The Door at the Top of the Stairs (20 page)

They heard knocking on the front door, and Morgan grumbled.

“Why can't she just come in like we've told her to?"

Ryland covered Morgan's hand on the counter with her own.

“Because she knows it bothers you. Wait here; I'll go get her."

After a few minutes, Ryland returned, trailed by Jesse who pulled out a chair at the table and sat. Ryland poured her a cup of coffee and took the two cups to the table to join her. “So, how are you this morning?"

"Churlish."

Ryland sat back in her chair and Morgan snorted into her coffee cup. Ryland said. “Well, I can see you two have been at it already this morning and it's only six o'clock. I understand your headaches have returned."

The timer for the rolls dinged. Morgan picked up an oven mitt and pulled them out. She slid six onto a plate with a plastic spatula and liberally doused them with some of Ryland's homemade sugar sauce. She took three plates from the cupboard and brought everything over to the table. She reached back for her coffee cup, then sat at the end nearest Ryland.

Jesse followed each step of the process, not that it interested her; she simply didn't want to talk about her headaches. Morgan put a cinnamon roll on Ryland's plate as well as her own, then shoved the rest toward Jesse at the other end of the table.

She didn't make a move to serve herself, and Ryland reached over and began to lift a roll onto her plate. Jesse put up a hand.

“I'm not hungry."

Ryland scooped up the roll anyway and placed it on the plate.

"You've been losing weight these last few weeks, Jess. When was the last real meal you ate?"

Jesse put her head on her hand and rubbed her forehead, eyes closed. "I don't know. I'm just not hungry, that's all. It's no big deal."

Ryland stood up. “How about I fix some eggs and toast? You might be getting headaches because you're not eating."

Jesse pushed away from the table and headed for the back door. “I said I'm not hungry."

Morgan got to the back door first. "Sit down. And when someone offers you food, the polite way to decline is to say 'No thank you.' I have a hard time believing you were never taught manners."

Jesse reached behind Morgan, grabbed the doorknob and touched it for precisely one second. Morgan grabbed her arm and escorted her back to her seat and made her sit. She pointed to the cinnamon roll. “Eat."

Jesse scowled at Morgan, then broke a piece off the roll and stuffed it into her mouth. Her hunger surprised her once she actually tasted some food, and the homemade cinnamon roll with fresh sugar sauce made her feel a little better somehow.

It took about five minutes for Ryland to cook the eggs and toast and put them front of Jesse, who picked up her fork.

“Thanks." She ate slowly, not sure whether the food was going to upset her stomach since she really hadn't eaten anything in days.

Morgan sat at the end of the table, arms crossed, waiting for Jesse to disrespect Ryland again. When she heard 'thanks', she raised her eyebrows and muttered. “Well, the gods be praised."

Both Jesse and Ryland glared at her while she stared back at them. Once everyone was finished, Morgan gathered the dishes and put them in the sink. “Jesse, you wash while I get everything I need for town. Ryland, thank you for a wonderful treat." She kissed Ryland's cheek, then went out into the living room.

Jesse walked over and began rinsing dishes and pans. Ryland came up behind her and laid her hand on Jesse's shoulders. “It'll be all right, Jesse. We'll get through it together."

Jesse shook her head. “Something bad's gonna happen, Ryland. I don't know what; I just feel it." She put a clean plate on the countertop and Ryland opened the dishwasher and started loading.

"We'll get through it together, Jess. Bad things happen, and people survive. You've already survived what actually happened.

We just need to bring the memory out, examine it, and take its power away."

Morgan yelled through the house as she opened the front door,

"Jesse, let's go."

Jesse held the last dish under the tap and let the water wash away the soap. “What if—" She blushed a deep shade of red.

“Never mind." She set down the plate and started for the door.

Ryland reached for her arm and pulled her around. “Jesse, without thinking, what's the first word that comes to your mind, right now?"

"Humiliation." Although it didn't seem possible, the red intensified.

Morgan had pushed open the kitchen door, ready to grab Jesse and go, but when she heard how Jesse answered Ryland's question, she quietly came in and stood next to them.

