From Here to Home

by Marie Bostwick

  “Mom!” Holly gasped. “You’re in trouble with the IRS? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Rachel spread out her hands. “Why didn’t I tell you? Because of this! Because I knew this was exactly how you’d react.”

  Holly gave her mother a disapproving stare and carried the plates to the table. Rachel refilled the iced tea glasses.

  “Anyway, I’m telling you now. Everything is fine. This gig at the casino means I’ll be able to catch up for the rest of this year. So don’t lecture me, okay?”

  Rachel sat down and so did Holly.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to lecture you. I just worry about you. I just wish you’d told me; that’s all. Maybe I could have helped.”

  “That’s very sweet, but I’m the one who got myself into this mess and I’m the one who has to get myself out of it. And I will. Mikey and I had a long talk—he really is a nice guy. If I hadn’t been such an idiot . . .”

  Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed. “Anyway, water under the bridge. After I get to Vegas, Mikey is introducing me to a money manager he knows. Hopefully the gig at the casino will lead to other jobs and I can dig myself out of this hole. We’ll see.” Rachel took a bite of her salad. “Honey, this is really good.”

  “Thanks. New recipe,” Holly said absently. “Listen, Mom. If you ever are in trouble, you know I’d help you, right?”

  “And I appreciate that. But you need to look out for your own future, Holly. This is a very insecure business.” Rachel sighed again and speared a slice of nectarine with her fork. “Sometimes I think I should have listened to my dad and become a PE teacher.”

  “A PE teacher? You?” Holly laughed. “Yeah, right. You could never have been anything but a singer and actress, and you know it.”

  “You’re probably right. The only reason to be an artist is because you can’t not. If you can think of any other way to be happy, then do. Really. Speaking of being happy—have you been in touch with Jason? Any word on whether or not they’re going through with the design show?”

  Holly was glad her mouth was full of salad so she didn’t have to actually lie to her mother out loud. This way, she could just shake her head, which didn’t seem quite as bad. The truth was that, at the moment, the only person Jason disliked more than Holly was Mary Dell, something that didn’t bode well for her future at HHN-TV. But why worry Rachel about that?

  More and more, Holly was beginning to wonder if she even liked doing TV. Quintessential Quilting was definitely more fun than doing the game show, but it still wasn’t as fulfilling as she’d hoped. And she wasn’t sure the design show would be any better. Working in television had its moments, but could Holly say that she was in the business because she couldn’t imagine not being in it? Definitely not. But she didn’t feel that way about anything else either, and television did pay the rent, at least for now.

  “How else are things going?” Rachel asked after Holly finished swallowing. “How’s the horse?”

  “Stormy? He’s great!”

  Holly’s face lit up as she told Rachel about Stormy’s progress, the bond of trust that had formed between them, and the thrill of riding over the fields at a full gallop, as well as the various training techniques and goals she was working toward. After about six minutes, Rachel held up her hand.

  “Honey, you lost me at dressage. But I get the general idea—you’re crazy about Stormy.”

  “I am,” Holly said. “Spending time with him is the best part of my day.”

  “And what about your cowboy? Still like spending time with him?” Rachel asked, and then, seeing the way Holly’s expression transitioned from glowing to bemused, she said, “Or has that burnt itself out already?”

  “I’m not sure it ever really caught fire. I thought it did, but . . .” Holly shrugged. “Ever since the birthday party it feels like maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I did something wrong? I mean, one day he wouldn’t let go of my hand and introduced me as his girl, and the next day it feels like he’s avoiding me. I don’t get it.”

  “Fear of commitment,” Rachel said without hesitation.

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely. You got too close, too fast. It scared him. Just hang back a little bit, don’t push. Let him come to you. If he doesn’t, then he wasn’t the man for you anyway.

