old ranch work truck in front of the café and raised an eyebrow when Rye brought his truck to a stop. He had a cigarette smoked down to the stub and put it out on the heel of his boot when Rye parked beside him.
“How did it go? I was about to give up on you. Guess you liked what you saw if you got all cleaned up just to meet her. What are you grinning at? I washed my face and hands with one of them wet wipe things Malee uses on the boys. Do I still have dirt on my nose or something?” Kent asked.
“Your face is clean and everything at the river went just like Granny Lanier wanted it. Pearlita brought the ashes and Austin scattered them in the river.”
“She see you?”
“Who? Granny or Austin?”
“Either one,” Kent answered.
“Austin didn’t. Granny probably did and is laughing.”
“What’d she look like?” Kent asked.
“You’ve seen her pictures.” Rye couldn’t think of a damn thing to erase the silly grin from his face.
“That’s not what I asked. A picture is just a likeness. Real people have dimension. Why are you smiling like that? What’s the matter with me?”
Rye poked him on the shoulder. “Nothing is the matter with you. Dimension? I didn’t know you knew ten-dollar words.”
“You are avoidin’ a simple question and you got all spruced up which means you liked what you saw.”
“Let’s go eat some fish. I’m starving,” Rye said.
The restaurant was packed full of people. He and Kent walked past the U-shaped cashier’s bar and through a door into the dining room on the north side. The noise of several conversations and the smell of frying fish filled the place. They settled into chairs at the table beside the last booth on the west side.
“You look like you put in a morning. What can I get you?” the waitress asked. Her face looked like the bottom of a dried up creek bed after a drought, but her green eyes were bright and sparkling.
Rye removed his cowboy hat and hung it on the back of his chair. He’d seen Austin when he first walked in the place and was glad that there was a table close by her booth. Damn she was even more beautiful up close. He should’ve introduced himself right away but he couldn’t force words out of his mouth.
“It’s been more than just a morning,” Kent said.
“What’s done got you two all in a tizz?” Pearlita asked.
Rye looked at Pearlita but his eyes were on Austin. “Well, I’ll be danged. I didn’t recognize you without your hat and boots.”
Pearlita stuck out a foot. “Look more familiar now?”
“Yes, ma’am, you surely do. And you are Austin?” Rye stood up and extended his hand. “I’m Rye O’Donnell.”
Austin was struck mute. That couldn’t be Rye. The Rye she expected was at least seventy years old. She’d talked to him every week on Thursday for the past six months. Well, almost every Thursday. A couple of times he wasn’t home on Thursday night and at least twice she had to be out of town on business, but they’d talked and he was supposed to be old. Granny had said he was her good friend and a little younger than she was. Hell’s bells, that didn’t mean early thirties and it didn’t mean sexy cowboy handsome.
She put her hand in his and pure old sexual heat created sparks that danced around the café. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”
“Yes, it is.” Rye held her hand a few seconds longer, brushing her palm with his thumb and squeezing just a little bit, unconsciously wanting to take her home with him and never let her out of his sight. “I guess you took care of the burial this morning?”
“We did,” Pearlita said. “I’ll never understand why she wanted it done on Friday before Easter but we did it the way she wanted.”
“She’d be pleased.” Rye sat back down at his table, not three feet from Austin. He knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop and he couldn’t think of a thing to say. On Thursday nights they’d talked for ten or fifteen minutes and he’d never had a problem with words. But sitting so close he could reach and push that errant strand of dark hair back, his mouth was so dry that he felt like he’d eaten a sawdust sandwich laced with alum. His palms were clammy and he was damn sure glad he was sitting down or his