Free In Plain Sight by Lorena McCourtney Page B

them, along with a title: Texas T-Bird Ranch. I smiled then. Thunderbirds had reminded him of me. Okay .
    The remainder of the message said that he would be in Missouri to do an article on Lake of the Ozarks sometime in the next few weeks and would give me a call.
    I’d met Mac MacPherson through Magnolia and Geoff back on Madison Street. They had met him on one of their many excursions into genealogy by motor home. He lives full time in his motor home and wanders the country doing articles for travel magazines. We had what I thought was a nicely companionable relationship. Then, with some abruptness, he took off for Montana, and all I’d ever heard from him since was another postcard and a copy of one of his travel articles.
    Magnolia, who knew other RV people who knew him, eventually muttered that he had “commitment issues.” Frankly, I found this a bit insulting. He was afraid I wanted to wrap him in a wedding ring and apron strings? We were barely more than acquaintances!
    So now he was going to be in Missouri in a few weeks. With nothing more than a Texas postmark, no return address or other contact information, I had no way to tell him I was not in Missouri.
    Well, so much for Mac MacPherson, I thought with mixed feelings of regret and relief that I wouldn’t be seeing him and having to muddle around in awkward “commitment issues.”
    Thinking of Mac reminded me of another man back in Missouri. Jordan Kaine was a retired lawyer I’d met through mutual involvement in a vandalism situation at a rural cemetery. We’d had a brief but budding relationship that was cut short when I had to go into hiding before the murder trial, the trial that brought on the Braxtons’ thirst for vengeance.
    The phone was ringing as I unlocked the door. I started to fumble with the security alarm panel, realized guiltily that I’d forgotten to set it again, and headed for the phone.
    “Hi! May I speak to Sandy please?”
    “I’m sorry, but Sandy is gone for the week. She won’t be home until Sunday evening.”
    “Oh, I didn’t know! Skye didn’t mention it.”
    She sounded dismayed, so I said, “Could I help with anything?” “Oh, I don’t suppose so. This is Tammi Ridenour.”
    “Oh, I didn’t suppose so.This is Tammy Ridenour.”
    “Skye’s …” I hesitated momentarily and then decided not to split hairs. “Skye’s mother?”
    “Yes, that’s right!” Tammi sounded delighted with the identification, perhaps mistakenly concluding that Skye had referred to her as a mother. “Oh, you must be Aunt Ivy!”
    Tammi apparently had an oversupply of exclamation points and intended to use all of them.
    “Yes, that’s me. Ivy Malone.”
    “Skye went in to Fayetteville with Brad this afternoon. He’s trying to interest her in TV as a career. I just now decided it would be great fun to run in and surprise them so we could all have dinner together after the early news! But I need someone to sit with Baby. That’s why I was calling Sandy.”
    Maybe I was feeling adventurous. Maybe the evening ahead looked a little lonely. Maybe it was just that troublesome curiosity gene again. “I’d be happy to sit with Baby.”
    “Would you? Oh, that would be marvelous! I need to leave in about an hour and a half, so …”
    “Just give me directions to the house.”
    She did that, and then I cautiously asked, “Is there, uh, anything special I need to know or should bring for … sitting with Baby?”
    “Not that I know of.” She sounded mildly puzzled.
    “I’ve never met Baby, you know,” I said, fishing.
    “But you’ve heard all about him, I’m sure!” she said gaily and hung up before I could admit that I had no idea if Baby was animal, vegetable, or mineral.
    I speculated, of course, as I followed Tammi’s directions to 422 Hickory an hour later. Something in the animal category, surely. But perhaps on the unusual side? A monkey, maybe? Parrot? Iguana?
    The thought occurred to me that perhaps I should have pinned