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Dropping her bike on the front porch, Clementine Jane yanked open the front door and marched inside.  “Beau?” she called.  “Beau, are you here?”

She heard a snarl from upstairs.  Clutching the worn key in her hand, she took the steps two at a time.  Hurrying down the hall, she turned the corner and knocked on Beau’s door.  “Can I come in?”

The sigh escaped under the door.  “I suppose.”  She opened the door and tried not to grin.  Her brother was curled up in a leather chair in plaid pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, a thick history book clenched in one hand.

“Hot night out?” she teased.

Beau shrugged.  “Someone in this family needs to be educated on politics.  Our parents are more concerned about votes then policy.”  He shook his head.  “You know, after that night at the pizza shop, I really thought Mom would do something.”

“You don’t like this puppy and pie campaign?”  Clementine Jane folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe.  Her brother had never revealed this much to her.

“It’s nice and everything.”  He shrugged, unenthusiastic.  “But what about the kids that are struggling in school because they’ve been misdiagnosed with ADD or don’t have the help at home?  What about the ranching kids from the West side of town that can’t afford proper shoes or supplies because the ag industry in hurting right now?  What about the seniors that need medical help and can’t afford it?”

“Are you a democrat?” Clementine Jane whispered, glancing around.

Beau rolled his eyes.  “My point was, if she’s going to spend the taxpayer’s money helping people, she might as well help in other ways.”  He tapped his hands against the book.  “But you didn’t come here to listen to me.  What’s wrong?”

Clementine Jane tossed him the worn brass key.  He turned it over in his hand and raised his head.  “It’s a key.”

“To a security box supposedly filled with papers proving that Mom was involved in Grandpa’s illegal poker games,” Clementine Jane announced.  “And according to one particularly suspicious woman, she can prove that Mom was involved in all sorts of criminal activities knowingly.”

Beau’s face was carefully blank as he tossed the key back to her.  “Do you believe that?”

Clementine Jane sighed.  “No.  I don’t want to believe it though.  If it’s true…”

Beau nodded.  “What are you going to do?”

Clementine Jane slumped against the doorframe, tapping her heel into the wood.  “I have no idea. I’m burning with curiosity, but at the same time, I don’t want to know.  I feel it’s my job to report it, but I also feel I need to protect them if it’s true.  And if it’s not true, I want to tell the world and take this woman down.”  She frowned.  “And Norman’s been hinting about papers too.  He keeps trying to butter me up, give me scoops against Mom.”

“Norman will do anything for Dad to win,” Beau replied.  “I’m not surprised.”

“But if Mom was involved, wouldn’t Dad be?” Clementine Jane argued.  “Then he’d be hurting Dad’s chances, not helping them.”

Beau shrugged.  “Maybe that’s his plan.  Maybe his plan is to run himself after he gets Mom and Dad out of the way and causes a big scandel.”

Clementine Jane’s eyes widened.  “I never thought of that.”

Beau grinned, tapping the history book.  “That’s because you don’t know politicians like I do.”

Biting her lip, Clementine Jane stared at her brother.  “What should I do?”

Cracking open his book, Beau shifted in his chair.  “I can’t tell you what to do.  You have to do what you believe is right.”

Clementine Jane shook her head.  “I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.”

Beau stared at the pages of his history book.  “Clementine Jane, right and wrong is never easy.  The men who wrote the Declaration, who succeeded from England, they knew it wouldn’t be easy.  But they also knew it wouldn’t be right to stay under England’s rule.  Whether or not you like what you find in the security box is of little consequence.  It’s what you do with it that’s important.”

Clementine Jane stared at her 15-year-old brother.  “How did you get so smart?”

With a perfectly straight face, Beau replied, “I’m adopted.”

——————————————————————————————————-

Burping behind a pink scarf, Dallas Jean thumped her chest and giggled.  “Excuse me!”  Glancing around Miss Maisie’s Pie Shop, she beamed.  Every table was littered with crumb-covered and cream-smeared plates and stacked high with dirty tea cups.  The bookworm cookies were long gone and the Ladies of the Library had long ado waddled back home, satisfied in both belly and heart.

“I do believe that was a success,” Dallas Jean drawled, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with the scarf.  She looked at Miss Maisie hopefully.  “Any more peanut butter pie left?”

Miss Maisie hid a grin as she collected the dirty dishes.  “About two pieces.  I saved them for you.”

“Oh good.”  Dallas patted her chest.  “A few more burps and I’ll be ready for them.”

“Did you see Norman’s face?”  Adelaide gloated.  Stretching, she patted her rounded belly.  “I thought he was going to lose his mind!  Not only did you make the national news, you got both the Ladies of the Library and the Garden Club on your side!”

“Don’t forget the Junior League and Fire Department’s Baseball Team,” Dallas Jean murmured, fluttering her lashes.  She belched again into her scarf, waving it under her chin as if to erase the noise.  “But it’s not enough.”

“What do you mean?” Adelaide raised her eyebrows.  “Everyone loves your ideas.  This pie and puppy thing is a hit!”

“It certainly is,” Miss Maisie added, combing through bills at the register.  “It’s certainly helping me out.”

“No, no, the campaign is fine.”  Dallas Jean waved her hand.  “I’m talking about Norman.  I think he’s been talking to Clementine Jane.  He’s stirring up trouble.  I just don’t know what.”

“How do you know he’s talking to Clementine Jane?” Adelaide demanded.

“I’ve just got a feeling.”  Dallas Jean’s lips tightened.  “He can screw with me, but he’s not screwing with my kids.  I’ve got to take him down.”

Adelaide’s eyes sparkled.  “I could call my cousin that works for the FBI….”

“I could put Ex-Lax in a pie,” Miss Maisie offered.

Dallas Jean bit her lip, strumming her fingertips against her jawbone.  “No, no.  It’s got to be much nastier.  We’ve got to get low and dirty.  It’s the only way to play fair with a snake like that.”  She perked up.  “Maybe some pie would help me think.”

Adelaide’s jaw dropped.  “You ate five pieces at the meeting and two dozen bookworm cookies.”

“So?”  Dallas Jean inquired.  “What’s your point?”

Miss Maisie laughed.  “I’ll grab you a slice.”  She disappeared in the kitchen as the bakery’s door opened.

“We’re closed!” Adelaide shouted, not bothering to glance over her shoulder.  “Come back tomorrow!”

“Oh, I’m not here for pie.”  Grayson smiled, peeking through the doorframe.  His eyes met Dallas Jeans, and the smile faded.  “Honey, can I talk to you?  Alone?”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have some whimsical fun and next week, even more delightful treats!  Stay tuned!

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