Best Kept Secrets by Sandra Brown
One
It wasn't so much the cockroach that made her scream as the
chipped fingernail. The cockroach was small. The chip was
a dilly. On her manicured nail it looked as deep and jagged
as the Grand Canyon.
Alex swatted at the cockroach with the laminated card that
displayed the motel's limited room service menu. The reverse
side advertised the Friday night Mexican buffet and The Four
Riders, a country and western band currently performing in
the Silver Spur Lounge nightly from seven till midnight.
Her swipe at the cockroach missed by a mile and it scuttled
for cover behind the wood veneer dresser. "I'll get you
later."
She found a nail file in the bottom of the cosmetic case
she had been about to unpack when the metal clasp had
wrecked her fingernail and the cockroach had come out to
inspect the new tenant of room 125. The room was located
on the ground floor of the Westerner Motel, three doors down
from the ice and vending machines.
Once the nail had been repaired, Alex gave herself one
last, critical look in the dresser mirror. It was important that
she make a stunning first impression. They would be astonished
when she told them who she was, but she wanted to
create an even stronger impact.
She wanted to leave them stupefied, speechless, and defenseless.
They would undoubtedly make comparisons. She couldn't
prevent that; she just didn't want to come out on the short
end of then' mental measuring sticks. If she could help it,
they would find no flaws in Celina Gaither's daughter.
She had carefully chosen what to wear. Everything--
clothes, jewelry, accessories--was in excellent taste. The
overall effect was tailored but not severe, smart but not trendy;
she exuded an aura of professionalism that didn't compromise
her femininity.
Her goal was to impress them first, then surprise them with
what had brought her to Purcell.
Until a few weeks ago, the town of thirty thousand had
been a lonely dot on the Texas map. As many jackrabbits
and horned toads lived there as people. Recently, town business
interests had generated news, but on a comparatively
small scale. By the time Alex's job was done, she was certain
Purcell would capture newspaper headlines from El Paso to
Texarkana.
Concluding that nothing about her appearance could be
improved upon short of an act of God or very expensive
plastic surgery, she shouldered her handbag, picked up her
eel attache case, and, making certain she had her room key,
closed the door to room 125 behind her.
During the drive downtown, Alex had to creep through
two school zones. Rush hour in Purcell began when school
dismissed. Parents transported their children from school to
dentists' offices, piano lessons, and shopping centers. Some
might even have been going home, but the sluggish traffic
and clogged intersections indicated that no one was staying
indoors that day. She didn't actually mind the stop-and-go
traffic. The delays gave her an opportunity to gauge the personality
of the town.