Vegas Sunrise (26 page)

“Then you're my man. I think I will marry you after all.”

“In the buff or in a dress?”

“You name it. If we pull this off, I'll be up for anything. You could have told me about Colette.”

“I could have. I didn't know for sure if she'd change her mind or not. You being a woman of principle, well, I didn't want to get you all fired up and then have to fizzle out. I want you to swear you'll hang those pictures someplace where they can be seen. That's a big part of our divorce settlement.”

“I promise.”

“Ruby, have you given any thought to how you're going to reach the lodge once you land? How far is it from the airport?”

“I don't know. Sage knows, though. He used to go skiing there with Birch and my brother Simon. Snowmobiles? Can you arrange that?”

“Of course I can. I can do whatever it takes as long as I know what is going on. This cannot be a Mickey Mouse production.”

“Are you going to fly alone, Metaxas?”

“I'll bring one of the guys with me. Maybe I'll bring my whole flight crew. I'm going to hang up now, Ruby, and get my show on the road. I'll see you on the ground. You're sure now that you want to marry me?”

“Damn straight,” Ruby said smartly.“I'm hanging up now, Metaxas, an updated weather report is coming on. I . . . I guess I'll see you, in what, five hours?”

“More like six. Dawn. Eight or nine East Coast time.”

“Bye, Metaxas.”

“Bye, sweet love.”

Ruby flopped back on the chair, her eyes glued to the small screen. The bottom line to the five-minute update was that the freak snowstorm was increasing in intensity and there was no way to predict the exact accumulation of snow. The National Weather Service was issuing a blanket order for the state of Vermont, warning all residents to stay indoors and not take to the roads. Ruby felt herself crumbling. She jerked upright when the phone rang.

“I'm on my way. I'm not waiting, Aunt Ruby,” Sage said.

“I'm ready. Sage, I called Metaxas Parish. He's going to make all the necessary calls. He'll clear the way for us. He's leaving now. He'll probably get there before we do. He said . . . he said he'll see us on the ground. He also said he can land his plane on a lily pad without damaging the petals. He asked me to marry him. I said yes. We can do this, can't we, Sage?”

“We're going to try like hell. I'll meet you at the airport in fifty minutes. Be on time.”

“I'm out of here right now. Do you want me to call anyone?”

“I woke Iris and told her. She'll call everyone in the morning. There is nothing they can do. It's better that just you and I go. If you don't agree, call whomever you want. I don't think I'd call Mom, though.”

“I'll stop by Celia's and tell her. She might want to come along.”

Sage snorted. No words were necessary.

Ruby hung up the phone and turned off the television. She checked the back of the Range Rover before she climbed behind the wheel. All her bags were neatly stowed in the cargo area. High beams flashing, Ruby tore out of the parking area, cell phone in hand. She dialed Celia's number three different times, letting the phone ring and ring. Each time the machine came on she said, “Call me, this is an emergency.” After the sixth call, Ruby called the main number of Babylon and asked to be put through to Neal Tortolow. When she heard his voice, she identified herself and explained the circumstances. “By any chance have you seen Celia Thornton tonight?”

“As a matter of fact I just saw her heading for Jeff's office.”

“I'm going to give you this number to give her. Tell her it's an emergency and to call me right away.” Ruby rattled off the number. What was it Celia had said when she dropped her off at the apartment? Oh, yes, she was dog-ass tired and going straight to bed. What Ruby should have asked was to whose bed?

 

Jeff Lassiter's face was ugly with anger when he slammed the door behind Celia's back. “What the hell is this? You were supposed to be here at nine. I had everything set up down the Strip. It's eleven-thirty now. If you don't want to wear a watch on that skinny arm of yours, put it on your ankle. Or is it true what they say about dumb blondes and you really can't tell time? Your mistake, Celia.”

“Don't talk to me like that. In case you haven't heard, I've been working. Hard. I know you know, because you say you know everything, that I'm the new spokesperson for Ruby Thornton's chicken empire. There was no way I could turn that down. So I'm late, so what. That doesn't give you the right to talk to me like that. Just watch it, Jeff, or I'll slam you to the wall, and you won't even have this office to diddle around in.”

