by Sandra Brown
Fancy dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter. “I don’t get it. Everybody in this family has been talking about how skinny she is. I’m the only one with enough guts to say something out loud, and I get my head bitten off.”
Nelson shot Jack a hard look, which he correctly took as his cue to do something about his daughter’s misbehavior. “Fancy, please be nice. This is Carole’s homecoming dinner.”
Avery read her lips as she mouthed, “Big fuckin’ deal.” Slouching in her chair, she lapsed into sullen silence and toyed with her remaining food, obviously killing time until she could be excused from the table.
“I think she looks damn good.”
“Thank you, Eddy.” Avery smiled across the table at him.
He saluted her with his wineglass. “Anybody catch her performance on the steps of the clinic this morning? They aired it on all three local stations during the news.”
“Couldn’t have asked for better coverage,” Nelson remarked. “Pour me some coffee, please, Zee?”
“Of course.”
She filled his cup before passing the carafe down the table. Dorothy Rae declined coffee and reached instead for the wine bottle. Her eyes locked with Avery’s across the table. Avery’s sympathetic smile was met with rank hostility. Dorothy Rae defiantly refilled her wineglass.
She was an attractive woman, though excessive drinking had taken its toll on her appearance. Her face was puffy, particularly around her eyes, which otherwise were a fine, deep blue. She’d made an attempt to groom herself for dinner, but she hadn’t quite achieved neatness. Her hair had been haphazardly clamped back with two barrettes, and she would have looked better without any makeup than she did in what had been ineptly and sloppily applied. She didn’t enter the conversation unless specifically spoken to. All her interactions were with an inanimate object—the wine bottle.
Avery had readily formed the opinion that Dorothy Rae Rutledge was an extremely unhappy woman. Nothing had changed that first impression. The reason for Dorothy Rae’s unhappiness was still unknown, but Avery was certain of one thing, she loved her husband. She responded to Jack defensively, as now, when he tried to discreetly place the wine bottle beyond her reach. She swatted his hand aside, lunged for the neck of the bottle, and topped off the portion already in her glass. In unguarded moments, however, Avery noticed her watching Jack with palpable desperation.
“Did you see those mock-ups of the new posters?” Jack was asking his brother.
Avery was flanked by Tate on one side and Mandy on the other. Though she had been conversant with everybody during the meal, she had been particularly aware of the two of them, but for distinctly different reasons.
After Avery had cut Mandy’s meat into bite-size chunks, the child had eaten carefully and silently. Avery’s experience with children was limited, but whenever she had observed them, they were talkative, inquisitive, fidgety, and sometimes annoyingly active.
Mandy was abnormally subdued. She didn’t complain. She didn’t entreat. She didn’t do anything except mechanically take small bites of food.
Tate ate efficiently, as though he resented the time it took to dine. Once he had finished, he toyed with his wineglass between sips, giving Avery the impression that he was anxious for the others to finish.
“I looked at them this afternoon,” he said in response to Jack’s question. “My favorite slogan was the one about the foundation.”
“ ‘Tate Rutledge, a solid new foundation,’ ” Jack quoted.
“That’s the one.”
“I submitted it,” Jack said.
Tate fired a fake pistol at his brother and winked. “That’s probably why I liked it best. You’re always good at cutting to the heart of the matter. What do you think, Eddy?”
“Sounds good to me. It goes along with our platform of getting Texas out of its current economic slump and back on its feet. You’re something the state can build its future on. At the same time, it subtly suggests that Dekker’s foundation is crumbling.”
“Dad?”
Nelson was thoughtfully tugging on his lower lip. “I liked the one that said something about fair play for all Texans.”
“It was okay,” Tate said, “but kinda corny.”
“Maybe that’s what your campaign needs,” he said, frowning.
“It has to be something Tate feels comfortable with, Nelson,” Zee said to her husband. She lifted the glass cover off a multilayered coconut cake and began slicing it. The first slice went to Nelson, who was about to dig in before he remembered what the dinner was commemorating.
