Magnolia City Read Online Free Page A

confinement, but she simply wasn’t the type to sit around and do nothing. The very walls of the hotel had vibrated with dance music and, at one point, she’d looked out her window and seen revelers far below on the sidewalk, drifting into the park.
    Now, as she followed her mother and sister out into the porte cochere, Hetty looked up from under a hat that buried her face to the brow. Light streaked the white ceiling: The tropic sun of South Texas blazed off a cream-colored sports car dripping with chrome. Behind the flashing windshield, raked at a forty-five-degree angle, she spotted Garret, his face cool under a Panama hat, his eyes secretive behind sun shades.
    Joy irradiated Hetty at seeing him again, but she didn’t let it show on her face. She bowed like the lady she’d been raised to be: a faint smile on her lips, a gentle inclination of her head. Garret leaped out without opening the door and tipped his hat in their direction.
    The door of their black Packard town car swiveled open and her father’s young Negro driver, Henry Picktown Waller, waited for them to step in.
    Garret strode over. “Good morning, Mrs. Allen. I’d like to take this opportunity to present my card—Garret MacBride, ma’am.” He held out an ivory envelope. “My mother Arleen introduced me to the Welches, ma’am.”
    Nella’s gloved hands shrank into fists, then one of them fluttered open. “Well . . . if Lockett received you, I suppose . . .”
    Hetty walked down the driveway and circled Garret’s car, her fingertips sliding over the highly polished wax. She purred. The lines of the car flowed like warm cream in the mid-morning light. Garret came over.
    “Aren’t you afraid King Eddie will kick you out again?” she asked.
    “I’ll take my chances. I’ve been parked out here for two mornings now.”
    “Not looking for me? Aren’t you sweet.”
    “Just stubborn. Ready for the spin you were promised?”
    Hetty jumped in and perched atop the back of the seat, posing as the dedicated hedonist like her idol Joan Crawford in Our Modern Maidens. She squealed with delight and longed to feel the cool spring air flowing over her as they drove. “Let’s go,” she told Garret, sliding down into the passenger seat.
    Garret jumped in beside her, revved the engine, and edged past the Packard. “I’m riding with Mr. MacBride,” Hetty shouted, not giving Nella a chance to say no. They set out into the clear morning, in tandem, the Auburn leading the way. It had a luxurious leather bench, and Hetty had to squeeze rather close to Garret and move her long legs to one side so he could shift the gears. She said a prayer of thankfulness that she’d remembered to rouge her knees.
    She brushed her hat off and whispered to Garret, “Can you ditch my mom?”
    “Now don’t get me into trouble. I’m trying to get into her good graces.” He blipped the throttle. “But I could if I wanted to. When you open’er up, she’ll do eighty easy.” He tapped the dashboard, where a signed plaque certified that the car had been driven 100.2 miles per hour before shipment. He passed a couple of Model Ts along the wide boulevard of Main Street, sailing by the staring faces with that exotic hood ornament leading the way, a naked woman with wings flying before them.
    “What brings a Northwesterner like you to the sultry subtropics?” Hetty spoke into the wind.
    “Need you ask? Same thing that’s bringing thousands here. One magic little word.”
    “Rhymes with royal?”
    “How’d you know?”
    “That’s all my father talks about.”
    “My dad was in copper,” he told her. “But mining’s dead. Along with you and your cotton carnival. Yeah—we’re living in a new golden age, only it’s black gold this time. Why—look what happened at Spooltop.”
    “Spindletop,” she laughed. “I’ll have to educate you about our history.”
    Hetty could see he would need a guide to the local customs. But how could she possibly convey to an outsider