From Glowing Embers Read Free Page B

of the tub into one with clean water in it. “You’re not the only dog in Granger Junction who’s gonna be miserable today.”
    The little Chihuahua looked at Julie Ann with eyes so mournful it was clear he thought the news was no comfort.
    “Come on, Pedro. You don’t really mind so much, do you? Right now you’re the cleanest little hot dog in town. All the little girl dogs’ll roll their eyes in your direction. I’ll even shine up your tags.” Julie Ann lifted the dog from the rinse water and wrapped him in a thick bath towel. “Cuddle up in this for a little while, buddy. Then I’ll dry you with the blower and comb up what fur you have real nice.”
    “Do they ever bite?”
    Startled, Julie Ann looked up to see a young man standing in the doorway, a white poodle squirming under each arm. She squinted nearsightedly at him, and for a moment she didn’t know who he was. “Hardly ever if I talk to them. Are the twins there my rush job?”
    He nodded. “I can see where talking to them would help. You have a beautiful voice.”
    Julie Ann blushed all the way down to her toenails. In her world compliments were so rare as to be almost nonexistent. And male compliments were unheard of. “Well, it’s a voice dogs like,” she joked self-consciously.
    “It’s a voice men like, too. I can guarantee it.”
    She squinted as the man moved closer and came into focus. Her face registered her surprise as she recognized him. The man was Granger Sheridan, Gray to his friends—or so she’d heard. She wasn’t one of the blessed herself, but she knew about Granger. She knew about all the Sheridans. One of them, Granger’s father, had put her daddy in jail.
    “So what’s the rush with the dogs?” she asked, rubbing the Chihuahua so hard he yipped in protest.
    Granger set the poodles down to explore the floor while he stood at the end of the table and watched her work. “The little darlings got outside and rolled in something they weren’t supposed to. I hosed them off, but my mother says it wasn’t good enough. They still stink, and she’s having a bridge party at two.”
    “My, my, we can’t let them spoil the party.”
    “Do I know you?”
    Julie Ann lifted her head and met his eyes for a moment. “I doubt it.”
    “You look familiar.”
    “We haven’t met, but I know you’re Granger Sheridan. I’m Julie Ann Mason.”
    “Call me Gray. You still look familiar.”
    “You went to school with a sister of mine. We look alike.”
    “Did she have a name?”
    “Mary Jane.”
    Julie Ann turned her attention back to Pedro and unwrapped the towel. She held the little dog with one hand as she turned on the blow-dryer, checking the temperature to be sure it was low enough.
    “I remember Mary Jane.”
    Julie Ann imagined that he did. Probably every boy at Junction High remembered Mary Jane. She had slept with most of them, or so the story went. Julie Ann wondered if Gray Sheridan had been one of Mary Jane’s back seat tussles.
    “So you’re one of the Mason kids,” he said.
    “One of them,” Julie Ann acknowledged. There was a lot more she could say, but she didn’t expect that Gray Sheridan would believe any of it, or care.
    She was one of the Mason kids. One of six. Most of the time that was all she had to tell anybody for them to form an instant, unshakable opinion about her worth. The Masons were poor white trash. Everybody knew it; everybody laughed about it. There was no good in the Mason family. Being born into it was like being born under a curse.
    Julie Ann’s father had been a drunk. In Mississippi there was no such thing as a white trash alcoholic. Among the wealthy, alcoholism was considered a disease to be treated, but in the Masons’ social stratum, anyone who drank too much was a drunk, a pariah beyond help.
    Willie Mason had never held a real job. The only times he had ever approached employment were when he took on an odd job or two to earn a drink. He’d been hauling trash for a local