Texas Sunrise (9 page)

Family first.
Immediate
family, that is.

 

Riley watched the bright, red numbers on the clock next to his side of the bed. Three-thirty-one and he hadn't closed his eyes. Next to him Ivy slept contentedly, her breathing deep and even. He stretched his long legs, being careful not to disturb his wife. What the hell was wrong? He should get up, go downstairs, make himself some hot chocolate, Ivy's sure-fire cure for sleeplessness, and call Cole. He'd never had the heart to tell Ivy the caffeine in the cocoa gave him a charge of energy instead of putting him to sleep. Ivy took being a wife and mother seriously, and she had cures for everything from sleeplessness to ingrown toenails. Once, she'd forced a cold remedy on him that had curled the hair on his chest. She'd made tea laced with honey, one-hundred-proof whiskey, lemon, and melted Vicks salve. Then she'd stood over him while she watched him down it in two long swallows. She'd pronounced him cured on the spot when his eyes started to water and he nearly choked to death, either from the drink or the Grey Poupon mustard she'd lathered all over his chest. Or maybe it was the string of garlic she hung around his neck. All he knew was that the next morning he was fit to go to work. Not that anyone would come near him. Four days went by before the smell left his system.

Before he could think twice, he swung his legs out of the bed, grabbed his robe, and headed for the hall. He stopped to peek into the baby's room. Moss's chubby fist was clutching the satin binding of his blanket, and his pudgy thumb was secure in his mouth. Riley's heart swelled.

Ivy had spent weeks making the kitchen her domain. The huge fieldstone fireplace that took up one wall was covered with dried herbs, nets of garlic cloves, and shiny copper pots. Tubs of greenery in clay pots graced the hearth along with a basket of logs.

Everything was green and yellow, with touches of red. The floor was red Mexican tile, the cabinets and window moldings honeyed oak. The awning, which Ivy had made herself to shade the huge bow window, was checkered green and white, with a darker green tassel trim. Every appliance was a rich copper color. Bowls of luscious fruit always sat on the counter.

Riley carried the hot cocoa he'd made in a huge mug that said DAD, along with the portable phone, to the old rocker next to the fireplace. The cocoa was cool enough to drink now. Riley sipped, aware that the big old yellow tomcat, Slick, was licking his chops. Slick had wandered up to the back porch one day and had never gone.

Riley leaned back against the cushions. He was diddling, trying to postpone the moment when he had to call his cousin. He ran the time difference over in his head as he punched out the numbers. When he had a clear connection, he spoke in rapid-fire Japanese. He reverted to English when Cole's voice hummed over the wire, though Cole understood Japanese as well as he did.

“How are things back in Texas?” Cole asked quietly.

“Well, it's a quarter to four in the morning, so not much is going on. How's Sumi?”

“Anxious, but then so am I. Look, Riley, the reason I called is ... What are the chances of you coming over here for a few days? If it wasn't so close to Sumi's delivery date, I'd come to Texas. Can you handle it? I know you said you'd come back when you were ready and not one minute before, but I find myself in need of that cool Japanese head of yours.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible. I wish you were here now. Can you clear your decks?”

Riley snorted. “About all any of us are doing is twiddling our thumbs. Yeah, I can get away. Of course, Adam is going to want to know why I'm not tending his wells.” The joke fell flat when Cole remained quiet.

“Hang up, Riley, I'll call you back in ten minutes.” The connection was broken before Riley had a chance to say anything. He looked at the pinging phone, at the cat who was slinking across the kitchen floor in search of a mouse.

Since he obviously wasn't going back to bed, Riley measured coffee into the percolator and plugged it in just as the phone rang.

“You can get a seven A.M. flight out of Austin, fly to LAX, and from there to Honolulu, where you board a flight for Guam. I'll fly the Dream Machine to Guam, pick you up, and we'll deadhead back. Deal?”

Riley blinked. “Reservations?”

“My girl is taking care of it as we speak. Ivy?”

“No problem,” Riley murmured. Guam. His mother had met his father in Guam. They'd been married there and lived in a little farmhouse until his father had been sent to Vietnam to fly night missions over the Mekong Delta, where he was killed.

