Texas fury (23 page)

"Someone's got to do the dirty work." Cole laughed. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

* * *

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Cole pulled alongside of Riley. "If you wait, we can go together. I want to get out of this suit. Ten minutes tops."

"You got it."

Riley sat in the Bronco staring up at the apartment over the garage. How long ago that all was. For a while he'd thought his life was going to be ruined. He wondered where Luana was now. And her father. Maybe Cole knew. Now his problems were even bigger and, from where he sat, insurmountable. He and Cole had shed the skins of boyhood that day when Luana accused them of raping her. They'd become young men in a matter of minutes and had remained young men. Now he had to shed that skin and become a man. A man who could take charge of Coleman Oil and his own life. Why had he put Coleman Oil first and his life second? Maybe because he could make sense out of the business, but his life was too torn and jumbled to even try to understand what he should do.

"Ready when you are," Cole said, buckling his seat belt. "I brought you an apple. Adam's a lousy cook. I hope he's going to feed us inside and not out on the patio."

"Adam's not that stupid."

"Sure he is," Cole said, biting into his apple. "Remember that time in New York when he packed sandwiches and told us we had to sit in the park to enjoy the beauty of it? If we didn't sit, we didn't get a sandwich. Egg salad, if I remember. With some kind of little seeds in it."

"Too much mayonnaise. I hate mayonnaise."

"So eat your apple. By the way, Sawyer called just as I was leaving the office. She sends her love. She really thinks I'm going to kiss you on the cheek." Cole brought Riley up-to-date on his mother and Rand. "What do you think, Riley? Is she for real?"

"What would be the point otherwise? She walked away from it. Like Sawyer said, she came, she said what she had to say, and she left. It's up to Rand to make the next move. He won't. Not now. He'll torture himself and your mother. He'll worry it like a dog with a bone."

"Biodegradable," Cole muttered as he tossed the apple core out the window. "My mother will do what she can. They were so happy."

"Yeah, she's going to shoulder Rand's burden. Look at us; if it wasn't for her, we'd be sweating it out in some federal pen or something."

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"Or something. Do you know whatever happened to Luana? Every time I look at that damn garage apartment, I wonder."

"I have no idea, and I don't want to find out, either," Riley grated.

"You hear that?"

"Chain saw." Riley raised his eyebrows. "Adam?"

"Maybe he saw it in a movie or something." Cole grinned. "Maybe he thinks if you own a ranch, you have to saw wood. He's a cartoonist," he said, as if that explained everything.

"I can't believe he's thinking about giving up his career and managing this ranch. He doesn't know the first thing about it."

"Who's going to tell him, me or you?"

"I think we should let him find out the hard way. We can send him our own brand of cartoons if things look really bad."

First came the manly handshakes, and then the bear hugs. "Jesus, you guys are all grown-up," Adam said. "Sunbridge's saviors. Kind of a ring to it. I remember when you were both little shits and Sawyer and I wet-nursed you. I'm doing it again, but no Sawyer," he said ruefully.

"Sounds like it isn't going too good."

"No. It isn't. Jeff hates it here. I was sort of hoping you two might have some kind of... I don't know what the hell I was hoping. How about a beer?"

"Best offer I've had today," Riley said, grinning and remembering his stomach—he'd have to nurse it. "Who's using the chain saw?"

"Jeff. You notice it stopped. Damn kid probably sawed off his leg. Hey, Jeff! Come here."

The boy's eyes were old, but his body was that of a gangling teenager. "Come over here. Jeff, I'd like you to meet the two guys I was telling you about."

"The two Ivy League dudes from down the road?" the boy asked.

Cole looked at Riley. "You an Ivy League dude, Riley?"

Riley frowned at Jeff. "If you don't behave yourself," he said, "Cole will hang you up on that hook over there. See it?" There was an oversize nail protruding from the patio wall.

"Gee, the Ivy League dudes are big and tough."

"Here, hang him up," Cole said.

Riley was stunned at how thin the boy was under the heavy

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flannel shirt and stiff jeans. His legs were beanstalk-thin. The worn sneakers were the only thing that seemed to go with a boy his age—a kid without worn sneakers was like a baby without a diaper. "Now you're going to get a hole in this nice new shirt."

