Texas rich (16 page)

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they were married. He shared his dreams of owning the biggest, grandest spread in all of Texas, and she had known that he would claw it out of the bare earth. Once she had thought he had wanted it for her. Now she knew better. He had wanted it for himself, just as he wanted her refmement and respectability. She had given it gladly, thinking she would receive love and tenderness in return.

She could have done so much better, her family had told her. Carl Bowdrie from the Austin bank had wanted her almost as much as Seth. But there hadn't been the challenge in Carl's eyes that there was in Seth's.

Living with her parents hadn't prepared her for a life with Seth Coleman. Her father had been a gentleman with a classical education and a small family fortune. Her mother had been a lady. They hadn't been rich, merely comfortable. Life had been pleasant—filled with affection, genuine affection and love— and simple: church suppers, quiet dinner parties with well-bred people carrying on intelligent conversations, good wine, delicately prepared food, discreet service.

She'd never gotten used to the shindigs Seth threw. Raw whiskey, beer by the keg, and the "wheeling-dealing," as Seth called it; that was the underlying reason. Things had changed recently, though. Instead of raw whiskey there was champagne and the wheeler-dealers had somewhere come by parlor manners. But underneath it was all the same, attended by the same people for the same reasons: money.

Just once she had asked Seth for something that had been important to her. She'd wanted to keep the house she'd inherited from her parents. She would have been able to go there, to escape to her girlhood home with her children and show them that not all of life was focused on one man's personality and wealth. But this had been denied her. Seth had refused her request, had taken it all away from her. Just as he'd taken her children.

She had been a young debutante when she'd met Seth. Now she was an old lady living in a monstrous house she detested, with a man who didn't care if she took the next breath.

Jessica reached out and took Billie's hand in her own, wishing she could impart the strength she herself had never possessed. "You have to be strong, Billie," she whispered. "Not tough, strong. There's a difference."

Just before they turned into the drive Jessica shook her

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lightly. "Wake up, Billie. I thought you'd like to get your first glimpse of Moss's home—Sunbridge."

Billie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked through the split windshield of the Colemans' Packard. They passed under a high wooden arch that was emblazoned with the name "Sunbridge." Miles of white rail fencing stretched into the distance. Tall oak trees lined the winding drive and on either side were expanses of bright green lawn with sprinklers pulsing rhythmically.

Billie felt as though they were journeying through a tunnel of dappled green. Far up the drive, bright daylight shone, and when they achieved the final turn the house came into view.

Sitting upon a gently sloping rise, the great house basked beneath the blue Texas sky and was caressed by the sun. Billie thought, as they came out from under the dark of the trees, that only here, in this place called Sunbridge, could the sun seem so warm and golden.

The house was a three-story brick of the palest pink, flanked by two wings, which were also three-storied but set back several feet from the main body. This expanse of prairie rose was accented by white columns that supported the roof of the verandah sweeping the entire frontage. A multipaned fan light crested the huge double front door and the design was repeated again over each window on the top floor. Ornamental topiary trees and crepe myrtle hugged the foundation, and surrounding the house was a magnificent rose garden complete with trellises and statuary. Billie gasped with awe. "Moss never told me about Sunbridge. He just called it a spread!"

Jessica laughed. "How like Moss. Sunbridge is a spread; it spreads over two hundred and fifty thousand acres. We raise thoroughbreds and thousands of head of cattle. They're kept on the back acres, and other, smaller ranches are commissioned by Seth for breeding. But this is only a small part of the •Coleman holdings and business interests. Seth built all of this himself." Jessica sounded proud but Billie noticed a sadness in her eyes.

'The name Sunbridge fits it so well," Billie said.

"Yes. When Seth first saw the land he says he felt as though he could almost reach up and touch the sun. He came from very dark beginnings*, Billie, and building this place was a major achievement for him. He hoped that a great house upon this rise would bridge his past with what he wanted for the future. Seth's not a romantic, not by any means, but the name

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of Sunbridge was entirely his own conception." The sadness had remained in Jessica's eyes, and as though to break herself from her solemn thoughts she forced a smile in Billie's direction. "We'Jl get you inside, Billie, where it's much cooler. Then I'll have the housekeeper fix something for you. I know you're not feeling well, so I'll spare you a formal introduction to the servants."