  “Of course,” Rachel said as she speared the last bites of salad with her fork, “this is advice I have never, ever been able to follow in my life. Not once. But, personally, I think that’s a pretty good indicator of just how good it is. Do as I say, sweetie, not as I do. You’ll be a lot happier.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Hub-Jay was in a meeting with David, catching up on a few staffing issues that had come up during the course of David’s recent vacation. After working through the agenda, Hub-Jay had planned to tell David that he was considering him for the general manager position at the Fort Worth property, set to open the following spring, and wanted to move him into an assistant manager role at the Hollander Grand as soon as possible. But their conversation was interrupted when Hub-Jay’s assistant rang in, saying that Gloria Benavides, his attorney, was on the line.

  “Do you want me to step outside?” David asked, rising halfway from his seat.

  Hub-Jay waved him back into his chair. David was his right-hand man and as discrete as the day was long; that was one of the reasons for the promotion. Hub-Jay knew he could trust him not to repeat anything he heard.

  “It’s all right. This shouldn’t take long.”

  Hub-Jay put the receiver to his ear and punched a button on the phone. “Hey, Glo. Thanks for calling back.”

  “Sorry it took so long. I was in depositions all morning. What can I do for you, Hub-Jay?”

  “You know that other matter we discussed before?”

  “Trying to track down Mary Dell’s husband so she can serve him with divorce papers? I thought you said that she said she wanted to put the wedding plans on hold until she was able to get her son through this kidney thing. Did Mary Dell turn out to be a good donor match?”

  “No,” Hub-Jay answered. “The kidney disease definitely comes from her. Sounds like she got it from her father, since her mom is fine. The doctor even speculated that her dad’s aneurysm, the one that caused the car crash that killed her sister and brother-in-law, might have been a result of undiagnosed kidney disease. Apparently, that’s one of the complications.”

  “That’s terrible. Is Mary Dell all right?”

  “Absolutely fine. She’ll need to be monitored from here on out, but, as of this moment, she’s not suffering from any symptoms. But this knocks her out as a donor.”

  “Oh, the poor thing. She must be so upset.”

  “She’s pretty torn up. I think a part of her feels guilty, you know, because she was the carrier.”

  “That wasn’t her fault,” Gloria countered. “She didn’t even know she had it.”

  “That’s what I keep telling her. Anyway, the only thing that will help right now is to find a kidney donor for Howard. I’m getting tested to see if I’m a match, and so is about half the town of Too Much. But the chances of finding a match among relatives is much more likely, the closer the better.”

  “And so you want me to see if I can find Howard’s father?” Gloria asked, connecting the final dots on her own.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Give me his name again and anything else you know about him.”

  Hub-Jay pulled a legal pad off the desk, spun around in his chair so he was facing the window, and read the notes that he’d jotted down in anticipation of Gloria’s question.

  “Donald Hobart Bebee, goes by Donny. Six foot two, blue eyes, age sixty-three, which means his hair is probably gray. Occupation, cattle and sheep ranching, but that was thirty years ago. At this point, he could be doing just about anything and living just about anywhere. He did send a few cards with cash or money orders over the years, but there were no return addresses.”

  “Postmarks?”

 
; “Out of state—Arkansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico. Almost always states bordering Texas. But he did call recently, first time in thirty years. There was no caller ID showing, but it was a four-three-two area code.”

  “So, somewhere in West Texas. Do you have the rest of the number?” Hub-Jay read off the numbers. “Okay, I’ll see if we can trace it. What else?”

  “That’s all.”

  Gloria made a sputtering sound with her lips. “We’ll do our best, but I’m not going to lie to you; this won’t be easy. It’s not much to go on, and after thirty years.”

  “I know, but I have to try.”

  “Okay, I’ll get right on this. But, Hub-Jay?” She was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you want to bring this guy back? I mean, he’s been working hard to stay lost for a long time. Suppose he is a match but doesn’t want to give up his kidney? It’s not like he’s ever been there for his kid before; why would anybody expect that to change now? Or,” she said, in her best law school hypothetical voice, “suppose he is a match and is willing to give up his kidney for his son. I can’t think of a more certain way to rehabilitate a deadbeat dad into a returning hero. Are you sure you want to give this guy that kind of credibility? Especially since Mary Dell still hasn’t announced the engagement?”

