The Man She Married by Ann DeFee Page A

day’s receipts. “Really? What?”
    “Cora Lee said there’s a family betting pool—I assume on how soon Clay and I will get together.” Maizie leaned over the counter to get nose-to-nose with her employee. “What do you know about that?”
    At first PJ looked shocked, but then her expression changed to guilt. “Why would I know anything?”
    Maizie stepped back. More than likely, PJ was the family bookie.
    “Because you’re privy to everything that goes on around here?” Maizie knew full well that PJ was up to her cute little kneecaps in it.
    “Hey, it wasn’t my idea.” The assistant manager put her hands up in the air. “Your mom’s the ringleader.”
    “Mama? My mother organized a betting pool?”
    “Yep. Her money’s on twenty-eight days. I think she said something about you guys being mulish. Your aunt Anna Belle is much more optimistic. She went for a week.”
    Good going, Auntie Anna Belle. At least Kenni’s mother had faith.
    “What about my sister?” Maizie couldn’t wait to hear Liza’s take.
    “She’s got ten days. She thinks that after a couple more ‘visitations’—” PJ emphasized the word with finger quotes, “—he’ll scurry over to the bright side.”
    “Liza’s always been an optimist. What about you? I’m sure you plunked down your ante.”
    PJ had the chutzpah to giggle. “My guess is even longer than your mom’s. I work for you, remember?”

Chapter Twenty-One

    It had been almost a week since the Brenda Lee incident and the fact that he hadn’t seen or heard from Maizie was making Clay nervous. In this case, no news wasn’t necessarily good news.
    But enough worrying about his errant wife—work was calling. Boy, was it ever.
    Clay was engrossed in deciphering a spreadsheet when Harvey appeared in his office doorway. “What’s up, partner?” Clay took his reading glasses off and laid them on his desk.
    “Have you seen the paper this morning?” Harvey whipped a copy of the Magnolia Bluffs Gazette out from behind his back.
    “No, why? Do they have a special on pot roasts at the Piggly Wiggly?” Clay thought he’d come up with a decent comeback, until he took a good look at his friend’s grin.
    Clay rounded the desk and snatched the newspaper out of Harvey’s hand.
    “Here’s a clue. Try Cora Lee’s page.” Uh-oh. His partner was smirking.
    “Oh, God,” he moaned. “Please tell me Maizie hasn’t completely lost her mind.”
    Harvey pointedly said nothing before he exited.
    An Invitation To A Two-Fer—A Brass Quartet Recital And Chapter Three Of The War Of The Walkers. That was the headline of the society section.
    “Harvey!” Clay was halfway down the hall before he noticed his staff. The women were giggling and the men were giving him their best “you poor sucker” looks.
    “Harvey!” He stormed into his partner’s office waving the paper. “Did you know this was coming?”
    Harvey’s eloquent shrug said it all.
    Was the entire town conspiring against him? No sooner had that thought occurred to Clay than he heard music. It wasn’t ordinary music—au contraire—he distinctly heard a tuba.
    “ What is that?”
    “You’d better go check it out,” Harvey wheezed through his laughter. “We have a few visitors in the lobby.”
    Clay shot him a rude hand gesture as he hurried out to the lobby. A few people! Hell, there were people all over the reception area and spilling out the front door. Didn’t they have anything better to do than watch his humiliation?
    In the middle of the crowd was the local high school’s marching band—complete with uniforms and feathered hats. Great, now a bunch of teenagers were involved in what Cora Lee had dubbed the War of the Walkers. Oh, the joys of living in a small town.
    The tuba player was the first to spot him. “Hey, Mr. Walker. We came to play for you.” He turned to his fellow musicians. “Here we go. A one, a two anda three.” When he nodded, the music almost blasted Clay out of the