"You bastards!" the boy screeched. "Adam, get me down!" "Behave yourself, and maybe we'll let you down for dinner," Cole assured him. "By the way, when is dinner?"

In the kitchen, Adam leaned against the sink. "Maybe I should have sent him to his aunt on Long Island, but he can't stand her, and she's not too fond of him. I'm literally all he has, and from where he sits, or rather hangs, it looks like I'm not much of a bargain. Now go get him, you guys, and let's enjoy this here-now barbecue I've been slaving over."

"That was an experience I won't soon forget," Riley said on the ride home.

"That kid makes liking him a challenge, but he's not all bad. He's just a kid, and this kind of living has to be strange to him. I think he'll adjust. That tough-guy act he pulls is just a front to mask his feelings. You and I used to do that. God forbid one of us should have known how the other one really felt. He seemed real interested in food and how it's prepared. Maybe he has the makings of a chef," Cole laughed.

Riley snorted. "The kid is real big on four-letter words. I have to hand it to Adam, he didn't blink twice. I guess it's how a parent handles things. If you make a fuss, the kid does it more. If you ignore it, maybe it won't happen again .. . that kind of thing. I told Adam he could have our old mopeds and ten-speed bikes that are in the garage. Maybe the reward system will work."

"Was I that bad back in the beginning? The truth."

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd give you a five in those days. This kid is about a three. Adam is going to have his hands full."

"Don't you mean the three of us are going to have our hands full? Didn't you see how neatly old Adam included us in? Who the hell can walk away from a kid like that and not be affected?"

"Just what we need, another problem. That dinner was awful. Let's get home and get some decent food. You cook the eggs, Cole."

"I'll flip you." Cole laughed.

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"Adam needs Sawyer's cool head for that kid. The only thing is he doesn't know it."

"Like hell he doesn't. Why do you think we were invited? We're the second string, because the first string is otherwise occupied. When the top gun arrives, we can sit back."

"I'll be damned," Riley muttered.

"Sometimes you Japs are so damn slow, and other times you're faster than the speed of sound." It was one of Cole's standard put-downs. Riley grinned.

At twelve-thirty Amelia closed her briefcase with a decisive click and left the Austin courthouse, her spirits high. If traffic permitted, she'd make it home a little before Cary was due. She'd have enough time to freshen up and perk some coffee. She'd stopped on her way to the courthouse earlier to pick up a box of the coconut macaroons that Cary liked.

Her spirits remained high as she rehearsed what she would say to Cary about her planned trip to Washington to testify before the House Select Committee on Aging. She'd made a lot of contacts, and her hard work was paying off. She told herself she had a right to be impressed with her accomplishments. What would Cary say?

Amelia felt a rush of pleasure at the thought of Cary's homecoming. He'd be in a lusty mood. She was herself, so the afternoon she planned would be wonderful. First they'd have coffee and Cary's cookies. He would tell her in great detail all about his trip, then tease her a little about the presents he bought her and make a Cecil B. De Mille production of the presentation. She'd do her bit, and Cary would be pleased with his selection, and maybe nibble at her ear. That would be a good time to tell him about her trip. He'd do his best to look interested and offer comments and suggestions and end up by saying how proud he was of her. And of course, the best part was always saved till last. She'd give him a massage with some sweet-smelling balsam oil and casually mention that the Jacuzzi was waiting for them, along with the chilled champagne. She must remember to put a bottle on ice the minute she got home. They'd make long, leisurely, wonderful love. They'd nap, make love again, and then she'd whip up some scrambled eggs and bacon and they'd eat in front of a fire. Amelia smiled.

She all but ran to the door the moment she heard Cary's key in the lock.

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"Amelia! You're home!"

"Waiting for you, darling. I'm your welcoming committee of one, and I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Cary said absently. "God, it's cold out there."

Amelia watched as he hung up his coat. Usually he threw it over the back of a chair. He geometrically aligned his briefcase on the shelf. He turned, pecked Amelia on the cheek, and walked to the bedroom. "I brought you some presents. They're in the bag. I'm going to take a shower. Do you think you could make me a sandwich or something?"

Or something. Amelia jammed her trembling hands into the pockets of her new raspberry-colored wool dress. She'd bought it just to please Cary. He loved the color and he said he liked the way the new fluted skirts swished around her legs. "I picked up some macaroons and I'll make some of that master-blend coffee you love," Amelia called to his retreating back.

