“If you’ll pardon me for saying so, you’d notice one of the mares limping at a hundred yards before you’d see a man making eyes at you at arm’s length.”
“I noticed Mr. Pye,” she said dryly. “I didn’t like it.”
Mrs. Lancaster snorted derisively. “Not the kind of eyes I’m talking about. I saw how he looked at you and you were smart to keep him at a distance. That man had no good thinking on his mind, and I’m not talking about his thievery.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me about that?”
“Because you kept him in your sights all the time you were avoiding him. I figured you for handling him on your own.”
“I don’t know, Mrs. Lancaster, you made a point of telling me you don’t like the way I’m sitting in this chair and yet you kept your counsel about Josey Pye. That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me.”
“I’m talking about agoodman making eyes at you. And forget about the darn chair. That ain’t what’s important. As for Josey Pye, anyone could see the man was so bent, he could swallow nails and spit out corkscrews.”
“I didn’t seethat,” said Laurel. “I wouldn’t have hired him if I’d seen that.”
“Well, maybe I didn’t either, truth be told,” Mrs. Lancaster admitted grudgingly.
“And Jelly’s a child, so why you think I should have noticed him right off, I don’t know. I think it’s better that I didn’t.”
Exasperated, the cook huffed. “I ain’t talking about Jelly.” She tapped her long-handled wooden spoon against the table. Every beat was a staccato, a snap to attention. “I’m. Talking. About. McCall. Landry.”
Laurel’s eyebrows rose. She held her tongue for a long moment, collecting herself. Keeping her voice neutral, she said carefully, “You think Mr. Landry likes me?”
“That’s what I’m saying.” She thumped the spoon againfor emphasis. “You should do something about it, Miss Laurel.”
Laurel could have told the cook that she already had, but she realized she wanted to keep it to herself for a while longer. “Like what?” she asked.
“Like making an effort to smile more when he’s around.”
“I smile.”
“When he’s around,” Mrs. Lancaster repeated. “You gotta do it when he’s around and it’s got to be for him. It’s no good when you only smile at Rooster and the brothers and leave him out. I got eyes in my head. I see how it is at the table. He looks at you and you look everywhere else. That’s not encouraging. You’re a ripe piece of fruit, Miss Laurel, and maybe it’s time for you to think about getting plucked.”
Laurel frowned deeply. “What did you say?”
“I saidplucked.” She made disapproving noises. “As if I’d ever say the other. What gets into your mind, I’ll never know.”
Laurel knew exactly what had gotten into her mind. She had been well and truly plucked last night. There was no chance of her withering on the vine now. “I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Well, while you’re thinking about that, maybe you should consider saying his name. There’s Rooster, Hank, Dillon, and now Jelly, buthe’sMr. Landry.”
“You’re Mrs. Lancaster.”
The cook gave Laurel a smart tap on the forearm with her spoon. “That’s not the same. Not the same at all and you know it.”
Laurel removed her arms from the tabletop and eyed the cook’s spoon warily. “That stung.”
“It was supposed to. It was supposed to wake you up.”
“I’m awake. I swear to you that I’m awake.”
“Prove it.”
Laurel didn’t hear a challenge in the older woman’s words. Mrs. Lancaster said the words gently. It was howLaurel imagined her mother would have spoken to her. “Mr. Landry—Call—is just passing through,” she said, adopting the cook’s quiet tone. “When this business with the stolen payroll is concluded, he’ll be on his way.”
“Maybe so, maybe not. I’m not as certain of that as you seem to be. He talks like he’d want to stick, at least that’s what I hear him saying. Look, Miss Laurel, I don’t want to see you get your heart broken, but maybe you should test the waters.”
Laurel chuckled humorlessly. “I tested the waters yesterday and you know what happened. I found Mr. Pye.”
