The Influence(11)

“Okay.” Ross nodded.

“Whatcha got here today? Got some of that clover honey? That’s my favorite.”

“Not the right season,” Dave said. “We have some mesquite, though. Sweet and fresh.”

“Gimme a jar.” Taking a wad of cash from his front pocket, the handyman peeled off a five, handing it to Lita before taking the jar of honey Dave passed to him. McDaniels held up the container. “You know, I have a buncha these jars sittin’ around the house. You want ’em back?”

“Of course,” Lita said. “For each one you bring back, you can have a quarter off your next purchase.”

“Why dintcha tell me that before?”

“We thought you knew.”

“Well, now I do.” McDaniels grinned. “I’ll bring ’em next week.” He tipped his head toward Ross. “Nice t’meetcha.”

Ross smiled as he walked away. “Jackass McDaniels, huh? Who’s that behind him, Dickhead O’Malley?”

Laughing, Lita hit his shoulder. “Knock that off!”

A beefy, angry-looking man with a clear sense of entitlement was striding through the sparse crowd toward them, making a beeline for their table. A smaller, Hispanic man followed subserviently in his wake, pulling a wagon.

“Cameron Holt,” Dave said. “He has the big ranch to the north of ours. Hey, Cameron. How’s it going?”

The man ignored him. “I’ll take six dozen white eggs and a dozen brown eggs.”

“That’ll be twenty one dollars.” Dave reached back into the bed of the pickup to meet the order, while Lita collected the money.

Waiting patiently behind the rancher in the closest thing they’d had to a line so far was an elderly woman holding very tightly to the arm of an even older man, obviously her husband. When Holt left abruptly, leaving his underling to pick up the egg cartons and pack them into the wagon, the woman stepped forward, pulling her husband with her.

“Hello, Mrs. Ford,” Lita said with genuine warmth. “And Mr. Ford.”

“How are you today, dearie?”

Ross had never heard anyone outside of an old movie call anyone “dearie” but the affectionate term came effortlessly and naturally to the old woman, and she and Lita chatted unhurriedly for several minutes before Mrs. Ford bought a small jar of honey. Throughout the conversation, her husband had not said a word, had merely looked around blankly. She was still holding tightly to his arm, and after saying goodbye and telling Ross that she was pleased to have met him, she turned her husband around and led him away. “Come on, Del,” she said. “Let’s buy some bread.”

“He has Alzheimer’s,” Lita said sadly after they left.

“He’s had it ever since we moved here,” Dave pointed out.

“I know. I just feel sorry for Ms. Ford. She’s such a nice lady.”

A couple came walking up the street, a middle-aged man and woman who would have looked more at home shopping high-end stores in Scottsdale than trudging down a dirt road way out here in Magdalena.

“Our local royalty,” Lita whispered. “Paul and Heather Coburn. Heather Cox-Coburn,” she corrected herself. “He’s an internet tycoon. She used to be a model. Last year, she was on The Real Housewives of Houston. They just moved here in September…well, not exactly moved here. They bought up a lot of land, built a gigantic house and threw themselves a housewarming party. They flew in celebrities and business bigwigs but didn’t invite anyone local. It was on Extra and in US Weekly. Since then, they come out for a month or so at a time. I think he fancies himself another Ted Turner.

“They never buy anything from us,” she added.

Sure enough, the couple walked past, looked down at the table, then continued on. They didn’t buy anything from anyone, Ross noticed, and for some reason he was reminded of couples in old movies, who strolled down avenues just to be seen.

The farmer’s market was scheduled to go on until one, but it was clear to Ross after the first hour that his presence was not really needed. There was seldom more than one customer at a time—a pace either Lita or Dave could easily handle alone—and since he was here in town, he decided to walk around and check out the local businesses. Until now, he’d only seen Magdalena from a car window, and briefly at that. So he took advantage of the opportunity to do a little exploring, walking down the dusty street past a dingy laundromat he had not noticed before, and a closed fix-it shop whose narrow window space was piled high with toasters, typewriters, blenders, mixers and various obsolete household items.

The grocery store was open, and Ross walked inside. Walking down the aisles, he understood why Lita and Dave didn’t do much shopping here. Aside from the fact that it was dark and depressing, the store’s shelves were poorly stocked, mostly with things like Spam and Hamburger Helper, and the refrigerated case in the back was nearly empty, although he did see several L Bar-D egg cartons. The balding old man behind the counter seemed hostile and suspicious, and though Ross had originally intended to buy a can of Coke or something, just to help the place out, when he caught the glare the old man was giving him, he decided to leave without buying anything.