The Judge

“Genealogy,” J.J. said.

“And titles and missing heirs,” Frank added.

“Hmm,” Wes said, rubbing his mouth the way he always did when he was thinking. “What kind of titles?”

“Land, I imagine. She spends a lot of time in the tax office.”

“Did you invite her to go with us to the musical Saturday night?” J.J. asked Frank.

“Uh, no.”

“Why the hell not? She’s single, good-looking and fun to talk to. Ask her.”

“I’ll think about it.”

J.J. gave an exasperated snort. “I’m going to the kitchen to see Mary Beth.”

Wes pushed back his chair. “You ’bout ready to go?”

“Anytime. Just don’t you start on me.”

“Start on you? About what, son?”

“About Carrie.”

His dad held up his hands in surrender. “I won’t say a word.”

CARRIE WORKED in her room for the entire afternoon. There were some serious gaps in the information she’d gathered so far. She was going to have to run down some deeds, land titles and some missing heirs. She hadn’t lied about that to Frank. One of the tough things about her job was locating heirs when property owners died and didn’t leave a will. Texas had very specific guidelines about who inherited in such cases. Figuring out who owned what could get complicated.

This part of her job required patience and persistence. It was often easier simply to talk to the existing landowners and get information to at least point her in the right direction, but since Uncle Tuck wanted things kept quiet as long as possible, she was handicapped in her search. If she ran into too many problems, she’d have to start questioning the locals. Maybe that’s where Millie the librarian might help.

After working at her computer for several hours, Carrie felt as if she was going cross-eyed. She saved her work, then stretched and got up. No wonder her eyes were tired. It was growing dark. But at least her material was organized, and she was ready to start work at the county clerk’s office the next day.

She thought about jogging, then remembered that this was the night Mary Beth taught aerobics. She ate an apple, washed her face, then changed into her sneakers and workout clothes.

By the time Carrie arrived at unit two, several women had gathered.

Mary Beth looked up and saw her. “Hi, Carrie. Come on in and let me get you acquainted with everybody.”

She led her to two women and introduced her to Ellen, a blonde who was in real estate, and Dixie, a brunette who was in remarkably good shape for a mother of six children. Mary Beth said, “These two are my best buddies from high school. Can you believe that we used to be cheerleaders together?”

Carrie laughed. “I was a high school cheerleader, too. It seems like eons ago.”

She also met Dr. Kelly Martin, a stunning green-eyed redhead, whose long curls were held atop her head with a big yellow clip.

“Dr. Kelly is the person you want to see if you break your leg or get the flu,” Mary Beth said. “The best doctor in Naconiche.”

Dr. Kelly grinned and stuck out her hand. “Hi, Carrie. I hope you don’t need to see me professionally. Are you new in town?”

“No, just visiting for a few weeks.” Carrie studied the doctor’s face. “You look very familiar to me. Have we met?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking the same thing. I grew up in Dallas. Did you?”

Carrie shook her head. “Did you go to the University of Texas?”

“Sure did.” She smiled knowingly, then mentioned the name of a sorority.

Memories flashed through Carrie’s mind, and she smiled as well. “Kelly Martin. Now I remember. You were a year or two ahead of me. But your hair was long and straight then, and you wore glasses.”

“I’ve had Lasik on my eyes, and I don’t have time anymore to blow-dry this mop into submission every morning. It’s great to see you again. You look gorgeous as always. It’s those eyes I remembered.” Kelly turned to Mary Beth. “Would you believe that Carrie and I were sorority sisters at UT years ago?”

“You’re kidding! That’s wonderful.”

“Are you going to be in town over the weekend?” Kelly asked Carrie.

“Sure am.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get together Sunday afternoon and catch up.”

They made plans for a late lunch, and there was barely time for a brief exchange of names with four other women before the class began. One of them was named Millie. The librarian? Carrie wondered.

She didn’t wonder long because Mary Beth went into her drill sergeant mode, and for almost an hour Carrie was too busy keeping the pace to think about much of anything. By the time they stopped to cool down, she was pooped and wet with sweat. She stretched out on the floor, flung her arms wide and sucked in deep breaths. “I may die,” she said to Kelly, who was next to her.

Kelly laughed. “I doubt it. But Mary Beth’s no wuss. She’s tough. I’ve got to run home and shower and make rounds at the hospital. See you Sunday.”

Carrie wiggled her fingers. After several of the women had left, she rose. “I thought I was in better shape,” she said to Mary Beth, who was standing with Ellen and Dixie.

“You’re in better shape than me,” Ellen said. “I still can’t make it through the whole session without resting several times.”

“Me, either,” Dixie chimed in.

“Yeah,” Ellen said, “but you had a baby not too long ago.”

“You’re all doing great,” Mary Beth said. “Remember that I said you should go at your own pace. You should have taken a break, Carrie.”

She chuckled. “What can I tell you? I’m a high achiever. I’m going to drag myself to my room and take a shower.”

“Have you had dinner?” Mary Beth asked.

“No, but I picked up something to nuke later.”

“Why don’t you join Ellen, Dixie and me at the tearoom for a light supper? It’s only leftovers, but we’d love to have you.”

Carrie laughed. “I’m a bit odoriferous for a social occasion.”

“Oh, piddle,” Dixie said with a dismissing wave. “We’ve all been sweating like pigs. Forget about it and come on. Mary Beth has saved us some chocolate cake.”

“Chocolate? How can I resist? That stuff is sinful.”