old building. “ Making sofas and going to lawyers? That doesn ’ t connect, sweetie. Just like your daddy leaving you here-- ”
“ My daddy didn ’ t leave me here, ” the child rushed to cut in. “ The lady from the lawyer ’ s office brung me— ”
“ Brought me. ” Dixie hardly realized she ’ d made the correction.
“ Brought me, ” the child echoed without so much as a hiccup in the flow of her story. “ She brought me here to get a treat while Daddy talked to the lawyer. ”
“ Now that is true, Miss Fulton-Leigh. One a them secretaries from Greenhow, Greenhow, whose-it, and what-have-you did come in and pay for this little gal ’ s shake. ”
“ Greenhow? ” Dixie stared blankly ahead.
“ That ’ s who my daddy is talking to. ” She nodded with such enthusiasm her hair kept bobbing after she ’ d tipped her chin up and hurried on with her explanation. “ Daddy says he ’ s maybe going to be a chair holder at the furniture building store. ”
“ He does? ” What could that Howard Greenhow be up to? He ’ d warned her that she was not finished dealing with him, but Dixie had imagined it just an idle threat, a parting shot by a powerless antagonist. Now she wasn ’ t so sure. “ Did your father tell you anything else about this? Did he say how he planned to buy into my company because last time I checked it wasn ’ t for sale. ”
“ I don ’ t know. ” Wendy gave an overplayed shrug. “ Daddy came over here to visit once and talked to the man who made the sofas— ”
“ Did he say what that man ’ s name was? ”
“ Fulton-Leigh, same as yours, ma ’ am. Is that your daddy? ”
“ Yes, it is. It was. ” Dixie cast her gaze down. How much more of a mess could her father have left behind for her to clean up?
“ And then my daddy said that he was going to be a chair holder we were moving here because he was going to ver- si - fy his vest-a-mints so he could spend more time taking care of me. He said the lawyer thought he could help Daddy do that and if he did we ’ d move here and he ’ d help make the sofas. ”
“ I don ’ t like the sound of this. ” Dixie put her hand to the back of her neck, surprised by the cold clamminess of her skin under her thick hair. “ I don ’ t like the sound of this, at all. ”
“ It ’ s okay. ” Wendy reached out and patted Dixie ’ s other hand. “ He ’ ll make real good sofas, ma ’ am. My daddy can do anything . ”
Dixie looked down at that tender face, so filled with pride and confidence in a hero of a father who would always be there for her. Oh, to be that trusting again. She swallowed hard and pushed aside the lovely notion. “ Well, it looks like my daddy could also do anything. Only not always in a good way. Guess I have to pay a little visit to Mr. Greenhow. It was nice talking with you...what did you say your name was? ”
“ Wendy. ”
“ Wendy. ” Dixie bowed her head in greeting and took the small hand in hers for one quick shake. “ It was nice to meet you, Wendy. But I ’ ve got to run. ” Still holding the girl ’ s hand, Dixie called in the general direction of the pharmacist ’ s counter, “ Noni, someone will be in to get Miss Lettie ’ s pills sometime later today. ”
“ Send anyone but that crackpot grandfather of yours. ”
“ I know. I know. ” Dixie bent low and touched a finger to Wendy ’ s chin. “ You stay put and keep right on not talking to strangers, you hear me? And you ’ ll be all right here until someone comes for— ”
“ Daddy! ”
In a flutter of dark hair and waving hands, Wendy leapt off the stool and scurried toward the drugstore ’ s glass front door.
Dixie set off after her. The clipped cadence of her heels fell in right behind the swish-swoosh-swish of Wendy ’ s corduroy jumper and the quiet rhythmic clacking of the tips of her untied shoelace dancing over the dingy floor with her every step.
An electronic ding like a doorbell signaled
“ My daddy didn ’ t leave me here, ” the child rushed to cut in. “ The lady from the lawyer ’ s office brung me— ”
“ Brought me. ” Dixie hardly realized she ’ d made the correction.
“ Brought me, ” the child echoed without so much as a hiccup in the flow of her story. “ She brought me here to get a treat while Daddy talked to the lawyer. ”
“ Now that is true, Miss Fulton-Leigh. One a them secretaries from Greenhow, Greenhow, whose-it, and what-have-you did come in and pay for this little gal ’ s shake. ”
“ Greenhow? ” Dixie stared blankly ahead.
“ That ’ s who my daddy is talking to. ” She nodded with such enthusiasm her hair kept bobbing after she ’ d tipped her chin up and hurried on with her explanation. “ Daddy says he ’ s maybe going to be a chair holder at the furniture building store. ”
“ He does? ” What could that Howard Greenhow be up to? He ’ d warned her that she was not finished dealing with him, but Dixie had imagined it just an idle threat, a parting shot by a powerless antagonist. Now she wasn ’ t so sure. “ Did your father tell you anything else about this? Did he say how he planned to buy into my company because last time I checked it wasn ’ t for sale. ”
“ I don ’ t know. ” Wendy gave an overplayed shrug. “ Daddy came over here to visit once and talked to the man who made the sofas— ”
“ Did he say what that man ’ s name was? ”
“ Fulton-Leigh, same as yours, ma ’ am. Is that your daddy? ”
“ Yes, it is. It was. ” Dixie cast her gaze down. How much more of a mess could her father have left behind for her to clean up?
“ And then my daddy said that he was going to be a chair holder we were moving here because he was going to ver- si - fy his vest-a-mints so he could spend more time taking care of me. He said the lawyer thought he could help Daddy do that and if he did we ’ d move here and he ’ d help make the sofas. ”
“ I don ’ t like the sound of this. ” Dixie put her hand to the back of her neck, surprised by the cold clamminess of her skin under her thick hair. “ I don ’ t like the sound of this, at all. ”
“ It ’ s okay. ” Wendy reached out and patted Dixie ’ s other hand. “ He ’ ll make real good sofas, ma ’ am. My daddy can do anything . ”
Dixie looked down at that tender face, so filled with pride and confidence in a hero of a father who would always be there for her. Oh, to be that trusting again. She swallowed hard and pushed aside the lovely notion. “ Well, it looks like my daddy could also do anything. Only not always in a good way. Guess I have to pay a little visit to Mr. Greenhow. It was nice talking with you...what did you say your name was? ”
“ Wendy. ”
“ Wendy. ” Dixie bowed her head in greeting and took the small hand in hers for one quick shake. “ It was nice to meet you, Wendy. But I ’ ve got to run. ” Still holding the girl ’ s hand, Dixie called in the general direction of the pharmacist ’ s counter, “ Noni, someone will be in to get Miss Lettie ’ s pills sometime later today. ”
“ Send anyone but that crackpot grandfather of yours. ”
“ I know. I know. ” Dixie bent low and touched a finger to Wendy ’ s chin. “ You stay put and keep right on not talking to strangers, you hear me? And you ’ ll be all right here until someone comes for— ”
“ Daddy! ”
In a flutter of dark hair and waving hands, Wendy leapt off the stool and scurried toward the drugstore ’ s glass front door.
Dixie set off after her. The clipped cadence of her heels fell in right behind the swish-swoosh-swish of Wendy ’ s corduroy jumper and the quiet rhythmic clacking of the tips of her untied shoelace dancing over the dingy floor with her every step.
An electronic ding like a doorbell signaled
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