At the front portico Carlo opened the door for them and tipped his hat. Jessica gave him instructions concerning the baggage. The ethereal grace of the rose garden and the feminine sweep of the clematis vine surrounding the heavy oak doors did nothing to prepare Billie for the inside of the house. Shining oaken floors, massive beams studding the ceilings, thick dark Oriental carpets, and man-sized leather fiamiture. As Jessica took her on a tour of the downstairs rooms, it was easy for Billie to imagine them filled with smoke and noisy with deep masculine voices and thudding high-heeled cowboy boots. Panoramic paintings filled the walls, all of them depicting burly, tanned men at some masculine endeavor: branding steers, breaking horses, riding the range. It seemed that Jessica's feminine influence stopped in the gardens. The great house of Sunbridge was Seth Coleman's domain and every detail of the furnishings stated that fact.

"Come upstairs, Billie," Jessica said. "We've opened the second floor of the east wing for you and Agnes, and of course for Moss when he comes home. I hope you'll like what I've done with your room."

Here Jessica had exerted her influence. Pastel-colored walls, vases of fresh flowers, lighter, feminine furnishings. Billie's own bedroom was larger than the entire downstairs of the house on Elm Street. Soft mint-green silk moire covered the walls, while pinks and golds were used for the draperies and bedspread. A luxurious carpet in a soft green-and-beige pattern quieted footsteps.

"It's such a large house," Billie said with wonder. "Our house back in Philadelphia could fit in this one at least six times. You don't try to keep it up yourself, do you?"

"My, no! The rose garden alone would put me under." Jessica laughed lightly. "There's Carlo, whom you've met. He chauffeurs and acts as a general handyman about the house. He's married to Tita, our cook, and he does the shopping for her, as well as other errands. Besides Tita, there are two or three other young Mexicans who come in for general cleaning

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and laundry. Then there are the stablehands and of course JuHo, our gardener. Sunbridge supports quite a few people, Billie. Ever since Amelia—that's Moss's sister, you know—left for England, I'm quite grateful for female companionship. And now that you and your mother are here, I couldn't be more delighted. I want us to be friends, Billie. More than that, I'd like it if you learned to think of me as a second mother, if it's possible."

Billie was so heart-touched that she found herself rising above her initial shyness and stepping into Jessica's outstretched arms. "Moss loves you very much," she whispered, "and I know I'm going to love you, too."

Jessica's eyes were bright with tears. "It's going to be so good to have you here, child. And a baby on the way! Sunbridge has been lonely without young people and children. Now off to bed with you. I can imagine how nice it will be to be in a bed that isn't rocking back and forth."

During her first days at Sunbridge, Billie kept very much to her room. A stationary bed did not work its prescribed miracle. Billie still teetered on the edge of nausea for most of the day, and when she didn't, she was so exhausted from retching that she confined herself to the bedroom. Jessica fussed and fretted over her. Billie had never felt more loved than by this gentle white-haired mother-in-law, who spent hours with her to keep her from being lonely. Everything about Moss's mother was kind, gentle, considerate. Billie saw very little of Agnes during this time except for morning and evening visits, when she regaled Billie with her observations of Sunbridge. Agnes was very busy these days, familiarizing herself with every detail of the Colemans' house and family history.

One morning when Agnes came to sit with Billie over a cup of tea, Billie mentioned how helpful and concerned Jessica was. "Well, she should be," Agnes stated flatly, fussing with her ever-present rope of pearls. "After all, you are going to bring her first grandchild into the world."

Billie blinked and stared at Agnes. This was going to be her mother's first grandchild, also.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking, Billie, and you're wrong. I'm delighted about the baby and I do worry about you. It's just that.. .well, I'm much younger than Jessica, you must realize. I haven't really adjusted to the thought of becoming a grandmother. I feel as though a whole new world has opened up for us and I'm determined to explore it. You understand,

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don't you, dear." It wasn't a question but a statement. "Besides, I mustn't be selfish. I've had a lovely daughter and Jessica hasn't been quite so lucky with Amelia. You've never given me a day's trouble, but, from what I understand. Moss's sister has been quite a hellcat, rebellious since the day she was bom. Certainly not the kind of daughter that brings a mother gratification."