“Tonight, the first slice belongs to Carole. Welcome home.” The plate was passed down to her.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t like coconut any more than she did wine, but apparently Carole had, so she began eating the dessert while Zee served the men and the men resumed their discussion about campaign strategy.
“So, should we go with that slogan and have them start printing up the posters?”
“Let’s hold off making a definite decision for a couple of days, Jack.” Tate glanced at his father. Though Nelson was appreciatively demolishing his slice of cake, he was still wearing a frown because his favorite slogan hadn’t met with their approval. “I only glanced at them today. That was just my first impression.”
“Which is usually the best one,” Jack argued.
“Probably. But we’ve got a day or two to think about it, don’t we?”
Jack accepted a plate with a slice of cake on it. Dorothy Rae declined the one passed to her. “We should get those posters into production by the end of the week.”
“I’ll give you my final decision well before then.”
“For God’s sake. Would somebody please…” Fancy was waving her hand toward Mandy. Getting the cake from plate to mouth had proved to be too much of a challenge for the three-year-old. Crumbs had fallen onto her dress and frosting was smeared across her mouth. She had tried to remedy the problem by wiping it away, but had only succeeded in getting her hands coated with sticky icing. “It’s just too disgusting to watch the little spook eat. Can I be excused?”
Without waiting for permission, Fancy scraped her chair back and stood, tossing her napkin into her plate. “I’m going into Kerrville and see if there’s a new movie on. Anybody want to go?” She included everybody in the invitation, but her eyes fell on Eddy. He was studiously eating his dessert. “Guess not.” Spinning around, she flounced from the room.
Avery was glad to see the little snot go. How dare she speak to a defenseless child so cruelly? Avery scooped Mandy into her lap. “Cake is just too good to eat without dropping a few crumbs, isn’t it, darling?” She wrapped a corner of her linen napkin around her index finger, dunked it into her water glass, and went to work on the frosting covering Mandy’s face.
“Your girl is getting out of hand, Dorothy Rae,” Nelson observed. “That skirt she was wearing was so short, it barely covered her privates.”
Dorothy Rae pushed her limp bangs off her forehead. “I try, Nelson. It’s Jack who lets her get by with murder.”
“That’s a goddamn lie,” he exclaimed in protest. “I’ve got her going to work every day, don’t I? That’s more constructive than anything you’ve been able to get her to do.”
“She should be in school,” Nelson declared. “Never should have let her up and quit like that without even finishing the semester. What’s going to become of her? What kind of life will she have without an education?” He shook his head with dire premonition. “She’ll pay dearly for her bad choices. So will you. You reap what you sow, you know.”
Avery agreed with him. Fancy was entirely out of control, and it was no doubt her parents’ fault. Still, she didn’t think Nelson should discuss their parental shortcomings with everybody else present.
“I don’t think anything short of a bath is going to do Mandy any good,” she said, grateful for the excuse to leave the table. “Will you please excuse us?”
“D
o you need any help?” Zee asked.
“No, thank you.” Then, realizing that she was usurping the bedtime ritual from Zee, who must have enjoyed it very much, she added, “Since this is my first night home, I’d like to put her to bed myself. It was a lovely dinner, Zee. Thank you.”
“I’ll be in to tell Mandy good night later,” Tate called after them as Avery carried the child from the dining room.
* * *
“Well, I see that nothing’s changed.”
Dorothy Rae weaved her way across the sitting room and collapsed into one of two chairs parked in front of a large-screen TV set. Jack was occupying the other chair. “Did you hear me?” she asked when several seconds ticked by and he still hadn’t said anything.
“I heard you, Dorothy Rae. And if by ‘nothing’s changed’ you mean that you’re shit-faced again tonight, then you’re right. Nothing’s changed.”
“What I mean is that you can’t keep your eyes off your brother’s wife.”
