For previous editions, go here.

“Who spread this rumor?” Dallas Jean fumed, shouting over the noise of the engine as Adelaide skidded around a corner.  “How did the press find out about it so fast?”

“Clementine Jane’s boss is the one let the cat out of the bag,” Adelaide reminded her over the squeal of the tires.  “Clementine Jane probably confided in him before we got to her at the office…”

“And the son of gun turned on her.”  Dallas Jean swore under her breath.  Then her eyes narrowed and her face darkened into a scowl.  “You know, this is all Norman’s fault.”

“We can’t prove it,” Adelaide reminded her, throwing the car into fifth gear.

Dallas Jean clutched the puppy as the car swerved around another tight turn.  “Maybe not in a court of law, but my gut says Norman stirred all this up.  Especially after the way he acted the other night.”  She peered down the road and cried out with glee, clapping her hands in suprise.  “Oh, Adelaide!  You’ve made me the happiest girl in the world!”

Adelaide grinned.  “I thought I might.”  Jerking the wheel, she skidded on two wheels into the parking lot of Miss Maisy’s Pie Shop.  With the puppy flopping in her arms like a stuffed animal, Dallas Jean was barreling towards the front door before the car had even stopped.  Throwing the door open, she dropped the puppy on Miss Maisy’s counter and gasped.

“I need one peanut butter, one butterscotch and one chocolate oreo ice cream pie stat!” she howled.  The puppy licked Miss Maisy’s flour covered hands as the elderly woman laughed.

“I saw the press conference.  I didn’t think it went that bad.  Is there something I missed?”

“The press conference wasn’t bad.”  Dallas Jean bared her teeth.  “I just have to deal with a bad…situation.”  The tiny silver bells on the door tinkled and Adelaide walked in.

“Are you in need of pie, too?” Miss Maisy asked, scratching the puppy’s ears.

Adelaide nodded.  “Coconut cream, blueberry and cherry, if you don’t mind.  A la mode on the fruit pies.”

Miss Maisy whistled.  “A la mode is serious.  I’ll hurry right out.”  Taking the puppy with her, she disappeared into the kitchen.  Luckily for Miss Maisy, the health inspector was her brother in law.

Collapsing at a gingham-cloth covered table, Dallas Jean propped her dropping face onto her elbows.  “What are we going to do, Adelaide?  How can we get back at Norman?”

“I personally prefer something violent,” Adelaide murmured.  “But I know that’s not the right thing to do.”

“It wouldn’t be good for the campaign,” Dallas Jean agreed.  She smiled up at Miss Maisy as she set three plates in front of her.  “Thanks, Miss Maisy.  Your pie always makes me feel better.”

“Pie is magic like that,” Miss Maisy agreed, setting down three plates in front of Adelaide.  Giving them a pitcher of both water and milk, she returned her attention to cooing at the puppy.

“That’s why I can’t wait until we open up my pie center,” Dallas Jean beamed, smacking her lips together as she shoved an enourmous bite of peanut butter pie in my mouth.  “Joy and love and frivolity for everyone!”

“Except Norman,” Adelaide snorted, stirring her ice cream into her warm blueberry pie.  “That man wouldn’t know a good pie if it slammed into his face.  He doesn’t have a happy or kind bone in his body.”

Dallas Jean’s eyes glittered.  “You know, Adelaide, that’s a really good point…”

——-

As her mother wondered what to do to Norman, Clementine Jane was busy figuring out how she could get away with slapping him.  Jerking her arm out of his grasp, she glared up at him.

“What do you want?” she hissed, crossing her arms.  “If you think you can keep me from talking to my father”–

“I would never do that.”  Norman’s smile could only be described as a leer.  “I wondered if you might be interested in a deal.”

“The press doesn’t make deals with campaigns,” Clementine Jane snapped automatically.  “You can’t buy me for good press.”

“I can generate good press,” Norman drawled, his face smooth and polite.  “What I need is your help.”

“Another wild goose chase?” Clementine Jane sneered.  “I almost got grounded for a year because of you, and I nearly lost my job.  I’m not playing your games anymore, Norman.”  She turned, ready to march away into the remnants of her mother’s crowd.

“What if I told you that I could give you evidence of your grandfather cheating?”  Norman called.  “What if I told you I had the evidence in my office?”

Clementine Jane’s shoulders stiffened.  Whirling around, she hurried over to him.  “What are you talking about?”

Norman smirked.  “I’ve been handling your family’s affairs for a long time, Clementine Jane.  There’s not a piece of paper that hasn’t crossed my desk.  Let’s just say that your grandfather’s ranch–your family’s trust funds–weren’t built on oil alone.”

Clementine Jane paled.  Her hand holding the reporter’s notebook quivered.  “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“The question is, do you know what you might be missing?  What kind of story you might turn away?  Think about it,” Norman purred, melting into the crowd with a small wave.  “You know where I’ll be.”

For the second time in several days, Clementine Jane wondered what the hell she was going to do.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have a new whimsical post and next week, more whimsical fun!  Stay tuned!