“Had more than my fair share this morning. And I’ve got to get to the office anyway. I only had a dental cleaning on the books until this afternoon, so I was able to get some other business out of the way.” George wasn’t the only dentist in town, much to his chagrin. “I stopped by Alex Winger’s shop because he’s always produced signs in less than three days. But he flat out refused to make our signs. Not for the front yards, the street corners or the store windows.”
Jack frowned. “Why on earth not? Wades have thrown business his way for years. He did all the signage for the saloon and for the newspaper when my dad owned it.”
“Yeah, well, turns out he’s producing all the signage for the incumbents, including your uncle.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. “Finds it a conflict of interest, does he?”
“Apparently so. And he wasn’t the least bit shy about rehashing the scene your father created when he went off about your mother’s affair. Seems he doesn’t want to see another Wade with that much influence in the community.” George sighed. “No offense.”
“None taken,” Jack said, though his nose was a bit bent. “I warned you I had plenty of opposition.”
“This is ridiculous.” George said. “At any rate, I went directly to Paul Lawyer and he said he absolutely could do it. But it’ll take two weeks. He’s been taking orders from Austin and he’s backlogged. Although,” George added, brightening at what was obviously a new idea. “We could go to Austin and find someone who can meet our timeframe. Either there or San Antonio.”
“No,” Jack said with the shake of his head. “Let’s keep the business here in town. Folks need it.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “Good thinking.”
Setting aside the knife he was using to slice limes, Jack washed his hands and then reached for a towel. “Be prepared for more push-back. I had a message on the machine this morning from Myra Brighton.”
He’d been hoping it was Liza calling. She hadn’t stopped by the bar last night so, in turn, he hadn’t stopped by her cottage. There’d been a strange air between them following his tell-all in her bathroom and he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed from here.
As much as Jack wanted to see her—and God, how his body had ached for her last night!—he’d decided to back off. Let things simmer. They’d gotten off to a hot-’n-heavy start and maybe that hadn’t been wise. Not when all this other mayhem was brewing. He didn’t want her caught in the middle, though he sensed it was too late to keep that from happening.
His own doing, which made him want to kick something. Maybe himself.
“What’d Myra have to say?” George asked, drawing his attention.
“Something along the lines of ‘how dare you try to unseat an incumbent? This town has a tradition. It’s always been run by the Brightons and the Parsons and the Bains of Wilder, not the Wades’. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Crazy old bat,” George muttered. “Well, it’s time to break tradition.”
The sentiment still lingered in the air as Lydia Bain came through the door. George glanced at her over his shoulder, then turned back to Jack. “That’s my exit cue. I’ve got to get to the office anyway. We’ll talk later.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.”
He greeted Lydia politely as they passed. She approached the bar as though it were a confessional and she was debating over which sins to spill.
“Pull up a stool,” Jack said. He poured her a glass of ice water. “Don’t think you’ve ever been in here.”
“No, I guess not.”
Funny, considering they’d always been the best of friends. He set the glass before her and asked, “To what do I owe the honor?” Though he already knew, making his words more mocking than complimentary.
She set her purse on the bar and took a sip of water. Then she said, “I came for a favor.”
“All right.” He was never above offering his help to a friend in need. Provided it was a reasonable request. He had his doubts about this one.
“It’s Jonathan, Jack. He’s just beside himself with…everything. You running around town with this woman who dresses like, I don’t know, she should be in a New York City nightclub or a music video. And this bid for a seat on the City Council. Jack…” She stared at him, her light brown eyes imploring him to roll over and play dead.
Jack fought his mounting temper. “First,” he said as he went back to slicing limes, only to completely mutilate the first few. He set the knife aside once more. Safer that way. “Who I see is my business. Even if we’re in public. And I happen to like Liza, so you’re gonna have to get over it and give her a chance.”
“Jack, she doesn’t fit in here.”
“Why, because she doesn’t dress like you and your friends, Lydia?”
She huffed. Her mouth worked like a fish trying to spit out a hook. Eventually, she found her ground and said, “Jack Wade. The last thing this town needs is more controversy.”