Jack was out of his chair like a shot. He slapped his palm against the switch on the TV, shutting up Johnny Carson in midjoke. “You’re drunk and disgusting. I’m going to bed.” He stamped into the connecting bedroom. Dorothy Rae struggled to get out of her chair and follow him. The hem of her robe trailed behind her.
“Don’t try to deny it,” she said with a sob. “I was watching you. All through dinner, you were drooling over Carole and her pretty new face.”
Jack removed his shirt, balled it up, and flung it into the clothes hamper. He bent over to unlace his shoes. “The only one who drools in this family is you, when you get so drunk you can’t control yourself.”
Reflexively, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. People who had known Dorothy Rae Hancock when she was growing up wouldn’t believe what she had become in middle age. She’d been the belle of Lampasas High School; her rein had lasted all four years.
Her daddy had been a prominent attorney in town. She, his only child, was the apple of his eye. The way he doted on her had made her the envy of everybody who knew her. He’d taken her to Dallas twice a year to shop at Neiman-Marcus for her seasonal wardrobes. He’d given her a brand new Corvette convertible on her sixteenth birthday.
Her mother had had a fit and said it was too much car for a young girl to be driving, but Hancock had poured his wife another stiff drink and told her that if he’d wanted her worthless opinion about anything, he would have asked for it.
After graduating from high school, Dorothy Rae had gone off in a blaze of glory to enter the University of Texas in Austin. She met Jack Rutledge during her junior year, fell madly in love, and became determined to have him for her very own. She’d never been denied anything in her life, and she didn’t intend to start with missing out on the only man she would every truly love.
Jack, struggling through his second year in law school, was in love with Dorothy Rae, too, but he couldn’t even think about marriage until after he finished school. His daddy expected him not only to graduate, but to rank high in his class. His daddy also expected him to be chivalrous where women were concerned.
So when Jack finally succumbed to temptation and relieved Dorothy Rae Hancock of her virginity, he was in a quandary as to which had priority—chivalry toward the lady or responsibility toward parental expectations. Dorothy Rae spurred him into making a decision when she weepily told him that she was late getting her period.
Panicked, Jack figured that an untimely marriage was better than an untimely baby and prayed that Nelson would figure it that way, too. He and Dorothy Rae drove to Oklahoma over the weekend, wed in secret, and broke the glad tidings to their parents after the fact.
Nelson and Zee were disappointed, but after getting Jack’s guarantee that he had no intention of dropping out of law school, they welcomed Dorothy Rae into the family.
The Hancocks of Lampasas didn’t take the news quite so well. Her elopement nearly killed Dorothy Rae’s daddy. In fact, he dropped dead of a heart attack one month after the nuptials. Dorothy Rae’s unstable mother was committed to an alcohol abuse hospital. On the day of her release several weeks later, she was deemed dried out and cured. Three days later, she ran her car into a bridge abutment while driving drunk. She died on impact.
Francine Angela wasn’t born until eighteen months after Dorothy Rae’s marriage to Jack. It was either the longest pregnancy in history or she had tricked him into marriage.
He had never accused her of either, but, as though in self-imposed penance, she had had two miscarriages in quick succession when Fancy was still a baby.
The last miscarriage had proved to be life-threatening, so the doctor had tied her tubes to prevent future pregnancies. To blunt the physical, mental, and emotional pain this caused her, Dorothy Rae began treating herself to a cocktail every afternoon. And when that didn’t work, she treated herself to two.
“How can you look yourself in the mirror,” she demanded of her husband now, “knowing that you love your brother’s wife?”
“I don’t love her.”
“No, you don’t, do you?” Leaning close, she poisoned the air between them with the intoxicating fumes of her breath. “You hate her because she treats you like dirt. She wipes her feet on you. You can’t even see that all these changes in her are just—”
“What changes?” Instead of hanging his pants on the hanger in his hand, he dropped them into a chair. “She explained about using her left hand, you know.”
Having won his attention, Dorothy Rae pulled herself up straight and assumed the air of superiority that only drunks can assume. “Other changes,” she said loftily. “Haven’t you noticed them?”