“Just try it. We had a deal. You might be able to pull crap like this with your in-laws but it isn't going to work with me. Don't forget, I have those pictures.”

“So you have pictures, so what?” Celia hoped the jolt of fear she was feeling didn't show in her eyes.
Damn it, why didn't I keep those pictures myself?
she thought. Obviously her fear showed, because Jeff was smiling. She wet her lips trying to stare him down. She was the first to look away. She seethed inwardly, knowing Jeff now had the upper hand.

Celia was about to leave when a knock sounded on the door. She ignored Jeff's warning look and opened the door. “Mrs. Thornton, I have a message for you. Miss Ruby Thornton asked me to give you this number. She wants you to call her immediately. It's an emergency of some kind.”

Celia's mouth tightened into a thin line. “Call her back and tell her I'm not here.”

“I can't do that, Mrs. Thornton. I already told her you were here. She called just as you walked back to the office.”

“Then call her and tell her you were mistaken or that I just left.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to do that yourself. I'm not going to put myself in a position where I have to lie for anyone. For whatever it's worth, it sounded pretty important.”

Celia snatched the paper out of Neal's hand, slamming the door shut in his face at the same time. She stalked her way to Jeff's desk to pick up the phone. She took a moment to compose herself, her mind racing to come up with a lie Ruby would believe.

Celia's voice was tired but sweet when she said, “Ruby, it's Celia. Is something wrong? I was so wired up I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come here to the casino for an hour or so and have a nightcap. I've been a night owl for years. Birch said he thinks I have vampire blood in my veins.” She emitted a little laugh that sounded nervous to her own ears. “Yes, yes, I'm listening.”

Lassiter pressed the button on the speaker phone. Ruby's agitated voice poured into the room.

“Did I hear you correctly, Ruby? Sage
thinks
something is wrong. It's that twin thing everyone talks about. He wants to fly your brand-new multimillion-dollar plane to an airport that's closed and you're going with him all because he
thinks
something
might
be wrong. You want to know if I care to go along on the trip. I'll pass, Ruby. Birch told me many times he was a Boy Scout. Ski resorts make their living off snow. Every Sunday in the newspaper they have stories about the latest equipment they have when storms like this crop up. They have generators, deep freezes stocked with food, endless supplies of firewood, gasoline-powered snowblowers. They have all kinds of medical stations and units, ski patrols and, of course, the rangers. What can you and Sage possibly do that they aren't doing except endanger your own lives and the life of that brand-new jet you just bought?”

“I had to ask, Celia. It was a courtesy. Sage and I are willing to take that chance.”

“Well, I'm not. Those weather forecasters blow everything out of proportion. For the past three days I've heard our own weatherman predict rain. I haven't seen a drop so far. They prey on people's fears and it fills up the airtime. Birch is very good at looking out for himself. Have a safe trip. I'll keep up the work schedule tomorrow. By the time you get back the commercials will be wrapped and ready to air. The blowup ads are supposed to be ready for the print media late tomorrow. Have a safe trip and give Birch a kiss for me.”

“Talk about a loving wife,” Lassiter sneered.

“I can see the evil shining in your eyes,” Celia sneered in return.

“What you're seeing is your own evil reflected in my eyes. You better get moving, sweetie. Tomorrow morning is going to be here before you know it. How are you going to cover those bags and dark circles under your eyes?”

“You let me worry about my dark circles. For your information, I do not have bags under my eyes.”

Jeff's laughter followed Celia out the door. She was halfway across the casino floor when Neal Tortolow caught up with her.

“Mrs. Thornton, wait a minute. Can I offer you a ride to the airport?”

“Don't be ridiculous. I'm not flying into any freak snowstorm because someone
thinks
something
might
be wrong. How asinine can you get?”

Neal blinked. “What if something
is
wrong?”

“That's why they have trained people at those places. I don't think being a Boy Scout is going to cut it in a situation like this. Trained professionals are what is needed. All Sage and Ruby are doing is endangering their own lives. By morning everything will be fine, you'll see. Those weather forecasters are lunatics.”

“It takes one to know one,” Neal muttered.