  Hub-Jay worked his lips as he listened. Gloria was an excellent attorney, determined and relentless. If anybody could track down Donny, she could. It was her job to advise him of all the possible legal, financial, and emotional facts and complications of any given transaction. But, sometimes, he wished she’d be just a little bit less craven.

  “We’re talking about possibly saving a human life here, Gloria. And not just any life, but Howard’s, the young man who I hope will be my stepson someday. So, I have to say, I’m not real concerned about how this affects me right now.”

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, hearing the irritation in his voice. “I was just trying to—”

  “Just find him, Gloria.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll start working on it now.”

  “Thank you.”

  Hub-Jay spun his chair back toward his desk, put the phone down a little harder than he’d intended to, and looked up at David. He’d almost forgotten he was sitting there.

  “Sorry about that. I didn’t plan on it getting quite that involved. Now, David,” he said, clearing his throat, “there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about. Good news, I think. For both of us—”

  David scooted forward in his seat. “Mr. Hollander, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. I didn’t realize that Miss Mary Dell’s son was so sick. He needs a kidney? And you’re trying to find his father?”

  “That’s right.”

  David licked his lips. “Mr. Hollander, I can help. I think I know where to find Donny Bebee.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Standing at the stove, Taffy dipped a spoon in a stockpot, brought it to her lips, and made a face.

  “Still too bland,” she said as Mary Dell entered the kitchen. “You really don’t realize how much salt you use until some doctor comes along and says you can’t. But it’s worth the trouble just to have you and Howard home again.”

  She poured some dried oregano into her palm before tossing it into the pot.

  “I know he’s still upset about not being able to finish his art class this semester. Maybe a good dinner will help cheer him up.” She tasted the dish again. “Which, so far, this isn’t. Oh, well, there’s always dessert. That doctor didn’t say anything about him having to cut back on sugar, did he?”

  Getting no answer to her question, Taffy turned around.

  “I said, what did the doctor say about . . .” The glazed, almost slack-jawed look on her daughter’s face stopped her in mid-sentence.

  “Mary Dell, what’s wrong? Who were you talking to on the phone?”

  “Jason Alvarez.”

  Taffy curled her lip. “Oh, that little worm. What did he have to say?”

  “I’m fired.”

  On the other side of town, Holly was equally shocked at hearing the same bad news, in this case, from her agent.

  “But, Amanda, I don’t understand. How can they cancel us? The first episode hasn’t even aired yet.”

  “They can. Shows get canceled all the time; you know that. And your buddy Mary Dell made it easy for them, canceling out on two weeks of filming, leaving them four episodes behind schedule.”

  “Oh, come on! Her son was in the hospital. What was she supposed to do?”

  “She was supposed to go to work,” Amanda said without hesitation. “Flood, fire, famine, divorce, even death—unless it’s your own—you show up for work. That’s the way this business is. And you know that too.”

  Yes, she did.

  Because of the business, Rachel had had to miss Holly’s piano recitals, soccer games, and even her high school graduation. And when Holly got sick, a babysitter or housekeeper had been the one to take her temperature and bring her chicken soup, usually out of a can.

  Holly didn’t fault Rachel for that—that was the business, and Rachel was the sole breadwinner. But she didn’t fault Mary Dell for having different priorities. In her shoes, Holly hoped she’d have done the same thing.

  “But there was still time to make up the schedule,” Holly said. “We were all set to do it this week. Mary Dell and Howard came in from Dallas yesterday. We were going to film every day this week and wrap up the rest of the season. Jason didn’t have to cancel the show—he wanted to.”

  “Yes,” Amanda replied, “and Mary Dell gave him just the excuse he was looking for. Now he can get rid of her without paying any penalty because she was in violation of her contract.”

  Holly, who understood what could happen when you were found in violation of contract, bit her lower lip, worried for her friend.

  “You don’t think they’ll fine her, do you?”

