CHAPTER NINETEEN

The second day's session went the way Tess expected. Casey's voice blended with the others so well that there was never a question she was the right choice. When they all sang together it clicked. Tess could tell by catching the eyes of Diane and Estelle that they, too, liked what they heard. When the song ended Diane said with engaging sassiness, "Whoa, you cook, girl!"

With the approval of Jack and Ralph, Tess asked Casey right there in the studio if she wanted to go on tour, starting at the end of June, it was fun watching her face suffuse with shock.

"You're kidding," she said. "Me?"."Yes, you."

"But… but why?"

"Because you know my music. Because your voice blends. And because you're easy to get along with."

Casey dropped onto a chair, and whispered, "Holy shit."

And so began one of the busiest months of Tess's life. June was traditionally a wild month in Nashville anyway, kicking off with the Summer Lights festival-a three-day street fair down by the capitol-and a celebrity Softball tournament at Greer Stadium. Then came the TNN Music

City News Awards, followed by the most intense week of contact with fans to happen anywhere in the world, namely Fan Fair, when twenty-four thousand of them paid admission into the Tennessee State Fairgrounds to pay homage to their idols at close range, at booths set up in the cattle barns; to shake their hands, have snapshots taken with them, bring them homemade pies, tell them their babies were named after them, buy T-shirts, caps, coffee mugs, and albums, and have all these moneymakers signed, signed, signed!

There were times during Fan Fair when Tess did nine or ten radio interviews a day, plus a three-hour stint at her own booth and sometimes another at the label's booth. There were also newspaper and TV interviews, autograph-ings at record stores and, of course, some performing. She lost track of how many times a DJ with a tape recorder stuck a microphone in her face, and asked her to say "Hi everyone! This is Tess McPhail coming to you from KMPS, Seattle!" Or perhaps he was from Tulsa, or Albuquerque or Sweetwater, Oklahoma. Wherever the DJs were from, during Fan Fair, when they asked you to give them a recorded message to take back home to your fans, you did it. There were meetings with fan club leaders from all over America, even special awards for some of them, dinners with disk jockeys, and special get-togethers with managers of record shops.

It was a grueling week, but Casey stayed beside Tess through its entirety, and Tess was grateful to have her there. She ran errands, brought cold Cokes, sold T-shirts, made phone calls, took snapshots with the cameras the fans handed her so they could have their picture taken with Tess. But most importantly, she smiled through it all and brought along her boundless energy to lift Tess's spirits when, at the end of an eighteen-hour day, the overworked star wanted nothing so badly as to cry with weariness.

For Casey it was novel, exciting. Every new experience was reason for rejoicing: she was getting a firsthand look at the hard work of being a country music star, and deciding it was definitely what she wanted for herself.

When Fan Fair ended, concert rehearsals began.

Mac's stage show was an extravaganza of lights, costumes and equipment requiring a dozen semitrailers to haul it all, and fifty employees to make it work, as well as another twenty local hands in each concert venue. Everybody worked hard preparing for the tour, and Casey was no exception. Since time was tight and workdays long, she continued to live at Tess's house.

She called her father every night, or he called her, and at the end of each conversation he asked to speak to Tess. Often the two of them were on the line longer than he'd been with his own daughter, and it seemed they never lacked for things to talk about.

He told her about his business.

She told him about hers.

He talked about the church choir.

She talked about the concert rehearsals.

He kept his eye on Mary.

She kept her eye on Casey.

He said he'd ordered a new car.

She said she'd ordered her road manager to set aside three tickets in the gold circle for him and Faith and her momma, for the concert in Anaheim, even though Mary hadn't committed yet. Then she asked, "You're coming, aren't you?"

He paused a telltale beat before answering, "Yes… I'm coming."

Her breath seemed in short supply and the one thing she wanted to say was much too significant. She said it anyway.

"What about Faith?"

"I haven't asked Faith."

"You haven't?"

"No."

"Why?"

During the long pause before he spoke again, they felt the leap of awareness that signals change. At his end of the wire Kenny leaned back against the kitchen counter, staring down his legs. At her end she was lying on top of her bedspread, staring at her index finger lying motionless in a curl of the phone cord. Both of them were reliving the night of the wedding reception. His voice, when he finally answered, was slightly gruffer, slightly quieter.

"I think you know, Tess," he said.

A long silence passed, filled with the intimacy of the unspoken. It was the first moment they seemed to run out of things to say.

Finally he said, "Tess?" as if she might have gone somewhere.

"I'm glad," she admitted.

Then she heard him release a breath as if he'd been suffocating, too.

Plans began racing through her head. "I'll get you rooms at the Beverly Wilshire, where Casey and I will be staying. It's an hour's ride in to L.A. from Anaheim, but I want to show you Rodeo Drive and take Momma to lunch at Ivy-if I can get her to say she'll come-and buy you something exquisite at Battaglia. I'll have my road manager take care of everything-limos, tickets, backstage passes, everything. Kenny, I'm so happy."

"So am I," he said. "And I'll work on Mary."

"Yes, do. Well, listen… it's late."

"Yeah."

"I guess we should say good night, shouldn't we?"

"Yes, we should."

"Well… good night then."

"Good night."

"Kenny, wait!"

He waited. "I'm here."

"About Faith…" She felt obliged to add, "Just make sure."

"I'm sure."

"All right, then. See you soon."

"Good night again."

" 'Night, Kenny."

At last they hung up, reluctantly, as always.

The days flew between then and the Anaheim concert. Tess spoke to her mother almost daily, trying to convince her to come with Kenny. Mary kept saying, "Well, I'll see how my hip feels. That's a long plane ride, you know."

"Momma, please?"

