Sweet Olive (9780310330554) Read Free Page B

disappointed you didn’t make it.”
    “Hi, Val.” Marsh repeated the quick kiss her father had given her. “Duty calls and all that …”
    “Oh, don’t give me that ‘I’m too busy’ speech,” Valerie said, a hint of a pout on her mouth. Then she smiled and swirled her chiffon skirt. “Your mom helped me pick out this outfit. She knows you’ve always liked me in orange.”
    “Very nice,” he said.
    Camille’s morale drooped, although she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Marsh and Miss Louisiana seemed to be in some sort of a relationship.
    Wearing the smile of a proud father, Slattery put his hand on Camille’s shoulder.
    “Camille, meet the woman who keeps me on track—as long as I don’t complain about the cost.” He gave a hearty laugh, joined by the men nearest him. Marsh’s expression was unreadable. “My daughter, Valerie, gets the credit for putting tonight’s function together.”
    “All while working on her tan,” Ginny said in a low voice.
    Camille bit back a smile at the snarky comment and stepped forward, her hand extended. “Thank you for handling the details.” She refrained from mentioning that the fund-raiser had been her idea.
    Valerie brushed her fingers against Camille’s with the quick flutter of a hummingbird in flight. The gesture came with a restrained
thank you.
“You must be new to Samford.”
    She inspected Camille from head to toe, the way one might consider a cow about to be bought—or passed over—at a West Texas auction. “Are you visiting someone?” Valerie looked around the room as though hoping someone might step forward and claim Camille.
    Slattery’s face was rapidly approaching the color of the glass of red wine he now held, and he took a hurried gulp before hespoke. “Honey, I thought you knew.” His volume brought stares from guests around the room. “Camille’s our guest of honor.”
    Valerie flipped her hair back, the blond strands settling into place as she gave a light stamp of her foot. “What are you going on about now, Daddy?”
    “Valerie! Camille is Scott Stephens’s right-hand man—or person or whatever.” He patted the sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief. “J&S sent her in from the Houston headquarters.”
    “They
transferred
someone in from Houston?” Valerie threw Marsh an injured look. “Were you in on this?”
    He gave his head a quick shake, his eyes on Camille.
    Valerie put a proprietary hand on his arm. “Of course you weren’t. You want to settle this deal as much as we do.”
    Ginny adjusted her glasses. “My, my. J&S is full of surprises.” She ran blue-painted fingernails through her brown hair, as wild as Valerie’s was styled. “So you’re the one who charms landowners. The people over in Fort Worth told me about you.”
    Valerie’s attention whirled to Ginny. “If you had signed when you should have, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” She wore the look of an angry dog straining at its chain. “You and that group of Sweet Olive hillbillies ruined everything.”
    Camille opened her mouth to respond, but Ginny beat her to it.
    “You’re wrong, Valerie.” Ginny shook her head, her long, curly hair swishing back and forth. Beaded earrings reached nearly to her shoulders and bounced with the movement of her head. “It’s J&S who will ruin everything.”
    “Ladies,” Marsh jumped in. “You don’t want to do this.” His lips were set in a grim line.
    Valerie cast a bold, hostile look around the room. Her gaze stopped before it reached Camille.
    “Sorry, Marsh.” Ginny fidgeted with a wide plastic bracelet. “The artists will have plenty of opportunities to talk about this.”
    “You can only drag your heels so long,” Valerie snarled, the leash on her temper apparently having snapped.
    “J&S isn’t the only company interested in us.” Ginny narrowed her eyes.
    “Val, Ginny.” Marsh’s tone grew ominous.
    Guests across the room stared, their eyes wide. Slattery looked like a man