To read the previous editions, go here.

The next day, Dallas Jean Lee propped her elbows on the table and sighed.  Adelaide rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t like salads, but all you’ve had in the past two days is pie and cinnamon rolls,” Adelaide reminded her.  “You’re not an elf.  You can’t eat sugar all day.”

“It’s not that.”  Dallas poked at her salad morosely.  “It’s Clementine Jane.”

Adelaide buried her red head in her hands.  “I’ve told her a million times she gets an exclusive.  Is she still bothering you?”

“Of course she is.”  A real smile crossed across Dallas’ face.  “But it’s not that.  She asked some weird questions.”

Adelaide set down the sandwich she’d been clutching.  “What?”

Glancing around the small cafe, Dallas Jean leaned forward.  “She asked about my Dad’s poker games.  She wanted to know if they were illegal, and what I’d been involved in.”

Adelaide’s hand shook, flicking mayonnaise all over the table.  “You’re kidding.”

Dallas Jean shook her head.  She stabbed a tomato, watching the juice run down the fork in orange streams.

“What did you tell her?” Adelaide asked.

Dallas Jean bit her lip, chopping at a cucumber.  “I told her I’d talk to her, but not the press.  And that there were secrets I’d promised to keep.”

Adelaide exhaled slowly, nodding.  “So what did she do?”

“She didn’t say anything.”  Dallas Jean tossed a crouton across her plate and crossed her arms.  “Someone put her up to this.  There’s barely anyone in this town alive that knows about my dad’s poker games.  And there’s only three people alive that know the truth, not the rumors.  You, me and Grayson.”

Adelaide narrowed her eyes.  “You think Grayson put her up to this?”

Dallas Jean leaned back, staring off in the distance.  “I don’t think so.  But if he didn’t, I don’t know who else it could be.”

Adelaide sucked in the air between her teeth.  “You’ll have to talk to him.”

Dallas Jean nodded.  She pressed her lips together, her eyes narrowing.  “Let’s talk about the pie plan.”  She shoved the salad plate aside, pulling out a notepad.

“Are you sure?” Adelaide asked, her forehead creased.  “I mean, wouldn’t you want to go do a kickboxing class or cry or something?  Burn off some steam?”

Dallas Jean grit her teeth.  “Unlike Grayson, if this is his doing, I’m not going to play dirty.  I’m going to win this race fair and square the only way I know how: puppies, kids, pie and old people.”

Adelaide grinned and raised the sandwich to her lips, toasting Dallas with it.  “Amen.”

***

Clementine Jane glanced back and forth, then hurried forward.  Ducking through the heavy wooden door, she slipped through the dark hallway.  Running her fingers down the smooth wood walls, she waited until her thumb caught on a tack.  It was the same tactic she had used since she was five.  Turning left, she took three steps and knocked on a mahogany door.

“What?” a irritated voice drawled.

“It’s Clementine Jane.”

“Who?”

“Clementine Jane.”

“Ah, Bill’s granddaughter!”  The door swung open.  A ancient man with a large pot belly that strained against his wranglers and plaid shirt beamed.  “Hi darling!  Is your mama with you?”

Clementine Jane hugged the man she knew as her second grandfather.  “Nope.  She’s working on her campaign.”

The man cackled, his buttons straining.  “That girl always did have gumption.  So what are you doing down at the country club?  I’m surprised you got in.  They barely let women in, let alone beautiful young women.”

Clementine Jane simpered.  “George, I need to know something.  You and Grandpa were best friends, right?”

George bobbed his pink bald head.  “Two peas and a pod, we were.”  He stared at the ceiling, his rheumy blue eyes misting over.  “Bless his soul.”

“Well, I’m following a lead for the paper,” Clementine Jane informed him.  “I got a tip that his poker games may not have been…kosher.”

“Of course they weren’t kosher.”  George snorted, cackling.  “We had barbecue and burgers….tamales, chili….”  He licked his lips, rubbing his belly.  “What time is it?  Can an old man take his favorite honorary granddaughter to lunch?”

Clementine Jane beamed.  “Sure, George.”  She didn’t have the heart to tell him it was 3 p.m.  She’d do anything for George.  “I mean, that they weren’t legal.”

George’s face clouded, then faded to a neutral screen.  “Where did you hear that?”

Clementine Jane gulped.  “I can’t reveal my sources.”

George’s pink cheeks darkened.  “Well, unless it was your mom or dad, I’m not saying a word.  I will tell you this, Clementine Jane.  Small towns are full of bigots and small minded nutjobs.  Your grandfather was one of the best men I know.  I helped host those poker games, and I’m damn proud of them.”

Clementine Jane placed her hand on George’s arm. “I know Grandpa was a good man,” she mummured, locking her eyes on his.  “That’s why I’m following this so heavily, George.  Any other reporter would use this to destroy my mom.  If I can find out the truth, I can at least minimize the damage.”

George stared at her in wonder.  “If I told you your Grandad’s games were illegal, you’d still print it?”

Clementine Jane bit her lip.  “I have to.  I’m a reporter for the paper.  My parents are candidates.  Who better to report?”

George shook his head, his wrinkled face drooping.  “I’d have thought better of you, Clementine Jane.  I thought you’d understand better.”

“Understand what?” Clementine Jane begged, stepping forward.  “I’m trying to understand, but no one will talk to me.”

“Your mother and grandfather are two of the best people I know,” George repeated.  He glanced at his desk.  “Listen, I’ve got some more work to do here at the Club before I go home.  Give your folks my regards, hear?”  He gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.  “Be good in school.”

Clementine Jane forced a smile.  “Sure.”  Hanging her head, she crept out of the office.  The door closed behind her with a firm click.

Standing in the darkened hallway, Clementine Jane had no idea what to do next.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have more whimsical fun and a week full of recipes, stories and fun!  Stay tuned!