Ryland reached up and pushed some of Jesse's short hair behind an ear. “You'd better go now. Remember, what happened is in the past, and nothing you remember and tell us will push us away from you."

Jesse fought back tears. “What if it pushes me away from you?"

Ryland pulled her close and wrapped her arms around her. She rubbed her back and said softly, “Don't ever give that man that kind of control over you. If you push away from us, he wins."

Jesse buried her head on Ryland's shoulder. They didn't move until Jesse pulled in a deep breath.

Ryland pushed her back and handed her a paper towel. "Here, wash your face, and stop worrying about today. Have you ever heard the saying, Tomorrow, Today will be Yesterday?"

Jesse walked to the sink and held the paper towel under the water. She washed her face and stared out at the beauty of the back yard covered with yellow and gold leaves. The scene had a calming affect on her, and after a second she turned back to Morgan. “You ready?"

Morgan nodded, kissed Ryland on the forehead, and held her arm out for Jesse, who, after a second's hesitation, walked over.

Morgan draped her arm around Jesse's shoulder and the two of them walked out together.

Ryland poured herself another cup of coffee and went out onto the porch to sit in one of the hanging chairs. She sipped her coffee and watched two squirrels arguing over a nut while she planned out that afternoon's session. There was no doubt in her mind it was going to be a hellish experience for everyone involved.

Chapter Twenty-One

When they reached the truck, Jesse climbed on the back bumper to get into the bed. Morgan grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her down. “Would you just get in the front, for Christ's sake? I don't bite."

Jesse flashed unbelieving eyes at Morgan. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

Morgan grinned and pushed her toward the passenger door.

“Get in, you little shit."

They were almost to town when the truck phone rang. Jesse only heard one side of the conversation, but when Morgan glanced over at her, she started to get nervous. When Morgan said she had one of her employees with her, Jesse sank down into the seat.

Morgan hung up and began tapping on the steering wheel as she drove.

They bypassed town and, after a mile or so, pulled onto the driveway of an elegant, manicured estate. Before they reached what could only be called a mansion, Morgan pulled off to the side of the road and shifted into neutral.

She turned to Jesse and put her arm on the back of the bench seat. “Look, these people are the new owners of this place, and I've been trying to arrange a time to meet with them to discuss the possibility of foxhunting on their land. I've never met them before, and they just called and invited us over for coffee."

Jesse pushed down farther in the seat and put her knees up on the dashboard. “I'll stay in the truck."

Morgan regarded her a minute. “Well, that's not possible since that would be rude and I have no intention of allowing your bad manners to influence this meeting."

Jesse crossed her arms and dug in. “Then drop me off at the road and pick me up when you're done."

Morgan grimaced and rubbed her forehead. "They already know you're with me."

"Fine."

Morgan leaned toward Jesse, suspicion coloring her voice.

“Fine what? What does 'fine' mean?"

"It means I'll pretend to be polite. Let's just get this fuckin'

meeting over with." She waved toward the residence. “Go."

Morgan sighed. “Just try to be nice, okay? And polite?" She put the truck in gear and drove the rest of the way to the house. As they walked from the truck toward the front porch, a well-built man in his mid-sixties opened the door and stepped out. His hair was the high and tight cut of the hard-core retired military man.

His clothes were perfectly pressed and had obviously been tailored to exact specifications. He stood ramrod straight and waited for them to approach.

Jesse muttered under her breath. “Oh, Jesus, just what I need."

Morgan muttered back without moving her lips. “Shut up."

She smiled and stepped forward, extending her hand in greeting.

"Mr. Adams, I’m Morgan Davis. This is one of my employees, Jesse Shaunessy."

The man took Morgan's hand and shook it with three fingers and a thumb. "Ms. Davis, thank you for coming on such short notice. I'm Colonel James Adams. My wife is inside. Won't you come in?"

Morgan stepped through the door. “Thank you, and please call me Morgan."

The colonel followed her in and left Jesse standing on the porch, which was just fine with her. She backed around and headed down the steps until she felt a hand grab her shirt. Without missing a step, she turned and walked into the house, Morgan right behind her.

Colonel Adams held the door open, then directed them into the living room. He spoke to Jesse's chest. “Jesse, I apologize for not inviting you in. Usually the hired help goes around to the kitchen.