The coffee was strong, almost as thick as mud. Riley drank it anyway, but not before he poured a generous amount of cream into the cup. It still tasted like mud. Ivy would throw it out when she got up and make her own special blend of Irish cream with a touch of cinnamon. She even ground the beans fresh each morning. Jonquil, their housekeeper, didn't like flavored coffees and kept a can of Folgers for herself in the cupboard, which is what he had used. He decided he didn't like Jonquil's coffee. Neither did Slick when he poured what was left in his cup into the cat's dish.

 

The first person Riley saw when he stepped off the jumbo jet into Guam's blanket-wet humidity was Cole. He looks as tired as I feel, Riley thought. He'd never seen shadows under his cousin's eyes before.

When the handshaking, backslapping, and hugs were over, Cole said, “I filed a flight plan. We can either deadhead back or stay over so you can get some sleep. It's your call. I booked a room at one of the hotels we own, just in case.”

Riley thought about it for a full minute before he replied. “I slept almost all the way. What I would really like is some ham and eggs and a quick drive around the island. I'd like to see the farmhouse where my parents lived and the church where they got married. What about you, Cole, are you tired? If you are, I can do this some other time. Sumi?”

“Yeah, I am worried. Let's get the ham and eggs. I'll fly you back here when you're ready to return, and you can ... you can check it all out. You want to be alone when you do that anyway, right?”

“Actually, I'm not even sure I want to do it at all. I feel I should. Let's get the ham and eggs and get back to Sumi. Neither of us will ever hear the end of it if she goes to the hospital and you aren't there. Lead on, cousin. I know you checked this place out already. They're gonna skip the rice, right?”

“Right.” Cole grinned.

The two young men who strode down the concourse were almost identical in height and build. The only major difference between them was Cole's blond hair and blue eyes. Riley could have passed for Italian, Greek, Jewish, or Guamanian. Cole's flight suit and the rakish angle of his flight cap immediately identified him as a pilot. Riley's creased blue jeans, low-heeled boots, open-necked shirt, and battered baseball cap proclaimed him a Texan, a fact he constantly wanted to shout to the world. The slight cast to his eyes that would have revealed his Japanese heritage had been altered surgically a year before, much to the family's objections, especially Ivy's.

“We must look like giants to these people,” Cole said out of the corner of his mouth. “The tallest man I've seen so far is around five-eight. I know you're six-four, and I'm a tad under that. If we lived here, do you suppose it would be an advantage or disadvantage?”

“Well, we'd be able to see far and wide.” Riley laughed as he took his seat in the restaurant. “Like now, I can see into the kitchen. Looks clean to me.” They spoke of each other's families while eating, then Riley took a deep breath and plunged in. “Now,” he said, “what the fuck is wrong, Cole? What's with this shit Sawyer is babbling about? I heard her side. If your side isn't any better, we're all in trouble.”

“I had a bad day. Business is business. You, more than anyone, should understand that.”

“We're talking family here, Cole. Or did you suddenly turn into a loan shark?”

Cole pushed back his flight cap. He didn't like the edge in Riley's voice. He didn't like the stubborn look on his face either. “Is that why you're here, to tell me I fucked up with Sawyer?”

Riley stared across the table at his cousin. “Yeah,” he drawled. He set his coffee cup down carefully. “The whole purpose of our deal was East and West, remember? United. As one. You agreed. I agreed. Now you're reneging, like you want to gouge the family. That may not really be your intention, but that's the way it looks from where I'm sitting. From where your sister is sitting too. If you have an explanation, I'd sure as hell like to hear it.” This time Riley slammed the empty cup down on the plastic tabletop. “And, yeah, that's part of the reason I'm here. The other part is I thought you needed me. I'd like to help if you
think
you're in trouble.”

“That's big of you, Riley,” Cole snapped. “Is this where you remind me that you gave up your Japanese inheritance so I could take over Rising Sun?”

“That's a low blow, Cole, and unworthy of you. I've come halfway around the world to listen to what you have to say.”

