Texas Rich

by Fern Michaels

  At the front portico Carlo opened the door for them and tipped his hat. Jessica gave him instructions concerning the baggage. The ethereal grace of the rose garden and the feminine sweep of the clematis vine surrounding the heavy oak doors did nothing to prepare Billie for the inside of the house. Shining oaken floors, massive beams studding the ceilings, thick dark Oriental carpets, and man-sized leather furniture. As Jessica took her on a tour of the downstairs rooms, it was_ easy for Billie to imagine them filled with smoke and noisy with deep masculine voices and thudding high-heeled cowboy boots. Panoramic paintings filled the walls, all of them depicting burly, tanned men at some masculine endeavor: branding steers, breaking horses, riding the range. It seemed that Jessica’s feminine influence stopped in the gardens. The great house of Sunbridge was Seth Coleman’s domain and every detail of the furnishings stated that fact.

  “Come upstairs, Billie,” Jessica said. “We’ve opened the second floor of the east wing for you and Agnes, and of course for Moss when he comes home. I hope you’ll like what I’ve done with your room.”

  Here Jessica had exerted her influence. Pastel-colored walls, vases of fresh flowers, lighter, feminine furnishings. Billie’s own bedroom was larger than the entire downstairs of the house on Elm Street. Soft mint-green silk moiré covered the walls, while pinks and golds were used for the draperies and bedspread. A luxurious carpet in a soft green-and-beige pattern quieted footsteps.

  “It’s such a large house,” Billie said with wonder. “Our house back in Philadelphia could fit in this one at least six times. You don’t try to keep it up yourself, do you?”

  “My, no! The rose garden alone would put me under.” Jessica laughed lightly. “There’s Carlo, whom you’ve met. He chauffeurs and acts as a general handyman about the house. He’s married to Tita, our cook, and he does the shopping for her, as well as other errands. Besides Tita, there are two or three other young Mexicans who come in for general cleaning and laundry. Then there are the stablehands and of course Julio, our gardener. Sunbridge supports quite a few people, Billie. Ever since Amelia—that’s Moss’s sister, you know—left for England, I’m quite grateful for female companionship. And now that you and your mother are here, I couldn’t be more delighted. I want us to be friends, Billie. More than that, I’d like it if you learned to think of me as a second mother, if it’s possible.”

  Billie was so heart-touched that she found herself rising above her initial shyness and stepping into Jessica’s outstretched arms. “Moss loves you very much,” she whispered, “and I know I’m going to love you, too.”

  Jessica’s eyes were bright with tears. “It’s going to be so good to have you here, child. And a baby on the way! Sunbridge has been lonely without young people and children. Now off to bed with you. I can imagine how nice it will be to be in a bed that isn’t rocking back and forth.”

  During her first days at Sunbridge, Billie kept very much to her room. A stationary bed did not work its prescribed miracle. Billie still teetered on the edge of nausea for most of the day, and when she didn’t, she was so exhausted from retching that she confined herself to the bedroom. Jessica fussed and fretted over her. Billie had never felt more loved than by this gentle white-haired mother-in-law, who spent hours with her to keep her from being lonely. Everything about Moss’s mother was kind, gentle, considerate. Billie saw very little of Agnes during this time except for morning and evening visits, when she regaled Billie with her observations of Sunbridge. Agnes was very busy these days, familiarizing herself with every detail of the Colemans’ house and family history.

  One morning when Agnes came to sit with Billie over a cup of tea, Billie mentioned how helpful and concerned Jessica was. “Well, she should be,” Agnes stated flatly, fussing with her ever-present rope of pearls. “After all, you are going to bring her first grandchild into the world.”

  Billie blinked and stared at Agnes. This was going to be her mother’s first grandchild, also.