At the airport, Sage did his last-minute check. “I'm on my way, Birch.” He crossed himself as he taxied down the runway. Three minutes later he was airborne. “Just hang in there, big brother, I'm coming as fast as this bird can fly.”

“Amen,” Ruby said.

Fanny stirred in the recliner. In her half sleep she knew the television was still on, knew the wind outside was stronger than before, knew she felt cold, knew the fire was low, knew that Billie Kingsley and Bess had gone to bed. She squirmed as she fumbled for the afghan she'd knitted in two days while sitting at the medical center waiting for a change in Marcus's condition. She struggled to wakefulness as she tried to concentrate on the words bouncing off the television and, at the same time, challenging herself as to the color of the afghan she'd recently completed.

The cold won out. Tossing the colorful covering aside, Fanny staggered over to the fireplace, still groggy with sleep, to toss two large logs on the dying fire. The bark took flame immediately, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. On her way to the bathroom she noted the color of the afghan: three different shades of daffodil yellow. Oliver North in full-dress uniform glared at her from the screen. What exactly did a loose cannon mean? Ash would have known. She'd seen the marine's face earlier on the six o'clock news and then again on the ten o'clock news. She decided she didn't care what he looked like and didn't care if he were in his skivvies or full dress. Loose cannons or patriots weren't in her thoughts these days. Let someone else take charge of all the wrong or right doing that was going on in the world. For one split second she felt like throwing the brass lamp at the television. It occurred to her then, in the next split second, that all she had to do was press a button. Oliver North would be erased forever or until she turned the set back on. She could, of course, read the
TV Guide
to select an inane game show or cartoon or even a late-night rerun of some sort. Marines didn't spout off in game shows or reruns of
Gilligan's Island.
Or did they? Not wishing to take a chance, Fanny pressed the remote.

She was in the kitchen now. How neat and tidy it looked. Someone had watered the hanging plants and herbs on the windowsill. The red-and-white-checked dish towel was neatly folded on the side of the sink. Marcus always wadded it up into a ball and tossed it in the sink. She herself always hung it on the oven door. Green-checkered place mats were on the table. They didn't match the red-checked cushions or dish towel. Maybe the red ones were in the laundry. She'd always been partial to the color red. Marcus liked varying shades of blue. They'd argued over the kitchen colors when she'd finally convinced him that blue in a kitchen was depressing. Her ironing board cover was red-and-white-checked. It seemed to make the ironing go faster, not that she ironed much these days. Color coordination was the name of the game.

Fanny fixed the coffee basket, plugged the pot in, and sat down to wait. She wondered if black coffee ran in her veins. If it did, so what? What would they give her if she ever needed a transfusion? Coffee or blood? She walked over to the sink to stare out at the night. How light and bright it was. A full moon. When she lived on the mountain, she'd loved to sit outdoors, even in cold weather, and stare up at the silver moon. Suddenly she wanted to cry and didn't know why.

What would she do with her life if something happened to Marcus? She was too young to wither on the vine. She'd done her stint with Rainbow Babies and Sunny's Togs. The challenge was gone. Ash was gone. Simon was gone. Suddenly she longed for Sallie to put her arms around her, to talk to her, a mother to daughter talk. She need to wallow, to cry and wail and have someone tell her things would be all right. “It ain't going to happen, Fanny. You're on your own,” she muttered.

Fanny trotted back to the den for the afghan. Carrying it and a mug of coffee, she walked out to the patio to settle herself in one of the wooden lounge chairs Marcus had made in his workshop. She smiled ruefully when she sat down. The left leg was shorter than the right leg. When he wasn't looking, she'd used wood glue and stuck a small piece of wood she sanded down under the leg. It worked until Marcus sat on the chair. He'd added the repair to his list tacked on the garage door. She longed for Daisy to cuddle with. She belonged here with her. Tomorrow she'd go to the mountain and bring her, Growl Tiger, and Fosdick back. Life was going to go on, she needed to get back into her groove. It was time for Billie and Bess to go home, too. They had wet-nursed her long enough, pulled her through the worst days. Now it was up to her to follow through. She'd tell them at breakfast.