Cole felt his neck growing warm, a sign that his anger was about to erupt. “That's just another way of saying you're going to interfere.”

“Are you afraid of me, Cole?” Riley asked quietly.

Was he? he wondered. “Concerned would be a better word. You control Coleman Enterprises and you still have your hand in Rising Sun. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm not just a goddamn figurehead.”

Riley balled up his napkin and then started to shred it. “You control Rising Sun. No strings, remember?”

“
Bullshit!
There's always a string somewhere. I just haven't found it yet, but it will appear like magic if I don't give in and fund Sawyer's plane, right?”

Riley's eyebrows shot upward.

“I'm not aware of any strings, Cole. And you know I've never lied to you. But you and I had a verbal agreement—East and West as one. You're weaseling, and I don't like it.”

“I'm not weaseling. I screwed up with Sawyer. I'm sorry about that and the way it looks, so I'm prepared to make a straightforward business deal with her and apologize in the bargain. Does that make you feel better?”

“No. It's not enough.”

Cole leaned across the table, his blue eyes burning. “You want me to
give
her the money?”

“My grandfather would have. I would have.”

“I'm not your grandfather and I'm not you,” Cole snarled.

“Obviously,” Riley said quietly.

“Business is business. You don't just give away a hundred million dollars.”

“Back in Texas you gave me your share of Sunbridge with no strings. Together we gave Adam back his homestead. That was Coleman money, right? You could be generous with it because you were fed up and didn't give a damn. You thought like I did back then. The bottom line, Cole, is it's the giving that counts. And if you need more proof, just take a look at yourself and what
you
got.”

Cole's blue eyes continued to burn. “Let me make sure I understand what you're saying. I give up a hundred million bucks, close the old checkbook and forget about it. Forget interest, forget a share in a plane that will hopefully make history. And at some point in the future maybe five, ten years from now, I'll be paid partial payments on the principal. What kind of fool do you take me for?”

“I never said you were a fool, Cole. You're the last person in the world I'd call a fool. Look, fuck the business end of it. Let's talk about you and me.”

“What about you and me?” Cole asked warily.

“We were like brothers, Cole, and now we're not. What is it, we can't afford the phone bills to talk once in a while? I wanted to talk to you so badly while I was waiting in the hospital for Ivy to have the baby. I wanted to tell you how worried I was that something might go wrong, and then when I saw Moss for the first time I wanted to call you and tell you he had all his fingers and toes and that little jigger between his legs was . . . I wanted to
share
.”

“Then why didn't you?”

“Goddamnit, I did. I called and left messages and even left the number of the phone booth at the hospital, but you didn't call back. Didn't you ever wonder why we sent a cable announcing Moss's birth?”

Cole's shoulders slumped. “I didn't know. I'm sorry, Riley. I was going through . . . I've been going through . . . I can't sleep, I can't eat right. I drink too much coffee and I'm smoking like a chimney. I'm so wired, I can't think straight these days.”

“Is it Sumi?”

“No, of course not. She's upset with me too, and I don't blame her. She'd be entirely justified if she booted my ass right out of the house. I'm not a nice person these days. I have these really awful dreams. I believe—I don't want you laughing at me, Riley—but I believe your grandfather's spirit is in the Zen gardens. Honest to God. I take a bottle of beer out there and set it down. I walk around, and when I come back it's empty. I light cigars, your grandfather's favorite, and then I find ash along the different paths.”

“Wait a minute, are you saying that you suddenly believe in ... ghosts?” Riley exploded in laughter, but when he saw that his cousin was serious, he sobered instantly.

“I went up to the cherry blossom hill, and I swear to God he was there. Your grandfather is disappointed in me. I failed. Do you know something, Riley? Rising Sun is in exactly the same shape it was in when I took over. Almost to the penny. I have not made a difference, and I busted my ass. Jesus, I was working eighteen hours a day, and I still am. I have to be doing something wrong, but I'll be damned if I know what it is. I have this feeling your grandfather is watching over me, and he's shaking his head in disappointment.”