smudges of dirt on her shirt.
“Don’t worry about that. They’ll understand. Once they see this room, they’ll know
how hard you worked. Of course you couldn’t have done all this in your Sunday best!
And really, Liza. You saved me today.”
Her look was so sweet, so genuine, what was Liza to do?
“All right,” she acquiesced. “Let’s get these boxes out of here. Sean is serving the
ladies sparkling cider—his idea to buy me more time.”
“Clever,” she said.
“I really couldn’t have pulled this off without him.”
“Then I owe you both.”
“Hey, you employed me,” Liza reminded her. “That’s thanks enough.”
“But I didn’t realize I was hiring a miracle worker. Can I even afford you?” she
asked with a good-natured laugh.
“Whatever you think is fair is fine with me.”
Jess smiled as they shoved the empty boxes into the back of the van. “You’re a
Godsend, Liza. Truly.”
She got a little choked up by Jess’ frank tone and the sparkle in her hazel eyes. “Just glad I could help.”
Jess gave her a hug and Liza felt the tears sting her eyes. All this over a little
enhancement to a luncheon?
When Jess released her, she said, “I told George last night I had a good feeling
about you. I think you’re going to be good for this town, Liza.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said on a half-laugh. She was still feeling a little
emotional over Jess’ exuberance and gratitude. The culture at McClellan-Piper had not 153
Calista Fox
encouraged such demonstrative accolades. In fact, a simple pat on the back had been
hard to come by, no matter what rabbit one pulled from one’s hat in order to save the day.
“Well,” Jess said, still beaming. “Let’s go introduce you to the esteemed Junior
League. The crème-de-la-crème of Wilder Society,” she said in a mock-haughty tone, ala Lydia Bain, and a lift of her chin—and nose.
Liza couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve dealt with their kind before.”
“Some of them really are very nice,” she said, looking a little remorseful that she’d made fun of the ladies.
“Some?” Liza noted. “Well, I’ve spent enough time on Park Avenue. I think I can
handle it.”
“Oh I know you can.”
She linked arms with Liza as if they were the best of friends. Emotion welled within
her again. When was the last time she’d had a best friend? Grade school?
The thought saddened her and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes again.
“There must be a reason you ended up here in Wilder,” Jess mused.
Liza shrugged noncommittally. She recalled Jack’s comment her first night in town,
about Fate dealing unexpected hands, forcing you to hold them or fold them. “It’s all been a little strange, I’ll admit. Some highs. Some lows.” Small-town life was a bit
difficult to maneuver.
“Don’t let Lydia get to you,” Jess said. “Really. She’s just…protective.”
Of the town? Of Jack?
Thinking of the Devil in Blue Jeans, Liza wondered how he’d feel about her small
coup today. She had to admit, she wanted to impress him as much as Jess. Prove she
could make friends and fit in here.
But more importantly, it was a lesson she needed to prove to herself.
Pushing aside thoughts of Jack—because they’d lead to a wicked path she wasn’t in
the position to follow at the moment—she squared her shoulders and headed back into
the building.
“Showtime!” Jess whispered excitedly in her ear.
154
Devil in Texas
Chapter Fifteen
Liza heard Sean’s voice first.
“She just blew in here like a tornado and the next thing I knew, the whole place was
set up like we were expecting the Queen of England for lunch!”
Liza couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. And his kindness. He was certainly
paving the way for her with the Ladies Who Lunch.
“Well, where is she?” Liza heard a woman ask in a very thick southern drawl.
“Right here,” Jess said as they strolled into the cavernous main hall of the Lodge,
their arms still linked. Sean stood in the middle of a circle of thirteen women, ranging in age—Liza guessed—from late thirties to mid-eighties. “She was just double-checking all the arrangements.” Jess said that last word with a lilt in her voice, as though Liza had purposely planned a special gala event for these women.
She cringed a little. She hadn’t gone to that much trouble.
“Everyone,” Jess said as she presented Liza in formal fashion, “this is Liza Brooks.
She recently moved to Wilder and ya’ll can just eat your hearts out, because she’s
agreed to work for me!”
Liza actually blushed at how Jess fussed over her—as though these ladies might
actually fawn over her too. She’d already experienced enough cold shoulders to know
that wouldn’t be the case. But it was sweet of Jess to make such a big deal out of her.
A squat woman dressed to the nines—complete with a monstrosity of a pink straw
hat and matching satin bow that would’ve made Scarlet O’Hara jealous—stepped
forward and offered her white-gloved hand to Liza. “I’m Mrs. Emelda Grant, wife of
Robert James Grant, the mayor of Wilder.”
Liza resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d dined with the mayor of New York
City—and the Governor of the state—for God’s sake. And their wives had never
presented themselves with such fanfare, such pretentious importance. New York
Society had its snobs, but she was beginning to think the city had nothing on these
southern belles.
Gracious as can be, though, Liza daintily clasped Emelda’s hand and said, “It’s a
pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Grant.”
She made a small sound that could’ve been a Hmm. As if to say, “Of course it’s a pleasure to meet me.”
Liza bit her tongue on that one.
As Jess introduced her around, she discovered that, in addition to the mayor’s wife,
the “crème-de-la-crème of Wilder Society”, as Jess had put it, included three wives of City Council members—who definitely did not take a shine to her, likely because of her 155
Calista Fox
association with a man looking to unseat one of their husbands. Two doctors’ wives.
Four lawyers’ wives. Two widows. And, of course, the good reverend’s wife.
“Lydia,” Liza said as she turned to the last woman in the group.