It seems I have a few things to learn about the local culture."

Jesse wanted to tell him that her eyes weren't on her breasts, but when she glanced over at Morgan, she decided to stay quiet.

A striking woman entered the room and walked over to the colonel. In most circles, she'd be described as arm candy—blonde, tan, and younger than he was. He put his arm around her waist and introduced them. “This is my wife, Sandra. Sandra, may I introduce you to Morgan Davis and one of her employees, Jesse."

Morgan held out her hand and Sandra greeted her with a firm handshake and a smile. "Ms. Davis, I'm very excited to hear all about your hunt club. We belonged to a wonderful club in England."

"Please, call me Morgan, and I hope you'll ride as my guests once the season starts. We're a little different here than England in that we don't kill the foxes; they just lead us on a merry chase."

Jesse's irritation at Colonel Adams grew as his eyes slowly undressed her, so she focused on Mrs. Adams to try to distract herself. Twenty years younger than her husband with a body twenty years younger than that, she made a very attractive distraction. Her breasts looked natural enough, easily a D or double-D cup, her waist, trim and her hips barely contained in tight, black leather pants.

Mrs. Adams held out her hand to Jesse. “Welcome to our new home, Jesse. And I would appreciate it if you would call me Sandra as well. What do you do for Ms. Davis on her farm?"

Jesse took the woman's hand and felt a finger caress her palm.

She smiled. “I shovel—"

Morgan interrupted her. “She works with the horses, Sandra. I couldn't help notice when we drove up that you’re restoring the wonderful old barn behind the house. I'd like to see it some time."

Sandra let go of Jesse's hand and motioned them farther into the living room. “I’d love to give you a tour when it's finished.

Please, won't you make yourselves comfortable? Morgan and James, why don't you sit over here?" She stood between two wing chairs and caressed their upholstery, reminiscent of Vanna as she turned the letters on
Wheel of Fortune
. Sandra walked over to the couch and patted the cushion. “Jesse why don't you and I sit on the couch? The coffee should be ready soon. Does everyone drink coffee?"

Morgan sat in the chair and nodded. “Coffee's fine, thank you." She and Colonel Adams began the endless small talk so common to these types of meetings, and Jesse tuned out until she felt a finger tickle the side of her leg. She glanced up at Morgan and the colonel, who seemed to be deep into their discussion.

Sandra stood up. “Jesse, while they're busy talking about business, would you mind helping me prepare the coffee and bring it in?"

Jesse felt Morgan's eyes on her as she followed Sandra through a swinging door into the fanciest kitchen she'd ever seen.

The flooring was a light hardwood, with the marble on the countertops the exact shade of the hardwood. The cabinets were built from natural pine and the swirls and whorls of the wood added to the overall elegance.

Sandra pointed to a cupboard by the side of the triple sink.

“Could you take four cups down for me out of that cupboard, please?"

"Sure." Jesse opened the cupboard door and reached up for the cups. As she stretched, she felt hands crisscross around her body and cup her breasts as Sandra leaned into her from behind.

Morgan hadn't gone over this particular set of circumstances, and Jesse wasn't sure exactly how to react. She brought the cups down as Sandra nibbled her ear. A flutter rippled through her and she closed her eyes a second, trying to figure out the best way to handle Mrs. Adams without hurting Morgan's chances for the hunt club.

When Sandra turned her around and delicately kissed her chin, Jesse glanced up at the door to the living room, then mentally shrugged.
What the heck. Morgan told me to be nice.
She reached around and put her hands on the woman's very tight leather backside and pulled her closer.

Sandra raised her lips to Jesse's, and when Jesse responded, she felt a tongue begin a slow caress. Eyes closed, Jesse opened her mouth and was rewarded by a gentle probing. The flutter moved lower, and she pulled Sandra in very close. The kitchen door opened and, after a second, Jesse opened one eye just enough to see Morgan leaning her forehead against the door jamb. She closed her eye again while she caressed Sandra's tongue with her own. The next time she came up for air, Morgan was gone.

From the living room, the colonel called out, "Sandra, how's the coffee coming?"