It was terrible to feel alone, to feel you had outlived your usefulness. Was that the way Sallie felt at the end? Sallie had given up everyone and everything. Ash hadn't, though. Ash had savored every single minute of his life right to the end. If ever a person was meant to live forever, it was Ash Thornton.

Ash always said, make everything in your life work to your advantage. The only problem was, he'd never told her how to do that. When she'd asked him, he'd stared at her, and said, “Fanny, there are some things in life you just have to figure out for yourself.” Then he said, “I'm not going to be here forever to keep my eye on you. When it comes down to the wire the only person you can depend on one hundred percent is yourself.” Why was she remembering all Ash's little homilies tonight? Was something going to happen tonight? Was the full moon spooking her? She thought about Ruby and the strange conversation they'd had earlier. Nothing was going right. Why was that? Ash would say, open your mind, explore, demand explanations. Don't settle for maybes, what ifs, and excuses. Get to the bottom of things. Don't depend on anyone but yourself. “What I need to do,” Fanny muttered, “is to stop thinking about Ash like he's still alive and in my life.” The clock in the kitchen chimed. Midnight. The witching hour.

Fanny set her coffee cup on the ground. Snuggling beneath the daffodil afghan, she was asleep within seconds, the bright moon painting her sleeping form a sparkling, silver color. Almost immediately a barrage of sound heralded Ash Thornton's arrival. She ran, the sound following her. “Leave me alone, Ash, I need to find my own way,” she shouted over her shoulder. The sound followed her as she ran among the cottonwoods to seek shelter from the blaring horn.

“You made a mistake, Fanny, when you gave Jeff my wings. They weren't yours to give. I wanted Jake to have them some day. I had a message inscribed on the back just for him. That was a shitful thing for you to do, Fanny.”

“Then you should have told me to save them for him. I didn't know anything about the message. How could I?”

“I shouldn't have to tell you something that's so important. It's common sense. Jeff Lassiter was the last person in the world you should have given my wings to. He made a goddamn key ring out of them. A fucking key ring, Fanny! Why didn't you give him Simon's wings? Get them back, Fanny, and attach the clasp for Jake.”

“I'm not an Indian giver, Ash.”

“Then steal them. They belong to Jake. Never Jeff. The minute I take my eyes off you, you screw up. I don't tolerate screwups. Don't cry. Crying won't solve anything. You do what you have to do in this life because no one else is going to do it for you. I told you that a hundred times. Why don't you listen?”

“Because I'm sick and tired of listening to you. Sometimes you lie, Ash. It's hard for me to know when you're telling the truth. I'll find a way to get them back so there is no need to talk this to death. Let's face it. Your character wasn't exactly sterling when you were on this earth.”

“That was back then. I'm platinum now, baby.”

“I want to know about Marcus. I don't know what to do with my life. I'm marking time. I'm not doing anything constructive. I'm not contributing. Can't you ask them to, you know, rescind the order or whatever it is you do up there to change things?”

“I'm not one of the chosen few, Fanny. No one asks for my opinion. I can only tell you what I observe.”

“I think you're nuts, Ash Thornton. I'm nuts for listening to you. I know this is a dream. You know it's a dream. You aren't real. You're dead. This is my subconscious working overtime because I'm on what you always called overload. You're sneaky, Ash. I'm afraid to go to sleep because I know you're going to stalk me. I'm so tired.”

“Fanny, Fanny, Fanny. I have no control over things. Your subconscious wants me here. Even up here I have a hard time understanding that since you said you hate my guts.”

“Sometimes I do. Not all the time. How did you know I gave Jeff your wings? I'll find a way to get them back. I refuse to take all the blame for that. You should have told me, put it in writing, that you wanted them to go to Jake. Your will was not very explicit. Things like that should be put in a will, so everyone understands what they're supposed to do.”

“I relied on you.”

“Get off it, Ash. Tell me this, why am I feeling so . . . antsy this evening? I don't want to hear anything about the full moon either.”

“You should have paid attention. You're wallowing in your own self pity. That's a dangerous thing to do because you miss what is going on right in front of your eyes. Your ears, too. You tell me what you suspect, and I'll tell you if you're right.”

