Sandra Brown - Rainwater

Smash Cut

Smoke Screen

Play Dirty

Chill Factor

Ricochet

White Hot

Hello, Darkness

The Crush

Envy

The Switch

Standoff

The Alibi

Unspeakable

Fat Tuesday

Exclusive

The Witness

Charade

Where Theres Smoke

French Silk

Breath of Scandal

Mirror Image

Best Kept Secrets

Slow Heat in Heaven

SANDRA BROWN

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2009 by Sandra Brown Management Ltd.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Simon & Schuster Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition November 2009

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Designed by Nancy Singer

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brown, Sandra.
Rainwater: a novel / Sandra Brown. 1st Simon & Schuster hardcover ed.
p. cm.
1. BoardinghousesFiction. 2. City and town lifeTexasFiction. 3. Dust Bowl
Era, 19311939Fiction. 4. TexasSocial conditions20th centuryFiction.
I. Title.
PS3552.R718R35 2009
813.54dc22
2009032123

ISBN 978-1-4391-7277-3

ISBN 978-1-4391-7613-9 (ebook)

To Daddy who inspired the story,
and to Mop who inspired me.

I wrote Rainwater between two books under contract. I worked on it when I had the time, and became homesick for it when I didnt. None of my business associates knew that I was writing it until it was finished. Because it is so different from what Ive been writing for the past twenty years, I submitted it with a great deal of trepidation, unsure how it would be received.

For their enormously gratifying response to the story and the possibilities it represented, I have these people to thank: Rainwaters first reader, my husband Michael Brown; my agent Maria Carvainis; my editor Marysue Rucci; publishers Carolyn Reidy, David Rosenthal, and Louise Burke; associate publisher Aileen Boyle; publicity director Tracey Guest; and all the other personnel at Simon & Schuster and Pocket Books who have put their energy and enthusiasm into seeing this book published.

Sandra Brown

By any chance, is your pocket watch for sale?

The old man raised his head. The woman asking about his watch was leaning across the glass display case separating them. Inside the case were snuffboxes, hatpins, razors with bone handles, saltcellars with their dainty sterling silver spoons, and various pieces of jewelry recently acquired at an estate sale.

But the womans focus was on his watch.

He guessed the woman and her husband to be in their mid-forties. To them the gold timepiece probably looked dapper and quaint, Rockwellian. The couple were dressed in the preppy fashion of country club members. Both were trim and tanned, and they looked good together, as though they had come as a set, the man as handsome as his wife was attractive.

They had arrived in a sleek SUV, which looked out of place on the dusty gravel parking lot in front of the antiques store. In the half hour theyd been there, several items in his inventory had attracted their interest. The things they had decided to purchase were of good quality. As their appearances indicated, they had discriminating taste.

The old man had been listing the items on a sales receipt when his customer posed the question about his pocket watch. He laid a protective hand over it where it rested against his vest and smiled. No, maam. I couldnt part with my watch.

She had the confidence of a pretty woman who was accustomed to beguiling people with her smile. Not for any price? You dont see pocket watches like that these days. The new ones look well, new. Shininess makes them appear phony and cheap, doesnt it? A patina, like that on yours, gives it character.

Her husband, whod been browsing the bookshelves, joined them at the counter. Like his wife, he leaned across the display case to better inspect the watchs workmanship. Twenty-four-karat gold?

I would imagine so, although Ive never had it appraised.

Id take it without having it appraised, the man said.

I wouldnt consider selling it. Sorry. The shopkeeper bent over the case and continued to painstakingly write up their purchases. Some days the arthritis in his knuckles made handwriting difficult, but what place did a computer have in an antiques store? Besides, he distrusted them.

He did the arithmetic the old-fashioned way, carrying over the two and arriving at his total. With tax, it comes to three hundred sixty-seven dollars and forty-one cents.

Sounds fair enough. The man pinched a credit card out of a small alligator wallet and slid it across the top of the case. Add two bottles of Evian, please. He went to the sleek refrigerated cabinet with a glass door. It had no place in an antiques store, either, but thirsty browsers stayed to browse longer if drinks were available, so the refrigerator was the shopkeepers one small concession to modernity.

On the house, he told his customer. Help yourself.

Thats awfully nice of you.

I can afford it, he told them with a smile. This is my biggest single sale of the weekend.

The man took two bottles of water from the refrigerator and passed one to his wife, then signed the credit card receipt. Do you get a lot of traffic off the interstate?

The store owner nodded. People whore in no particular hurry to get where theyre going.

We noticed your billboard, the woman said. It caught our attention, and, on the spur of the moment, we decided to take the exit.

The rental on that billboard is expensive as all get-out. Im glad to know its working. He began carefully wrapping their purchases in sheets of tissue paper.

The man took a look around the shop, glanced out at the parking lot, which was empty except for his own gas guzzler, and asked, somewhat doubtfully, Do you do a good business?

Fair to middling. The stores more a hobby than anything. It keeps me active, keeps my mind sharp. Gives me something to do in my retirement.

What line of work were you in?

Textiles.

Were antiques always an interest? the woman asked.

No, he admitted sheepishly. Like most things in life, thishe raised his hands to indicate the shopcame about unexpectedly.