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Dallas Jean Lee glared at the hand in the crowd.  “Who said that?”

Everyone turned.  Smirking and holding up a video camera, Clementine Jane’s boss raised his voice.  “So what about those rumors, Dallas Jean?  Do you have a past worthy of a Vegas showgirl?  Your grandfather’s poker games were legendary, after all.”

“Why you son of a–”  Dallas Jean snarled, lunging forward.  Adelaide clamped a hand over her mouth, gripping her arm and holding her back. “Dallas, don’t lose your temper!” she hissed in Dallas Jean’s ear.  “Especially in front of the press!”

Norman hid a smile as he watched Dallas Jean’s face turn puce.  The puppy in her arms whimpered.  The crowd murmured and whispered, their stares of adulation turning to suspicion.

It was all working out the way he had planned.

Dallas Jean rocked back on her heels, gritting her teeth.  Suddenly, her face transformed.  The blinding smile was back as she shook her hair over her shoulders.  “Listen, ya’ll,” she drawled, fluttering her eyelashes.  “You know me.  You know I’m more likely to deliver a puppy to you than a hand at the craps table.”

The crowd laughed and clapped.  Norman clenched his jaw as Grayson put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

“And to be frank,” Dallas Jean cooed, cradling the puppy in her arms.  “My darling daughter, Clementine Jane, actually came to me the other day.”

Clementine Jane winced, keeping her head down and scribbling on her reporter’s notebook as hundreds of eyes darted her way.

“She came to me and she said”–  Dallas Jean paused.

“Oh Lord,” Grayson muttered, shaking his head with a grin.  “She’s gone into her Baptist mode.”

“Baptist mode?” Norman questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Pulpit thumping,” Grayson confirmed.  “She does this when she gets wound up.  She starts yelling and waving her arms around just like a Baptist preacher from the Deep South.  Any minute she’s going to have the crowd getting on their knees to let Dallas Jean into her heart.”

“Blasphemy,” Norman muttered sarcastically.

Grayson nodded in agreement, the stupidly pleased grin still on his face.  “You know, it’d almost be worth her winning,” he murmured.  “Just to see what she’d do with the town.”

Norman shot him an icy glare.  “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again.”

Shrugging, Grayson watched as his wife, even more wound up, stomped up and down on the Mustang seats.  “My poor daughter said that she had heard a filthy, vile, vicious rumor about me!” Dallas Jean howled.  The audience protested along with her.  Many were beginning to clap after each sentence, as though she was a great world leader.  “She had heard that my grandfather’s games were illegal!  That we were funneling money or drugs or something vile!”

Norman’s face drained of color.  This was not working out the way he had planned. “I can’t believe she talked about it publicly,” he muttered.

Grayson raised an eyebrow.  “It’s Dallas Jean.  What does she not do publicly?”

Norman watched in horror as Dallas Jean cradled the puppy in one arm, waving the other wildly in the air.  “And ya’ll know me.  Ya’ll know that I was raised in a good Christian home with upstanding values.  My daddy was a fine citizen of the community.”  Many older members of the crowd whooped and whistled.  “And I’m not going to let his name be sullied in the grave.  So along with the Dallas Jean Pie Center, I’ve got another campaign goal.”

Her smile could only be described as terrifying.  Clementine Jane felt icy fear grip her neck as her mother’s eyes roamed over the crowd.  “When I find who started these rumors, I will destroy them,” she murmured, her voice as loud as a shout.  “And after I destroy them, I shall bring back the beauty of my father’s games as he would have wanted them to be–a charity event benefiting the animal shelters and children’s centers of our fine town!  Gambling with a purpose!”

The crowd, who loved to gamble with or without a purpose, screamed and hollered with joy.  Many of the television crews winced as they swung their boom mikes around.

But to Norman, it was all white noise.  All he could hear as he stared at the reveling crowd was the thump of his own pulse in his ears.

Blowing kisses to the crowd, Dallas Jean Lee plopped back in the front seat as Adelaide threw the car in reverse and flew out of the main square.  Reporters chased after the car and camera crews turned to the crowd to get quotes for the evening news.  Still scribbling, Clementine Jane looked up to see a hand on her shoulder.  She scowled.  “What do you want?”

“Do you think Mom meant that?” her brother Beau asked, shading his eyes as he peered at his mother’s fading taillights.

“Who knows?” Clementine Jane shrugged.  “You know she’s crazy.”

“But do you really think she’ll help people?” Beau pressed.  “Or is this another crazy idea of hers?”

Clementine Jane shrugged a second time.  “Who cares?”

Beau pressed his lips together.  He nodded.  “Did someone really come to you with that rumor?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Clementine Jane replied curtly, flipping to a new page.  “Look, I got to go interview Dad.  Can we talk about this at home?”

“Sure,” Beau murmured as his sister barreled into the crowd after her father.  “Why not?”

Nudging people out of the way, Clementine Jane barreled her way through the crowd.  Smacking into a white button down shirt, she looked up and narrowed her eyes.

“I need to interview Dad,” she warned, glaring at Norman.  “You can’t stop me.  As the other candidate, it’s my right”–

“Of course, of course,” Norman replied, his white teeth blinding as he took her elbow and steered her away from the crowd.  “But first, I have something to discuss with you….”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a week of whimsical fun coming up!