The Influence(16)

He shook his head, smiling. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Lita sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to go either.”

“You could stay.” He gestured around the room. “I have an exciting evening planned. I intend to eat your pie, watch the Curb Your Enthusiasm marathon and be in bed by ten.”

“That’s so sad!” She laughed. “You’re not even going to stay up until midnight?”

“Nah. New Year’s has never been a real holiday to me anyway. There’s no gifts, no feast, just…bad TV.”

“Well, I’ll be thinking about you.”

“With envy?”

“Actually, yes,” she admitted. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun.”

By the time Lita walked back up to the house, Dave was ready to leave. The party this year was at Cameron Holt’s—yet another reason she didn’t want to go—but a lot of friends would be there, some of whom she hadn’t seen in awhile, and as they drove down one dirt road and then another on their way to Cameron’s ranch, she gradually grew more enthusiastic about the evening. The desert was dark, and long before they arrived, a line of white headlights and red taillights could be seen winding like a snake toward their destination, which shone like a beacon in the blackness.

The parking area in front of the house was full, so people had started pulling off the edge of the drive and parking in the weeds on the side. Dave pulled behind a dented white pickup that Lita recognized as Vern Hastings’ truck, and Vern and his wife Rose got out. Vern gave a short wave, and the two of them headed up the drive without waiting.

“Typical,” Lita said disgustedly as she handed Dave the pie and held tightly to the doorframe before stepping out onto the uneven ground.

The music was audible even from here, but she didn’t recognize the song and couldn’t tell if it was live or recorded until the tune changed to “American Farmer,” and it was clear that it was not Charlie Daniels singing. She turned to Dave. “Cameron hired a band?”

“I think Jim Haack’s boys started a band with a couple of their friends. It’s probably them.”

“They’re not bad,” Lita said.

Holt’s foreman, Jorge, was standing on the front porch, directing guests around back, and Dave waved a greeting. “He’s making you work on New Year’s Eve?”

Jorge shrugged and smiled, but Lita could see the resentment in his eyes. She felt sorry for Jorge. And for all of Cameron’s workers. The man was clueless, heartless and pretty much an all-around bastard. She was surprised he kept any workers at all. If she were Jorge, she would have defected to another employer a long time ago.

They turned the corner. The Haack boys did indeed have a band—Tumbleweed Connection, according to the name written on the front of the bass drum—and they were set up in a corner of the back patio where a line of small speakers put out surprisingly loud and surprisingly clear sound. Quite a few couples, including several senior citizens, were dancing to their version of “Act Naturally.”

Cameron and some of the other big ranchers were clustered around a keg that had been set up on the opposite side of the patio, laughing loudly at some private joke that was no doubt offensive to three-fourths of the other people there, and Dave immediately started toward them.

Lita grabbed his hand. “No,” she said. “Uh-uh.”

“We’ll just stop by and say hi. We’ll put in an appearance, then move on. It is his party.”

“David…”

“We have to. These are our customers.” He nodded toward Vern Hastings, backslapping people by the open pit barbecue. “And our competition.”

“All right,” she reluctantly agreed. “We’ll put in an appearance.”

But Cameron and his buddies, Jack Judd in particular, were already half-drunk and in a garrulous mood, and instead of the quick hello she’d expected, they got drawn into a discussion about the prospects of turning the valley into wine country, making Magdalena Arizona’s version of Napa. It was an endlessly looping debate, made even more interminable by the fact that the ranchers were downing beer like it was water.

Lita escaped as quickly as she could, leaving Dave with Cameron’s crew (although he’d definitely hear from her about it later. What happened to the ‘moving on’ he’d promised?) and heading toward friendlier territory. Darla and JoAnn were hanging out with Lurlene from the laundromat, and Lita joined them next to a picnic table filled with various pretzels, crackers, chips, dips and salsas. Everyone asked where her cousin was—they’d all heard that Ross was staying with them—and Lita explained that he hadn’t wanted to come.