  “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Billie, and you’re wrong. I’m delighted about the baby and I do worry about you. It’s just that... well, I’m much younger than Jessica, you must realize. I haven’t really adjusted to the thought of becoming a grandmother. I feel as though a whole new world has opened up for us and I’m determined to explore it. You understand, don’t you, dear.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “Besides, I mustn’t be selfish. I’ve had a lovely daughter and Jessica hasn’t been quite so lucky with Amelia. You’ve never given me a day’s trouble, but, from what I understand, Moss’s sister has been quite a hellcat, rebellious since the day she was born. Certainly not the kind of daughter that brings a mother gratification.”

  “But Jessica loves Amelia dearly!” Billie exclaimed.

  “Of course she does—Amelia is her daughter. But from what I gather, Amelia’s running off to England was more to get out of a rather nasty scrape here than from any display of patriotism. Besides,” Agnes added, lowering her voice, “we all know what kind of girls join the military, don’t we?”

  “Amelia didn’t ‘run off’ to England, Mother; she was assigned there,” said Billie. “She joined the Women’s Army Corp right here in Texas and the WACs are important to the war effort. I just hope you never hurt Jessica by insinuating anything else.”

  Agnes interrupted with a change of subject. “Has Seth come to see you this morning?”

  “Yes, he did, but I don’t think he likes me, Mother.”

  “Don’t be silly, and don’t you antagonize Seth, Billie. He’s simply a very autocratic man and autocratic men find it very difficult to show affection.”

  At this, Billie raised her eyebrows. “And did you learn this from the same person who told you about Amelia? I find it strange that you’d defend Seth and at the same time be critical of Jessica.”

  “I wasn’t being critical, just observant.” Agnes placed her cup and saucer back on Billie’s breakfast tray and then stood up, smoothing her russet silk dress.

  “Isn’t that a new dress, Mother?”

  “Yes, and don’t you think it’s the perfect color for me? It’s been so long since I’ve had anything as nice as this and there are several more on order. The sale of the house should go through anytime now, so I’m not afraid to dip into my savings, just a bit.”

  Billie, who had an eye for fabric and fashion, realized that it had taken more than a bit of dipping to buy this dress. She looked at her mother objectively. There were subtle changes about Agnes.... She seemed more polished and put together, somehow. Was it that she was wearing more makeup these days? Or was it just being here at Sunbridge that put color in her cheeks and a glow in her eyes? Billie sighed. She supposed she’d been selfish. She hadn’t noticed the strain her mother had been under for so many years to provide for both of them. Now mundane worries like taxes and grocery bills were no longer her concern.

  “You look wonderful, Mother,” Billie said.

  “I wish I could say the same for you, Billie. Why, you’re positively haggard—no wonder Seth doesn’t like to come up to visit! When are you going to get out of that bed and come downstairs? The Texas sun is wonderful and at least it would help you get rid of that sickroom pallor. Pregnancy isn’t a disease, you know, Billie!”

  “I do get out of bed.” Tears came unbidden to Billie’s eyes. She cried so easily these days. And she was always so sleepy when she wasn’t sick.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Agnes was halfway to the bed to embrace Billie when she remembered her silk dress. Even one tear would stain it beyond repair. “It’s only that I worry about you. Perhaps you can go down and sit on the verandah. That wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

  “No, I suppose not.” Billie lay back against her pillows. The tea she sipped was roiling through her stomach and she recognized the signal. Agnes also recognized the green tinge to Billie’s complexion.

  “I’ll be downstairs, Billie. Call if you need me,” Agnes said over her shoulder as she ma
de a hasty exit.

  During the second week at Sunbridge, when Billie was feeling no better, she resentfully surrendered to Seth’s authority. He arranged a series of tests at the hospital in Austin. Dr. Adam Ward became Billie’s physician on call. What this meant, Seth explained, was that he was available for the slightest problem. If even a headache lasted more than an hour or two, Adam was to be summoned. It was an order. Billie nodded her compliance. Later Agnes told Billie that the entire third floor wing of the hospital had been donated by the Colemans and it was there that the baby would be born. The Coleman heir.