“Maybe. Like what?”
“Like the attention she’s showering on Mandy and the way she’s sucking up to Tate.”
“She’s been through a lot. She’s mellowed.”
“Ha!” she crowed indelicately. “Her? Mellowed? God above, you’re blind where she’s concerned.” Her blue eyes tried to focus on his face. “Since that plane crash, she’s like a different person, and you know it. But it’s all for show,” she stated knowingly.
“Why should she bother?”
“Because she wants something.” She swayed toward him and tapped his chest for emphasis. “Probably, she’s playing the good little senator’s wife so she’ll get to move to Washington with Tate. What’ll you do then, Jack? Huh? What’ll you do with your sinful lust then?”
“Maybe I’ll start drinking and keep you company.”
She raised a shaky hand and pointed her finger at him. “Don’t get off the subject. You want Carole. I know you do,” she finished with another sob.
Jack, once more bored with her inebriated rambling, finished hanging up his clothes, then methodically went around the room, switching off lamps and turning down the bed. “Come to bed, Dorothy Rae,” he said wearily.
She caught his arm. “You never loved me.”
“That’s not true.”
“You think I tricked you into marrying me.”
“I never said that.”
“I thought I was pregnant. I did!”
“I know you did.”
“Because you didn’t love me, you thought it was okay to go after other women.” Her eyes narrowed on him accusingly. “I know there have been others. You’ve cheated on me so many times, it’s no wonder I drink.”
Tears were streaming down her face. Ineffectually, she slapped his bare shoulder. “I drink because my husband doesn’t love me. Never did. And now he’s in love with his brother’s wife.”
Jack crawled into bed, turned onto his side, and pulled the covers up over himself. His nonchalance enraged her. On her knees, she walked to the center of the bed and began pounding on his back with her fists. “Tell me the truth. Tell me how much you love her. Tell me how much you despise me.”
Her anger and strength were rapidly exhausted, as he had known they would be. She collapsed beside him, losing consciousness instantly. Jack rolled to his side and adjusted the
covers over her. Then, heaving an unhappy sigh, he lay back down and tried to sleep.
Sixteen
“I thought she would be in bed by now.”
Tate spoke from the doorway of Mandy’s bathroom. Avery was kneeling beside the tub, where Mandy was worming her fingers through a mound of bubbles.
“She probably should be, but we went a little overboard with the bubble bath.”
“So I see.”
Tate came in and sat down on the lid of the commode. Mandy smiled up at him.
“Do your trick for Daddy,” Avery told her.
Obediently, the child cupped a handful of suds and blew on them hard, sending clumps of white foam flying in all directions. Several landed on Tate’s knee. He made a big deal of it. “Whoa, there, Mandy, girl! You’re taking the bath, not me.”
She giggled and scooped up another handful. This time a dollop of suds landed on Avery’s nose. To Mandy’s delight, she sneezed. “I’d better put a stop to this before it gets out of hand.” She bent over the tub, slid her hands into Mandy’s armpits, and lifted her out.
“Here, give her to me.” Tate was waiting to wrap up his daughter in a towel.
“Careful. Slippery when wet.”
Mandy, bundled in soft pink terry cloth, was carried into her adjoining bedroom and set down beside her bed. Her chubby little feet sank into the thick rug. Its luxuriant nap swallowed all ten toes. Tate sat down on the edge of her bed and began drying her with experienced hands.
“Nightie?” he asked, looking up at Avery expectantly.
“Oh, yes. Coming right up.” There was a tall, six-drawer chest and a wide, three-drawer bureau. Where would the nighties be kept? She moved toward the bureau and opened the top drawer. Socks and panties.
“Carole? Second drawer.”
Avery responded with aplomb. “She’ll need underwear, too, won’t she?” He unwound the towel from around Mandy and helped her step into her underwear, then pulled the nightgown over her head while Avery turned down her bed. He lifted Mandy into it.
