Texas Sunrise (25 page)

He was dead before he was tossed in the air like a rag doll, then down into the deep culvert alongside the road, thirty feet from the telephone booth, his hand still on the door handle.

The driver looked into his rearview mirror, knowing he'd ripped the door off the pickup. “Damn fool deserves to lose his door,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Isaac stirred restlessly in Val's arms. She too stirred with the strange movement. Her eyes popped open to meet those of the spaniel. How warm he was, how soft and cuddly. But she groaned when she realized the dog needed to be walked. “Poor little thing,” she crooned as she struggled from her nest in the pillows.

“Okay, Isaac, I know my duty. I'll get my shoes, and we'll head for the nearest fire plug.” When she returned wearing her sneakers, she was in time to see Isaac lift his leg on the dining room table leg. “Guess that takes care of that,” she whooped, but made no move to clean it up. She squatted down next to the dog, certain he was going to communicate with her in some way. “Don't you have to do something else? Or do you do that at night?” The dog stared at her unblinkingly. Val stared back. “Okay, how about breakfast? Chicken and noodles. Come on, I'll put it on fine china, howzat?”

Val busied herself in the kitchen, dicing chicken thighs and chopped noodles per Elliot's written instructions. When Isaac's food was ready, she slid it into the microwave oven for forty-five seconds, then transferred the mess from the plastic bowl onto the Lenox plate and tested the food with her index finger to see if it was warm enough. Satisfied, she looked around for the dog. She called him and then whistled. “Hey, Isaac, breakfast time!” When the dog still didn't appear, she walked through the dining room and on into the sunken living room. She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. The papers she'd stacked so neatly the night before were haphazardly arranged on the floor where a rather large pile of poop could be seen. Isaac was trying to hide under the glass-topped table, his head between his paws.

Val squatted down again. “I applaud ingenuity in all forms,” she said as she tickled the dog behind his ears. She leaned sideways to peer at the mess of papers. The brown stuff was on her resignation letter. She laughed, a strange sound even to her ears. She scooped up the spaniel and carried him to the kitchen. “Good boy,” she said, patting the dog's rump as she set him down next to the Lenox dish.

Reassured by Val's tone of voice and gentle hand, Isaac lapped at his food, his long silky ears swishing among the noodles.

While Isaac ate, Val showered and dressed in a soft peach-colored suit and a peach and white polka dot blouse with a demure bow at the neck. She took one last look in the mirror to check her subtle makeup and the French braid she'd become addicted to of late. She padded out to the kitchen, where she proceeded to repack Isaac's gear. “C'mere,” she said to the spaniel. Brush in hand, she ran it down the dog's back before she threw it into the bag. She looked at the red, white, and blue toothbrush and muttered, “No way.” She did, however, moisten a paper towel and wipe the dog's ears and whiskers. At the door she looked down at the spaniel and said, “I think—mind you, this is just my opinion—but I think you got me through the worst night of my life. You are the only one besides myself who has ever set foot in this apartment. Of course, Rand doesn't count, and neither does the cleaning lady. You are the first
invited
guest, and it doesn't matter if you have four legs or two.” Isaac tilted his silky head to the side. He appeared to be listening intently to every word. She was stunned a moment later when the dog leaped into her arms, almost knocking her backward. His little pink tongue lapped at her chin. She cuddled him, her eyes as wet as the spaniel's.

“Time to go home,” she said.

She carried the dog, inching the shopping bag ahead of her with her leg. The moment her neighbor opened the door, Isaac leaped to the floor. “Thanks, Elliot.” To the dog she said, “See you around, Isaac.” She was halfway to her apartment when Elliot called to her.

“Are you going to do it?”

Val stopped. “Do what?”

“Get a dog.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I am,” she said, and then muttered under her breath, “at some point.”

Back in her apartment, Val wrinkled her nose as she walked past the brown lump on the floor. She made no move to clean it up. She slid her feet into beige Ferragamo heels, always the last thing she did before leaving for work. Briefcase in hand, she headed for the door. She was not in the habit of looking back. This apartment was just a place to sleep. It wasn't a home. It could never be a home. Susan had a home. The Colemans had assorted homes. Maggie and Rand had a home.