"Don't bother. I'm about coffeed out. Drank too much on the plane, and my belt says no more sweets for a while. A cheese sandwich and a glass of milk will be fine. If it's not too much trouble."

Trouble? She'd milk the damn cow if necessary. So her plans were sidetracked. She'd rustle up the sandwich and have it waiting in the bedroom when Cary got out of the shower. She'd open her presents while he was still wrapped in his bath sheet. All she'd have to do was whisk it off and voila —love-making Assante-style.

Amelia marched to the kitchen. She peeled three slices of American cheese and slapped them between two pieces of white bread. She looked at the dry sandwich. Butter and mayonnaise and a leaf of lettuce would make it more palatable. She arranged the plate on a silver tray with three sprigs of parsley and some Chilean grapes. She plucked a ripe peach, also from Chile, and set it on the tray. Cary loved fresh fruit. The milk carton refused to open. In the end she had to search the drawers for scissors to cut the stiff cardboard. She poured generously into a large crystal glass. A fresh linen napkin on the tray and she was ready. She carried it gingerly across the long living room.

Tears pricked her eyes when she saw Cary sprawled across the foot of the bed. Droplets of water beaded his shoulders. He hadn't even bothered to dry off. For one brief instant Amelia wanted to dump the contents of the tray all over his

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slick body. Instead, she set it down on the dresser, covered him with an afghan, and left the room.

Amelia's hands were steady as she held them toward the fire. There were no tears in her eyes. The rest of the afternoon and the long evening yawned ahead of her. Cary would sleep for hours. Well, everyone's dreams were dashed once in a while. And there was always the never-ending pile of paperwork to be tackled. She had a new book from the book club. She could read and gorge on Godiva chocolates. She could start dinner, something that took a long time to prepare and an even longer time to cook. She could also unpack Cary's bag, or she could watch a couple of soap operas. She could call friends and catch up on the gossip or arrange a dinner party. She did have obligations to reciprocate. And if none of that appealed to her, she could go for a walk. She could even drive out to Sunbridge. Maybe it was time for a trip up to the knoll.

Amelia tiptoed into the bedroom. The raspberry dress slid to the floor and was replaced with fleece-lined sweatpants and a cashmere sweater the color of a shiny topaz. Her walking boots with the warm lining and her shearling coat made her ready for the trek to the one spot that gave her comfort.

In rapid succession she made two phone calls: one to the garage to have her car brought to the front and the second to the florist in the lobby.

Amelia's mittened hands nestled the florist's box of violets into her huge carry-all bag. It would protect the violets for the climb up the hill.

Sunbridge looked desolate in the afternoon light. She'd never found the place warm and inviting, no matter what the season. If it weren't for the small cemetery up on the knoll and family gatherings, she'd never choose to set foot on Coleman land.

Amelia picked her way carefully as she searched for the path that led to the knoll. Medallions of ice and patches of crusty snow crunched under her boots.

It was bitter cold now, the wind whipping angrily through the naked, arthritic trees. She gasped, thankful that she was almost at the clearing.

Breathing hard, she leaned against her father's headstone. Defiantly, she sat down on the base of the stone. Her mother's smaller marker was next to it, a florist's vase in shards at its foot. Someone in the family hadn't forgotten Jessica. Cole probably.

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It was as desolate here as down on the path. The ground was frozen, with bits and pieces of twigs and old leaves sticking out every which way. She was having trouble breathing. Maybe it wasn't just the climb but the anxiety over Cary's return. Coming here today, she decided, wasn't one of her better ideas. She'd be here soon enough anyway, she thought grimly.

Amelia pulled the scarf from around her neck to cover her mouth. When her breathing returned to normal, she reached into her bag for the violets. The delicate petals would crystallize in seconds in the frigid air.

Now it was time to talk, time to unburden herself.

"It's happening, Mam. I'm not ready. Thinking about something and actually doing it are two different things. It hit me between the eyes, Mam. Handpicking my successor for Cary was just a whim I had, at first. I don't have a right to do that, and I never would have except that Julie Kingsley was so perfect. I was going to arrange everything, but if I'm going to be truthful, I can't go through with it. Not now. It would have been better if it had happened after... when I'm here with you.