult job for a woman. And isn’t it dangerous?”
“At times, it’s a difficult job for anyone-man or woman,” Joanna replied. “And yes, it can be dangerous, but that can also be true of any job. You have to keep your wits about you.”
“Well,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “From what Butch writes about you and says on the phone, I can tell he’s very proud of you. But you won’t keep doing this, will you-I mean after you’re married?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, you know how it is. It’s the man’s job to support his family. And then, if you got pregnant…”
Butch got up abruptly. “I think I’ll go see if Eleanor needs any help,” he said, leaving the battle of the picnic table under Joanna’s sole direction.
Maggie turned and watched him go. “Now I suppose my son will be mad at me,” she mused. “He’s always accusing me of being nosy. But these are the kinds of things people need to talk about before they get married, not after. And I’m sure that’s the mistake Butch made before-the other times he got married. He went into those relationships with no idea at all of what he really wanted. Of course, the first time, he and Debbie were both much too young. And with Faith, I don’t think either one of them thought ahead very much, either. Faith’s a very nice girl,” Maggie added. “We still stay in touch from time to time. I’m sure you’d like her. She and her husband just had their second child-a little boy. I meant to mention that to Butch.”
Months earlier, about the time Butch had asked Joanna to marry him, he had told her about his first two marriages and what had happened to them. She remembered all too well Butch relating the tale of his bitter divorce from a woman named Faith who had taken him to the cleaners both financially and emotionally as she abandoned ship in order to marry her husband’s soon-to-be-former best friend.
Don’t bother telling him, Joanna thought. That’s the last thing he needs to know!
“Well?” Maggie asked. “Are you?”
Her tone implied that there was an unanswered question lingering in the air, one Joanna had somehow failed to hear.
“Am I what?” Joanna returned.
“Are you and Butch planning on having kids?” Maggie prodded. “The magazines are always filled with articles about women and their ticking biological clocks, but I think men’s do, too. And at Butch’s age-”
“Come and get it while it’s hot,” George Winfield announced as he walked by the table carrying a platter piled high with strips of broiled flank steak. “We’re serving this buffet-style,” he added. “Come into the kitchen and fill your plates. Those who want to can come back outside to eat.”
“Let me give you a hand, Maggie,” Don Dixon said, stopping by the table to help his wife rise from the picnic bench. While Don led Maggie into the house, Eva Lou stood up and wordlessly gave Joanna a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as she walked by. Meanwhile, a stunned Joanna stayed where she was. With a last flourish of trumpets, the mariachi music faded to nothing and the boom box clicked off, leaving the backyard in welcome silence.
“Are you all right?” Butch whispered near her ear a few moments later. “Would you like something to drink?”
Joanna shook her head. “I don’t think George and Eleanor have anything strong enough,” she returned.
Butch shook his head. “I can’t believe she said that-the third one’s the charm. She’s something else, isn’t she?” he added. “It’s like that old saying about how absence makes the heart grow fonder. When I’m not around her, I always end up convincing myself that my mother can’t possibly be as bad as I remember. Then, once we get within shouting distance of one another, it all comes back to me. Believe me, it’s no accident my grandparents wound up retiring to Sun City. I’m pretty sure my stepgrandfather was looking for a way to get away from his stepdaughter. I don’t think he or Grandma were the least bit unhappy that Mother hated Arizona. It seemed to suit both of them just fine.”
“No wonder Eleanor doesn’t bother you,” Joanna said. “She may be a piker at times, but right now she seems mild by comparison.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along,” Butch said with a rueful grin. “I told you that you just didn’t know when you were well off.”
Jenny came to the back door and stuck her head outside. “Aren’t you two going to come inside and fill your plates?”
“In a minute,” Butch called back, then he turned to Joanna. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, really,” Joanna said. “Maggie takes some getting used to, is all. And how did we end up out here in the yard? Mother hates barbecuing and picnics and all the bugs that go with them. And she’s not that fond of Mexican food, either. That’s why I didn’t worry about not changing clothes. I figured we were in for one of Mother’s six-course sit-down extravaganzas.”
“That was before she caught sight of my mother’s hefty backside,” Butch said. “I think the thought of Mother sitting on one of Eleanor’s fine dining room chairs was enough to spark an instant change of menu and venue both. That’s also about the time Eleanor decided to invite Jim Bob and Eva Lou along for the ride. I think she hoped they’d serve as leavening agents, but when I met Eva Lou on her way inside a few minutes ago, even she looked like she’d had enough.”
“How do you tolerate her?” Joanna asked.
Butch shrugged. “I live in Arizona, and my parents live in Chicago,” he said. Behind them, Joanna heard the back door slam. “Here they come,” he added. “We’d better go fill our plates.”
By the time Joanna and Butch reached the head of the serving line, everyone but George Winfield had abandoned the kitchen in favor of outside dining. George stood at the counter dealing out plates loaded with meat, tortillas, and steaming, freshly made tamales.
“How are the love birds doing?” he asked, as Joanna and Butch paused by the counter and began dishing up condiments.
“Fine,” Butch and Joanna both said at once, then they burst out laughing.
“Sure you are,” George agreed. “For somebody getting the third degree, you’re both in great shape. Hey, would you two like to sit inside? My guess is the picnic table is already full to overflowing.”
It was true. Six was the maximum number of diners that could be accommodated at the wooden outdoor table. “But won’t Eleanor be pissed?” Joanna asked.
“Let her,” George said with a shrug. “After all, doing dinner this way was her bright idea. There’s no reason we should all have to suffer.”
In the end, the three of them settled at the kitchen table. The food was good. The tamales were thick and spicy. The tortillas were soft and see-through thin. And the strips of ancho-flavored steak had been grilled to spicy perfection. Until Joanna put the first bite of food in her mouth, she had no idea how hungry she was. For several minutes Butch, Joanna, and George ate in companionable silence.
“Your old friend Fran Daly was in town today,” George said at last when he paused from eating long enough to unwrap the corn husks from his tamale.
Dr. Daly was the assistant medical examiner in neighboring Pima County. In the course of the past few years she and Joanna had been involved in several different joint investigations. After a somewhat rocky start, the two women had come to have a good working relationship.