Chapter Nine
The rest of the day passed with agonizing slowness—on all fronts. Wyatt tried his best to refrain from grumbling about the antiquated internet service running to the house, but programs and scans he could run at high speed in Little Rock seemed to be caught in some old sci-fi movie’s vision of a wormhole. Whenever he could, he switched to using his phone as a hot spot. It seemed counterintuitive to be able to get better mobile reception than satellite internet. When he mentioned as much to James Beckett on their afternoon ride around the property, the older man simply pointed to the flashing beacon on a tower poised atop the nearest hill and muttered something about Betsy’s boyfriend opting for improved cell service instead.
When they returned to the house in time for Jim to fire up his propane grill, they found the fridge restocked and the two women sitting on the back deck sipping white wine.
Betsy Beckett countered her husband’s raised eyebrow with a smug smirk. “I thought pork tenderloin would be nice for a change. Cara has some vegetables in there she’d like you to grill too. Oh, and I bought you boys some beer.”
“Sounds good,” Jim said. He leaned down and kissed his wife’s cheek on his way to the door. “You pick up ice cream for dessert?”
Her lips curved into a serene smile. “You know I did.”
“Perfect. I’ll get things ready, then be out to get things fired up.”
“I chopped and seasoned some veggies and threw them in the grill basket. Would you cook them up for me, Daddy? You’re so good at grilling,” Cara called after him.
Her father simply raised a hand in acknowledgment of her shameless flattery. Wyatt smiled at Cara. She looked a thousand times more relaxed than she had when he left with her father after lunch. Whether it was the wine or the nap she’d planned to take while he was out, he wasn’t sure. Either way, it looked good on her. An afternoon in the fresh air had done him a world of good. Wyatt decided he was going to do his best to be sure the rest of the evening remained mellow. They all needed a bit of a breather.
“All quiet on my end,” he assured her. “I’m gonna go help your dad.”
She toasted him with her wine. “We expect great things from you,” she called as he followed her dad into the house.
In the kitchen he found Cara’s father rooting around in the back of the refrigerator. When he surfaced, he held up a package of microwavable mashed potatoes and fixed him with a challenging stare. “Life lesson—there’s no need to peel, chop, boil and mash when you can have these hot and tasty in less than five minutes. Don’t judge me.”
“I grew up eating instant rice.”
“We both believe in working smarter,” Jim said with a conspiratorial nod. “Let’s get this going. I’m starved.”
When they sat down to dinner, her mother picked up the platter of sliced tenderloin and offered it to Wyatt as she addressed the table in general.
“Did I tell you I ran into Delia Raitt in town?” He helped himself to a piece of the meat, but before anyone could answer, she pushed the platter back at him. “Take two. Y’all look famished and you know Cara isn’t going to have any.”
His attention caught on how Cara stiffened at the name, he did as she asked with a murmured “Thank you,” then relinquished the fork. When no one commented on Betsy’s conversational gambit, he asked, “Delia Raitt? Is she someone you went to school with?”
“Mrs. Raitt was the principal’s secretary when I was in school,” Cara answered stiffly. “Liked to stick her nose in everyone’s business.”
“Well, the school district has consolidated and she’s working for the superintendent now. The school system is all different now, but Delia is the same.”
Jim Beckett ate steadily, oblivious to his daughter’s unease. “Still nosy.”
Betsy didn’t seem to notice Cara’s discomfiture, because she continued on without further encouragement.
“So nosy I’m surprised she doesn’t trip over the end of it,” Betsy said with a tinkling laugh. “Anyhoo, Dee said they’ve been getting calls about you.”
“What kind of calls?” Wyatt asked, working to keep his tone neutral.
“Reporters, mainly. She said people have been calling and asking about your big business deal in New York,” she reported, blasting Cara with a wide, proud smile. “I didn’t say anything before because I wanted your daddy to hear too, but she said they’re all real proud of you around there. Apparently, all sorts of fancy technological magazines have been calling and asking whether you’d come home to talk to the kids about working in big tech and what it’s like to build a business from the ground up and all.” She waved her fork in an all-encompassing circle before using it to stab a hunk of grilled squash.
Jim Beckett dropped his fork and stared at his wife with the open disbelief Wyatt wished he could show. “Are you kiddin’ me with this?”
Betsy blinked, her smile slipping as she cast a glance at Cara, then back to her husband. “No, I’m not kidding. I told her we were proud of her too.” She reached over and gave Cara’s hand an encouraging pat. “And we are. Even if we don’t understand it all. Aren’t we, James?”
Cara’s father blinked, then stared at her with such naked incredulity Wyatt cringed inwardly. “Were you drinking before you went to town?” he demanded.
“What?” Betsy asked on a sharp inhale. “No. Of course not.”
“Don’t you get it?” Jim shook his head. “The people callin’ the school might not be reporters. They could be the people behind this whole mess.” He threw his hands in the air. “Criminy, Elizabeth, we’re not supposed to let anyone know she’s here.”
“I didn’t tell anyone she’s here,” she retorted, shoving her chair away from the table. “I’m not a fool, and I won’t be spoken to like one in my own home.”