Maggie.

Val stopped at the door, set the briefcase down, and retraced her steps to the kitchen, where she picked up the white phone on the wall. She tapped out the area code for Hawaii information, then scribbled the number on a pad on the counter. With a trembling hand she pushed the eleven buttons it took to reach Hawaii. She held her breath, wondering if Maggie would answer or if she'd let her answering machine take the call. Maggie's recorded voice startled Val.

“Maggie, this is Valentine Mitchell,” Val said briskly. “I have something to say to you, and I want you to listen to me. Rand came by last evening and told me what you . . . what happened between the two of you. You're wrong, Maggie. Nothing happened. Rand was and always has been a perfect gentleman.” The lie was like a lump of peanut butter in her throat. “I thought you knew me well enough to know I would never in any way compromise your family. I also want you to know I am severing my firm's business relationship with the Colemans. In fact, I'm selling the firm and planning to go into semiretirement. Don't for one minute read anything into this statement but what it is. I want a life outside the legal profession, and I just hope it isn't too late for me. Well, that's all I called to say. If I don't see you again, Maggie, enjoy that paradise you live in. And if you doubt what I've said, ask yourself if I've ever done anything but my very best for your family, or if I've ever lied to any of you. 'Bye, Maggie.”

The peanut butter was back in her throat. Her thumb shot upward. “That's one for you, Val,” she croaked as she made her way to the door.

 

It was exactly eight o'clock when Val's secretary poked her head in the door and stage whispered, “Riley Coleman is here. What should I tell him?”

Val's mind raced as she looked around her cluttered office. “Send him in,” she said in a resigned voice.

How handsome he is, she thought when Riley entered the messy room.

“Riley, we didn't have an appointment, did we?” Val asked cheerfully.

Riley didn't respond. Instead he held out a white envelope with the firm's name engraved at the top. “Would you mind explaining this?” he said, tossing the envelope on her desk.

“There's not much to explain, Riley. I decided I've had enough of the rat race. I want to wind down and have a life of my own. I'm sorry if it comes as a shock to you,” she said quietly. “I did return the balance of the retainer.”

“Rather sudden, wasn't it?”

Val's lips tightened. “From your point of view I guess it was, but not from mine. I'm selling the firm. If your family wants to stay here, you can negotiate with the new partners. It will probably be to your benefit, and cheaper.” Here it comes, Val thought, the biggie.

Riley pushed his baseball cap back on his dark hair. “I can't argue with the part about wanting a life of your own. It's the suddenness that bothers me. Listen, Val, there's no one in the world I have more respect for than you. Both my butt and Cole's would have been in jail if it weren't for you. So I'm not going to beat around the bush here. Rand more or less implied a problem. Aunt Maggie took off. Rand left the house early last night and never came home. I'd like to know what's going on. Not because I'm being nosy, but because you are terminating your contract with us. I also came here today to conduct some business. Or try to.”

Suddenly it was important to her that Riley not view her with suspicion. She was genuinely fond of him, and she absolutely adored Ivy. She got up from her comfortable chair and walked around to him. “Nothing happened between Rand and myself. This thing, whatever this thing is, seems to be coming out of nowhere. I really don't want to get involved with your family's personal problems, Riley. Now,” she said briskly, “you said you came here to do some business. What is it?”

Riley explained.

Val laughed. “A piece of cake. I'll tell you what, Riley. I'll do it. We'll call it my going-away present to you. Once I set it up, one of the new partners can take over if that's agreeable with you. Three days, four at the most.”

They were shaking hands when the intercom on Val's desk.came to life. “Miss Mitchell, there's a call for Mr. Coleman on line two.” Val raised her eyebrows and winked. She busied herself at the file cabinet as Riley stretched across the desk for the phone.

