“Henry who? Is he some kind of stylist?”
Peggy laughed at her confusion. “Never mind that. All I’m saying is, I’ve got your back. We can do this together.”
“So how do we get started then, pardner?” Brenne asked, knowing she was going to regret it later. But Peggy’s appeal combined with her brother’s soliloquy in the stables to make her susceptible to bad suggestions.
“You know that charity event next week? You’re going to invite him to be your date.”
“I heard tickets to that thing were already sold out,” Brenne said. “I bet Ryker is over the moon about it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Peggy said, reaching into her pocket to pull out two tickets to the charity dinner. “All you need to tell me is your dress size.”
CHAPTER 21
ALEX
The Whiskey River Grange Hall had never looked so different. Alex scanned the open space, taking in the transformation that his vet tech had wrought. “This place looks amazing, Emma. It’s like we just stepped into the screen and ended up in Hollywood ourselves.”
Emma beamed, her hand tightening on his arm. “I don’t deserve all the credit. The people of Whiskey River pulled together to make this little miracle happen. They must really care about horses.”
“That or everyone really needed a night out.” One of the pitfalls of living in a small rural town like Whiskey River was that you ran out of things to do on a Friday night pretty quickly. Johnnie’s saloon was about the only thing to do besides sneaking off into the night to make a new generation of town residents.
Emma seemed to fit right into her surroundings. She looked lovely on his arm, her forest green dress a form-fitting lace that dropped to the floor. The back opened in a V, exposing her skin. It was an attractive ensemble, with her hair in an elegant updo and tasteful jewelry completing the look. It was tasteful, refined, a glimpse of Hollywood glamour right here in Whiskey River.
Emma wasn’t the only one who pulled out her finery for the event. All around him, the residents of Whiskey River had pulled out old prom dresses and ancient tuxedos from their mothballs to show off at tonight’s event. Alex supposed folks around here didn’t get many chances to dress to the nines, and he was pleased that everyone was getting into the spirit of the event, especially for Emma’s sake. She’d worked hard on this, and it showed.
“Y’all have outdone yourselves!” Milly Beakins appeared in front of him, her customary beehive teased to new heights. She’d gotten the notion to stick flowers in it, pink carnations that bloomed at seemingly random intervals in the dark brown soil that was her hair. Oddly, they went well with her bubblegum pink dress and strappy pink heels.
“Miss Milly, you’re looking radiant,” Alex said, taking her left hand and bowing over it before pressing a kiss on the back of her hand.
Milly fanned herself with her matching pink clutch, her eyes rolling up to the heavens. “Lord have mercy, Doctor Parsons. Ain’t you a gentleman?”
“He is,” Emma said with a little laugh. “He’s also the one who’s sponsoring this event.”
“I knew you were kindhearted,” Milly said, still holding his hand as if she didn’t plan to let it go any time this millennium. “The two of you are saints!”
Gently, Alex extricated his hand and smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Milly. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we really should circulate. Enjoy the event!”
“I will,” Milly said, waving her clutch wildly. Alex led Emma in the direction of the tables where the buffet was being established. It was four tables long and rapidly filling with a menagerie of savory food and sweets.
“This looks amazing,” Alex said. “I have no idea how you managed this.”
“Well, I spent about a week straight on the phone, so if the bill at the clinic is a little higher this month, you’ll know why.” Emma bit her lip, looking up at him with an expression that was a mixture of guilt and amusement.
“It will be a small price to pay for all of this.” Alex spread his hands, indicating the bounty at his fingertips. Piles of fried chicken sat beside stacks of sliced ham and brisket. He counted at least five varieties of potato dishes, three different recipes involving macaroni, and a multitude of salads, vegetables, and fruit. The final table held several cakes and cookies, as well as four perfect pies that could only have come from Mama May MacAllen.
As he took in the cornucopia of delights, Mama May herself appeared, carrying a fifth pie, this one some sort of chocolate cream by the looks of it. “You can just hand that right over to me,” he said with a charming smile.
“Alexander Parsons, you know better than that,” Mama May replied with a mischievous smile. “This is for everyone. I won’t have a repeat of the time you and Jameson ate an entire pecan pie that was intended for the church bake sale.”
Alex remembered the event. He’d been fifteen and growing like a weed. When Jameson had mentioned pie, all other thoughts went out the window. “That can’t be true,” Emma said with a gasp from beside him.
“Guilty as charged,” he said, putting his hands up and laughing. “My stomach was fully in charge of both my body and my brain from ages eleven to twenty-three. It’s a wonder I managed to make it through veterinary school when all I could think about were the cheeseburgers they served in the school cafeteria.”
The women laughed. “I can’t thank you enough for your time. And your pies,” he told the MacAllen matriarch. “I’m overwhelmed by everyone’s generosity toward this cause.”
“You can thank that young lady by your side,” Mama May said, gesturing toward Emma. “She’s a bona fide sweetheart. Besides, everyone supports what Ryker Strong is doing with those poor animals.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And we all wanted to get out of the house and put on our fancy clothes. Winters in Whiskey River can get mighty dull.”
The round dining tables in the hall were beginning to fill up with hungry diners. Emma checked the little silver watch around her wrist, then extricated her arm from his. “It’s about time to get things started. If you’ll excuse me?”
Alex nodded, and Emma flashed him a smile before leaving his side to head to the stage at the back of the hall. “She’s a fine woman, Miss Emma,” Mama May said softly.
“She is,” Alex said, feeling slightly strange having this conversation. “She set this thing up all on her own. A guy couldn’t ask for a better employee.”
“Just an employee?” Mama May said, a hint of astonishment in her voice. “Someone might say that it would be a good idea to rope that one in before someone else does.”
Alex looked at the older woman, eyebrows raised. He opened his mouth but couldn’t make a solid word come out, just hesitations and hedges. He was grateful when music swelled through the PA speakers, distracting them both.
“Welcome, residents of Whiskey River, to the first annual Roll Out The Red Carpet for Charity event!” The velvet voice of Mayor Marshall Jones made all heads turn to the podium where he stood. Whiskey River’s perennial mayor was attired in a formal black tuxedo with the requisite bow tie and cummerbund.