“Ruby was upset because the chickens were restless. I sensed fear in her. It rubbed off on me. I was feeling something too, though. I just can't pin it down.”

“The chickens always get restless when there is a full moon. I think every weirdo in Vegas showed up at Babylon when the moon was full. It's one of those either-or things. Translated that means either you pay attention or you don't.”

“That only leaves Marcus and the kids. Is it Marcus's time? Is it the kids? I don't even know what they're doing these days. Ruby told me Birch and Libby took Sunny and Harry to Vermont skiing to that resort Simon used to take them to. I should have known that, Ash.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“Are they in trouble, Ash?”

“Yes.”

“There is all kinds of trouble, Ash. Minor trouble, big trouble, and serious trouble. Which one is it? Answer me, Ash. You can't lay something on me like this and then float . . . sail . . . fly away. They're your kids, too! Come back here! I want an answer, Ash, and I want it right now!”

Fanny woke with Ash's name on her lips and sweat dripping down her face, the afghan wadded up under her chin. Disoriented, she staggered into the kitchen, where she refilled her coffee cup. She carried the heavy mug, the afghan dragging behind her, into the living room, where she switched on the television set, turning the volume low. She watched aerial maneuvers of an old war movie, realizing Ash used to do the same thing these pilots were doing. Her heart thudded in her chest. She reached for the remote, flipping through the channels. She whipped past the weather channel, then switched back when she heard the words “New England states.” She stared, mesmerized, at the swirling snow and the weatherman's horrific words. A second later the portable phone was in her hand and she was punching out Ruby's number at the ranch.

“Edna, this is Fanny Reed. I'm sorry to wake you. Is Ruby there?”

“No, Miss Fanny. She took the airplane on a trip. I packed her things myself. Your boy went with her. I think he's flying the plane. Where did they go? Miss Ruby didn't say. It must be somewhere that it's cold with snow. I don't think Miss Ruby will mind me telling you she wanted her long underwear, her boots, warm clothing, and lots of flashlights and those flares that were in the garage. She told me to pack plenty of brandy and cigarettes, too. I saw the truck leave about twenty minutes ago. When I asked her how long she'd be gone she said, ‘You'll see me when you see me.' You might be able to catch her at the airport.”

Her insides shaking, Fanny called information for the airport number, her fingers drumming on the end table as she waited for the operator. She repeated the number twice before she dialed it. They transferred her five times before she reached the person who told her the plane had just taxied down the runway and was now, this second, airborne. “I'm not at liberty to tell you the pilot's flight plan, ma'am.”

Fanny slammed the portable phone on the coffee table. She picked it up again and dialed Sunrise. She wasn't surprised when Iris picked it up on the first ring. What did surprise her was her daughter-in-law's frosty tone of voice once she identified herself.

“Where did they go, Iris? Why didn't someone tell me? What's going on?”

“I probably know as much as you do, Fanny. Sage woke me up and said Birch was in trouble and he was going to Vermont. Ruby called Metaxas Parish and he's flying there too.”

“Metaxas? Did Birch call? How . . . why?”

“There's a terrible storm at the lodge where they're staying. Sage said Birch is in trouble. It's Sage's instinct. No, Birch didn't call. Sage flew Ruby's new plane. He is certified to fly that type of plane but he has never flown a plane like it on his own. Ruby went with him. She's his copilot. She doesn't have a license so what does that tell you? That's all I know. Metaxas won't let anything happen to them. We all know how much he loves Ruby. Maybe this . . . whatever this is, will bring them together.”

“Why didn't you call me?”

“Fanny, why haven't you called us? The phones work two ways. I allowed for Marcus's accident, but you can't tell me you couldn't find five seconds in your day to make one phone call. I haven't heard from you since Celia got here. I also suspect Sage is having an affair with her. That's just in case you're interested. What do you think of that, Fanny?”

“What I think is you're out of your mind with worry about your husband and your pregnancy. Sage would never do what you just suggested. I know my son. I want you to know I resent what you just said. How could you even think such a thing about Sage? He and the others made it very clear they didn't want to discuss anything with me. They let me know right up front. It was their way or no way. I had to accept that.”