She whirled about when she heard Riley say, “What did you say? Yes, that's my license plate number. I loaned my truck to my uncle last evening. It was early when he left my house. No, no, he didn't come home at all last night, and he still wasn't there when I left this morning. No, he didn't call. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

When Riley hung up, Val whispered fearfully, “What was all that about?”

“That was the state police. They said . . . they said Rand's dead.” Riley's face was drained of all color.

“Dead!” Val said, lowering herself into her chair. “It must be a mistake. How . . . where do they want you to go?”

“The morgue. They said a passing motorist stopped around six this morning, just as it was getting light, to use the roadside phone booth. My truck was parked on the shoulder of the road with the door ripped off. The motorist called the state police and . . . they found . . . Rand in the culvert. That's all I know.”

“I'll go with you,” Val said, reaching for her purse. “I'll drive, too. You're whiter than ceiling paint.”

“Aunt Maggie?”

“Not yet, Riley.”

Val linked her arm through Riley's as she steered him through the maze of offices. To her secretary she said, “I don't know when I'll be back.”

They drove in silence. Over and over in her mind Val thanked God for the wisdom he'd bestowed on her earlier. She was glad now that she'd called Maggie, glad she'd lied to her and to Riley. She longed for Isaac's warm, cuddly body. How cold she felt, how very tired.

Ivy was waiting in the corridor outside the morgue, pacing up and down, wringing her hands, her eyes full of tears. She ran to Riley the moment she saw him, her Reeboks making hard slapping sounds on the marble floor.

The three of them stared at one another. Val squared her shoulders. “I'll do it, Riley. I've done it before. Stay with Ivy.”

Val was alongside them four minutes later, her face as sheet-white as Riley's. “I signed the paper identifying the body. There was no mistake. It's Rand. We have to go upstairs now.” She bit down on her lower lip. God, she needed air. Lots of air. Her stomach lurched sickeningly. Who was going to call Maggie? Who was going to call Billie?

Later, while they waited for Riley to join them in the corridor, Ivy said, “Riley told me what you said, about you and Rand. You lied. You never did that before, did you?”

Val shook her head. “I didn't want Riley to remember Rand like that. I think . . . I have to get back to the office. You have a car, right?”

“I borrowed Jonquil's. Susan has mine. Val, I need to talk to you in a few days. Friend to friend, if that's okay. Riley told me you weren't going to represent the family anymore.”

“I decided to retire. Well, semiretire. I don't know if lawyers ever really retire. And Ivy . . . I'm very sorry about Rand. If there's anything I can do, let me know, and yes, I'll be happy to discuss whatever it is you want to discuss. Friend to friend.”

 

“I always thought Val was tough as wet rawhide,” Ivy said to Riley when he joined her minutes later. “She had tears in her eyes. I don't think I ever thought of Val as anything but an attorney who had her head screwed on right. That's terrible, isn't it, Riley? I've never thought of her as a human being. Just an attorney.”

“Yeah, Ivy, that's terrible, but it's the way I thought of her too,” Riley said hoarsely. “Come on, honey, let's go home. God, how am I going to tell Aunt Maggie?”

“We'll do it together, Riley,” Ivy said quietly.

 

The services for Rand Nelson were held privately. The family left the mortuary in a tightly knit group. Once again their numbers were depleted. This time, though, there would be no burial on the hill. There was to be no grave, no headstone. On Maggie's instructions, Rand's ashes were to be returned to England and placed in his family's crypt. Chesney, Rand's daughter, volunteered to deliver the urn in person, saying she would return to England to live.

Ivy Coleman presided over the gathering. From time to time she wiped at the corners of her eyes, and she was never far from her husband's side.

They were eating now, an exquisite luncheon prepared by Jonquil. The family's voices were little more than hushed murmurs as they stirred and stared at the food on their plates.

We look like an assembly of penguins, Ivy thought, eyeing everyone's black clothing. Only Maggie, in a vivid scarlet dress with matching hip-length jacket, added color to the room. She looked as out of place as a hare in a hound's lair.