"Well, Tess, now, I told you, I'll just have to see." She was still saying the same thing the day Tess headed for L.A. on her private Hawker-Sidley jet, taking Casey with her, because she was still having fun thrilling the kid and showing her what her future could hold if she worked hard enough and got the big breaks.

On the night before Kenny flew to L.A., he and Faith were scheduled to play cards, their regular Thursday-night game. The bridge group had met at Faith's house, and Kenny had played poorly. Though Faith had not chided him, sometimes she'd looked up over her cards with wry disapproval at his absentmindedness, bitten the inside of her lip and stared at him corrosively. At ten o'clock she served warm peach pie a la mode and by ten forty-five everybody had left except Kenny. He was helping her clean up the kitchen and put away the card table and folding chairs. He stuck the four metal chairs behind the coats in her small entry closet and returned to the kitchen to find her storing away her good forks and spoons in a silverware chest. He picked up a stack of dessert plates and put them in the cupboard.

"Kenny," she said, examining each fork before putting it in the velvet-lined box. "Maybe we should talk about this mistake you're making."

"Mistake?"

"I wasn't born yesterday, Kenny. I know why you didn't ask me to come along to L.A. with you." She shut the silver chest and looked at him, her hands curled over the edges of the box.

"She's sending me the tickets, Faith, and there are only two."

"Kenny… please," she said, as if he'd insulted her intelligence. She carried the chest away into another room and he waited, chastised, for her return. She came back removing an apron, opened a drawer, tucked it away, then stood looking down at the drawer instead of at him.

"I guess I realized it within two weeks after she got home. I know you well enough that I could tell the minute you started to fall for her. But, Kenny, think…" She turned to him, slightly imploring, resting one hand on the cabinet top. "What is she going to do with you when it's over?"

He thought for a moment, and answered honestly, "I don't know."

His admission of guilt, coming so soon, quite stunned Faith. Her expression flattened and her chin drew back an inch. She had expected him to deny any involvement with Tess. When he did the opposite, it left an emotional gap in the room.

Faith said, "You're willing to give up everything we have to pursue this hopeless affair?"

"Everything we have? What do we have, Faith?"

"We have eight years of loyalty!" she replied, sounding a little panicked. "At least, I've been loyal to you."

"And how many times have we talked about getting married, and how many times have we both decided not to?"

"I thought you liked our situation the way it's been."

"We've become a convenience for each other, admit it, Faith."

"Well, what's wrong with that?" she snapped, irritated.

He hung his head and wobbled it from side to side without answering.

She moved a step closer, her hand still extended on the countertop. "I don't want to lose you, Kenny. And that's what will happen if you go to L.A. and go to bed with that woman again."

He showed a first hint of anger. "Let's get one thing straight, Faith. I've never been to bed with her."

"No, but you're planning on it, aren't you?" When he refused to answer she demanded, louder, "Aren't you!"

"Faith, did you ever stop to think that we've been head-ing toward this day for eight years, and neither one of us could find the courage to end it? I don't want to be a seventy-year-old man who's been dating you for half of his life. Don't you realize how ridiculous that would be?"

She retracted her hand and straightened her spine. "Well, I can see you're not going to change your mind." She crossed the room and switched off the overhead fluorescent light, leaving a smaller one on over the sink.

"No," he said quietly, remaining where he was. "I'm not."

"You're going out there, and you're… you're going to start an affair with her."

"I think I love her, Faith."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she retorted in the most disparaging voice she'd ever used on him.

"You think I'm ridiculous?"

"Believing she'd fall in love with you? Doesn't that sound a little ridiculous, Kenny? A woman like that-rich and famous-how can you help but suspect her motives?"

Faith was not by nature a cruel person, but her remarks cut deeply. Did she see him as a man who would have no permanent value to another woman, especially one like Tess McPhail?

Faith continued badgering him. "And have you stopped to ask yourself why she's taken such a sudden interest in Casey, if she might be using Casey to get her hooks into you? It sure looks like it, doesn't it?" She paused a beat for effect. "So when she's done with you, will she be done with Casey, too? Oh, Kenny, don't you realize how that girl could get hurt? She's fallen under Tess McPhail's spell even harder than you have."

Anger boiled up in him suddenly. He kept it under tight control as he told her, "You know, Faith, you and I have been together all these years and hardly ever had a fight… but you're really pissing me off right now. So before I say something I'll regret, I'm getting out of here." He headed for the door, informing her over his shoulder, "I'm going to L.A. tomorrow and I'll be there for three days. Maybe while I'm gone you should take your extra clothes out of my house and leave the spare key on the kitchen table."

She watched him in stupefaction as he broadsided her screen door with both hands and let it slam behind him.

"Kenny!" she called, bolting after him. "Kenny, wait!"

Outside she changed her mind about chasing him down the sidewalk and stopped on the steps, bent urgently toward his disappearing form as it was swallowed by the night shadows. "Kenny, please, can't we talk about this? Don't go."

"I have to, Faith," he called without turning back.

"Kenny, this is silly! We can't end it like this without even talking about it!"

"The neighbors are going to hear you, Faith. Go on back inside."

Some time later, when he'd driven away and left her standing on the steps pleading, she wandered inside feeling dazed and somewhat dizzy with the sudden shift her life had taken in such a few short minutes. She should have let him go without saying a word. Should have let him fly off to L.A. and get it out of his system without ever finding out she suspected.

Touching her lips, she looked around the kitchen as if searching for something. But everything was in its place, everything put away neatly, everything in order.

"Oh, Kenny," she whispered, wilting back till her hip bumped the cabinets. "You're going to get so hurt." But what she really meant was I'm going to get so hurt.

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