"But Jessica loves Ameha dearly!" Billie exclaimed.

"Of course she does—Amelia is her daughter. But from what I gather, Amelia's ninning off to England was more to get out of a rather nasty scrape here than from any display of patriotism. Besides," Agnes added, lowering her voice, "we all know what kind of girls join the military, don't we?"

"Amelia didn't 'nin off to England, Mother; she was assigned there," said Biliie. "She joined the Women's Army Corp right here in Texas and the WACs are important to the war effort. I just hope you never hurt Jessica by insinuating anything else."

Agnes inteniipted with a change of subject. "Has Seth come to see you this morning?"

"Yes, he did, but I don't think he likes me, Mother."

"Don't be silly, and don't you antagonize Seth, Billie. He's simply a very autocratic man and autocratic men fmd it very difficult to show affection."

At this, Billie raised her eyebrows. "And did you learn this from the same person who told you about Ameha? I find it strange that you'd defend Seth and at the same time be critical of Jessica."

"I wasn't being critical, just observant." Agnes placed her cup and saucer back on Billie's breakfast tray and then stood up, smoothing her nisset silk dress.

"Isn't that a new dress. Mother?"

"Yes, and don't you think it's the perfect color for me? It's been so long since I've had anything as nice as this and there are several more on order. The sale of the house should go through anytime now, so I'm not afraid to dip into my savings, just a bit."

Billie, who had an eye for fabric and fashion, realized that it had taken more than a bit of dipping to buy this dress. She looked at her mother objectively. There were subtle changes about Agnes.... She seemed more polished and put together, somehow. Was it that she was wearing more makeup these days? Or was it just being here at Sunbridge that put color in

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her cheeks and a glow in her eyes? Billie sighed. She supposed she'd been selfish. She hadn't noticed the strain her mother had been under for so many years to provide for both of them. Now mundane worries like taxes and grocery bills were no° longer her concern.

"You look wonderful, Mother," Billie said.

"I wish I could say the same for you, Billie. Why, you're positively haggard—no wonder Seth doesn't like to come up to visit! When are you going to get out of that bed and come downstairs? The Texas sun is wonderful and at least it would help you get rid of that sickroom pallor. Pregnancy isn't a disease, you know, Billie!"

"I do get out of bed." Tears came unbidden to Billie's eyes. She cried so easily these days. And she was always so sleepy when she wasn't sick.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't cry. I didn't mean to upset you." Agnes was halfway to the bed to embrace Billie when she remembered her silk dress. Even one tear would stain it beyond repair. "It's only that I worry about you. Perhaps you can go down and sit on the verandah. That wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"No, I suppose not." Billie lay back against her pillows. The tea she sipped was roiling tlu-ough her stomach and she recognized the signal. Agnes also recognized the green tinge to Billie's complexion.

"I'll be downstairs, Billie. Call if you need me," Agnes said over her shoulder as she made a hasty exit.

During the second week at Sunbridge, when Billie was feeling no better, she resentfully surrendered to Seth's authority. He arranged a series of tests at the hospital in Austin. Dr. Adam Ward became Billie's physician on call. What this meant, Seth explained, was that he was available for the slightest problem. If even a headache lasted more than an hour or two, Adam was to be summoned. It was an order. Billie nodded her compliance. Later Agnes told Billie that the entire third floor wing of the hospital had been donated by the Colemans and it was there that the baby would be bom. The Coleman heir.

Dr. Ward prescribed vitamins for Billie and a daily regimen of diet and exercise. There were to be twice-weekly vitamin B injections as well, which the doctor administered himself at Sunbridge. That a busy physician would drive the forty-plus

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miles from Austin was her first realization of Seth Coleman's clout. In Philadelphia, a doctor made house calls only if his patient was completely unable to make the trip to his office.