"Yeah, well, you thought Lucy was rah-ther splendid, too, and look how that turned out."
"Lucy is wonderful. But not for Ted. They're too much alike. I'm surprised we didn't see that as clearly as Meg did. Right from the beginning, she's fit in here in ways Lucy could never quite manage."
"Because Lucy's too levelheaded. And we both know that 'fitting in' isn't exactly a compliment when you're talking about Wynette."
"But when we're talking about our son, it's essential."
Maybe she was right. Maybe Ted was in love with Meg. Dallie had thought so, but then he'd changed his mind when Ted had let her go as easily as he'd let Lucy go. Francie seemed sure, but she wanted grandbabies so much that she wasn't objective. "You should have just given the library committee the money right from the beginning," he said.
"You and I talked about that."
"I know." Experience had taught them that a few families, no matter how well off, couldn't support a town. They'd learned to pick their causes, and this year, the expansion of the free clinic had won out over the library repairs.
"It's only money," said the woman who'd once lived on a jar of peanut butter and slept on the couch of a five-hundred-watt radio station in the middle of nowhere. "I don't really need a new winter wardrobe. What I need is to have our son back."
"He hasn't gone anywhere."
"Don't pretend not to understand. More than losing the golf resort is bothering Ted."
"We don't know that for sure, since he won't talk to any of us about it. Even Lady Emma can't get him to open up. And forget about Torie. He's been dodging her for weeks."
"He's a private person."
"Exactly. And when he discovers what you've done, you're on your own, because I'm going to be conveniently out of town."
"I'm willing to take that risk," she said.
It wasn't the first risk she'd taken for their son, and since it was easier to kiss her than argue, he gave up.
Francesca had an immediate problem. The committee had used the e-mail address Francesca had established in Meg's name to notify her she'd won, which left Francesca with the job of locating her to deliver the news. But since Meg seemed to have disappeared, Francesca was forced to contact the Korandas.
She'd interviewed Jake twice in the past fifteen years, something of a record, given his obsession with privacy. His reticence made him a difficult interview subject, but off camera, he had a quick sense of humor and was easy to talk to. She didn't know his wife as well, but Fleur Koranda had a reputation for being tough, smart, and completely ethical. Unfortunately, the Korandas' brief, awkward visit to Wynette hadn't given either Francesca or Dallie a chance to deepen their acquaintance.
Fleur was cordial, but guarded, when Francesca phoned her office. Francesca patched together a cobbled version of something approximating the truth, leaving out only a few inconvenient details, such as her part in all this. She spoke of her admiration for Meg and her conviction that Meg and Ted cared deeply about each other.
"I'm absolutely certain, Fleur, that spending a weekend together in San Francisco will give them the chance they need to reconnect and repair their relationship."
Fleur was no fool, and she zeroed in on the obvious. "Meg doesn't have nearly enough money to have placed that bid."
"Which makes this situation all the more tantalizing, doesn't it?"
A short pause followed. Finally, Fleur said, "You think Ted is responsible?"
Francesca wouldn't lie, but neither did she intend to confess what she'd done. "There's been a lot of speculation in town about that. You can't imagine the theories I've heard." She hurried on. "I won't pressure you for Meg's telephone number . . ." She paused, hoping Fleur would volunteer to hand it over. When she didn't, she pressed on. "Let's do this. I'll make sure the itinerary for the weekend is sent directly to you, along with Meg's round-trip plane ticket from L.A. to San Francisco. The committee had planned on using a private jet to fly them both from Wynette, but given the circumstances, this seems like a better solution. Do you agree?"
She held her breath, but instead of answering, Fleur said, "Tell me about your son."
Francesca leaned back in her chair and gazed at the snapshot of Teddy she'd taken when he was nine. Head too big for his small, skinny body. Pants belted too high on his waist. The too-serious expression on his face at odds with his worn T-shirt, which announced born to raise hell.
She picked up the photo. "The day Meg left Wynette, she went to our local hangout and told everyone that Ted's not perfect." Her eyes filled with tears she didn't try to blink away. "I disagree."