  “They could,” Amanda said, the harshness in her voice indicating that she might have, had she been in charge, “but I doubt they will. The circumstances are a little bit dicey. There’d definitely be a lawsuit, and the public relations fallout that would come from firing and fining a mother for taking care of her sick, special needs son wouldn’t be pretty. I imagine they’ll leave well enough alone.”

  “That’s good at least.”

  “You know,” Amanda said, her irritation obvious, “I wish you’d take as much interest in your career as you seem to be taking in Mary Dell Templeton’s. Can we discuss your future now?”

  “Right. Sorry. So, what’s going to happen? Do they have to pay me a kill fee or anything?”

  “No. Nothing beyond what they’ve already paid out. Which means that you got your last paycheck two weeks ago. And, judging from the fact that you didn’t ask about the design show, I am guessing you know Jason dislikes you only slightly less than he loathes Mary Dell Templeton. So, we can kiss that one good-bye. I thought I told you to be nice to him and play ball.”

  “Yeah, well. I couldn’t seem to do that without losing my self-respect or my soul. So I didn’t.”

  Angry as Amanda was about this whole debacle, and knowing that at least part of her blamed Holly for not doing more to prevent it, Holly half-expected Amanda to tell her she needed to find a new agent, especially after that last little piece of lip. But instead, Amanda surprised her. She laughed.

  “Listen to you! You’ve grown a spine since the last time I saw you. All this time in Texas must be toughening you up, which is good. Jason is a slimy spawn of Satan; there’s no doubt about it. So, I forgive you. Just don’t make a habit of pissing off programing execs, okay?”

  Holly smiled. “Okay.”

  “Good. And speaking of advice, which I hope you didn’t ignore—have you been doing what I said about paying yourself first?”

  “I’ve got some savings,” Holly said. “About eighty-five thousand dollars.”

  “Good girl! And you don’t own a house so you don’t have to worry about paying a mor
tgage. That’ll help. How much is your rent there?”

  “Cheap. Six hundred dollars a month.”

  “Six hundred dollars a month! You can’t rent a parking space in LA for six hundred a month. And Too Much is only a two-hour drive from the Dallas airport?”

  “Uh-huh. Why all the questions?”

  “Because I think that, for the moment, you just ought to sit tight and stay in Texas. I’m putting out some feelers, trying to get you auditions for a morning show in Little Rock and a spokesmodel job at the SATC network.”

  “The Shop Around the Clock channel? Amanda,” she moaned, “not that. I’d have been better off staying at the game show than going to SATC.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Amanda said testily, “but there aren’t going to be a lot of television auditions until later in the season. So you can’t afford to be quite so picky. After all, a girl’s got to work, doesn’t she?”

  “I know,” Holly replied glumly. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Amanda sighed. “This hasn’t been my favorite day either. Anyway, I think the best thing for you to do right now would be to stay in Too Much. You’ll go through your savings slower there, and if I need to send you to an audition, you can fly out of Dallas as easily as LA.”

  “Oh, I . . . I don’t know. Maybe I could stay at my mom’s place. She’s in Vegas for the next three months and her condo hasn’t sold. I could stay there for free.”

  “Yeah, but what about the horse? You can’t exactly keep a stallion in a condo.”

  “Stormy is a gelding.”

  “Okay, and if I knew what that meant I’m sure I’d care, but you still can’t keep a horse in a condo in LA. Besides, I thought you liked Texas.”

  “Oh, I do,” she said sincerely. “It’s just that . . . things have gotten a little complicated.”

  “Uh-oh. What’d you do? Fall in love with a cowboy or something?”

  “Something like that,” Holly admitted.

  Amanda clucked her tongue chidingly. “Big mistake. Men always are. Doesn’t have to be a cowboy. Mine was a shoe salesman, until he let me work my butt off putting him through law school so he could dump me for some chick who sells jewelry on Etsy. The jewelry he bought from her was supposed to be for me, I might add. Now she lives in my old house.”