Blame It On Texas Read Free

lot.”
    “Good for you. That’s how folks are supposed to get money. By earning it, just the way you did.” She watched him beam with pride. He was going to be a handsome boy, probably on the small side, though his father was tall and lean. They both shared dark straight hair and brown eyes. Handsome devils, the two of them, with identical dimples in the center of their chins. That Dustin could have his pick of the women in the county, she was sure, but he didn’t mind her teasing him about it.
    Gert liked teasing. Her Edwin never minded a good joke, laughed even harder when the joke was on him. That was a good quality in a man.
    “I should write a book,” she said, taking a sip of the juice when the boy did. “Those other old ladies did real well with theirs. Maybe there’s a market for memoirs.”
    “Memoirs,” the child repeated, trying out the unfamiliar word.
    “Memoirs. That’s like memories,” she said. “The story of somebody’s life. I’ve had a pretty interesting life, I think.” Or maybe not. Maybe nothing special to anyone else, but she was partial to it.
    “I could spice it up a bit,” she thought aloud. “Add some old lady wisdom, too. Folks like that,at least in books.” But not in person. Martha didn’t take too kindly to advice lately, despite her carrying on with the Jackson fella and talking about “villas” and “central vacuuming,” whatever that was. Meant you didn’t have to sweep anymore, Gert supposed.
    “Sweeping’s good exercise,” she told the boy, who didn’t seem to mind the change in subject.
    “You want me to get the broom?”
    “No, thank you. Not on Sunday. We’re not doing chores on Sunday.”
    “Oh.” He looked down at his juice glass, then back at her. “Dad’s doing chores.”
    “Well, that’s because your daddy’s a hard worker and likes to get things done.”
    “Yep.”
    “What’d he want on the phone?”
    “Just to check to see if we were okay.”
    “Well,” Gert said, looking around her old kitchen with its worn linoleum and scarred cabinets, “I think we’re doing just fine, don’t you?”
    Danny’s dark eyebrows rose. “That’s what daddy says all the time.” He lowered his voice and repeated, imitating his young, serious father. “I think we’re doin’ just fine.”
    Gert couldn’t help chuckling. “Well, we are. I don’t know why everybody worries so much.”
    The boy shrugged. “Me neither. You want some more juice?”
    “No, thanks. But you help yourself. And there’s more biscuits in the bread box over there.”
    “Okay.”
    Gert watched him, just for the pleasure of it. It was sure nice to have a youngster around to talk to. To have anyone to talk to, though Danny’s father wasn’t much for chitchat. She squinted at the clock over the refrigerator. Kate would call today, and she’d be coming home soon for the party.
    Maybe she would start writing that book this week so she could surprise her granddaughter with Chapter One.

CHAPTER TWO
    “M Y DAUGHTER WANTS me to move in to one of those things with her,” Gert declared as they drove past the sign announcing the site of the Good Night Villas.
    “I guess no one can force you,” Dustin said, slowing down the truck so Mrs. Knepper could get a good look. She’d insisted on coming here first, to see for herself the latest change in the town. “Can they?”
    “I sure hope not.”
    “You want me to stop?”
    “I sure do.”
    “Cool,” Danny said, tucked in the narrow length of seat behind them. “I like this.”
    “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” Dustin wasn’t at all sure why he was driving around Beauville on a Monday morning when there was all sorts of work to be done on the ranch, but she was the boss and so here he was on the north edge of town looking at a drive-in where he’d spent a lotof nights panting after Kate McIntosh. Maybe the fascination with drive-ins ran in the family.
    He pulled into a dirt area alongside the road, but kept