  Dr. Ward prescribed vitamins for Billie and a daily regimen of diet and exercise. There were to be twice-weekly vitamin B injections as well, which the doctor administered himself at Sunbridge. That a busy physician would drive the forty-plus miles from Austin was her first realization of Seth Coleman’s clout. In Philadelphia, a doctor made house calls only if his patient was completely unable to make the trip to his office.

  Aside from a telegram informing them that he’d arrived safely in San Diego, there had been no word from Moss. Billie wrote him care of an APO number, San Francisco. V-mail was notoriously slow, she’d been told when she’d fretted about Moss’s not answering her letters. She wrote every night, using the onionskin paper commonly known as V-mail stationery that Jessica had brought her from the post office.

  After the very first vitamin B injection Billie began to feel more like herself. But the days were still long and lonely for her. It was Jessica who kept Billie company on those afternoon’s when she was feeling better. Billie welcomed Jessica’s attentions and company. She liked to hear stories about Moss when he was a child, and looking through the family photo album was one of her favorite pastimes. One day, Jessica asked Billie if she would like to see Moss’s room.

  Jessica opened the door to a room on the second floor, west wing. “This was Moss’s room when he was a boy,” Jessica explained. “When he was seventeen he moved to the room next to yours. And then, of course, he went off to college.” Billie stepped inside and immediately felt herself immersed in Moss’s life. School banners almost covered the walls by the narrow low bed. Books, hockey sticks, baseball bats, and other assorted sports equipment littered the corners. Dresser tops and bookshelves were studded with sports trophies, and from the ceiling, on fine, almost invisible wires, hung model planes, put together by Moss himself with painstaking attention to detail.

  “Why don’t I just leave you here, Billie? That’s the first. smile I’ve seen on your face in almost a week,” Jessica said. “If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen with Tita, going over next week’s shopping list. When you’re through here, I’ve something else to show you.”

  Jessica closed the door quietly, a sympathetic smile touching her lips. Poor Billie, she missed Moss so. Such a quick courtship, so little time to get to know each other. And now there was a baby on the way. As she walked to the kitchen, she thought of Seth’s disapproval of Billie—“not the stuff Colemans are made of.” But there was one thing Seth and that lovely girl had in common: their love for Moss. The thought occurred to Jessica that perhaps Seth was so disagreeable to Billie for just that reason—he saw the girl as a rival for Moss’s affections. Well, Jessica sighed, hadn’t that always been the case? Since the day of Moss’s birth nothing and no one else had existed for Seth, and that included herself and poor Amelia, who had tried her whole life to gain her father’s love. And when she’d failed, Amelia had opted for her father’s attention instead. That was the reason for most of her scrapes and rebellion. It seemed that all of them, Moss included, thought nothing was as important as being worthy of Seth’s love. A love so grudgingly given.

  Billie hardly heard the door close, so enthralled was she at being surrounded by Moss’s things. It wasn’t difficult to imagine his young dark head bent over the scarred and battered desk as he studied his schoolwork or meticulously painted one of his model planes—and so many of them! It was easy to see that his love of flying had begun at an early age. Her eyes wandered over a cabinet filled with athletic trophies, the floor-to-ceiling shelves littered also with books, some of them read over and over again, judging by the tattered corners and dog-eared pages. Photographs hung on the walls—Moss playing baseball, football, one with his arm around a pretty girl at what must have been his senior prom. She was a slender girl with dark hair and angular features. Several photographs were of Moss with this girl. One, bent and dog-eared, as though it had been carried for a long time inside a wallet, was of the girl, stylishly dressed in ski togs, smiling up at Moss, who had his arm around her possessively. Across the bottom, Moss had scrawled, “Alice ‘n’ me.”

  Billie knew a pang of jealousy. Who was Alice?

  Several photographs were of himself with his sister, Amelia, whom Billie recognized from pictures Jessica had shown her. Two sleek dark heads close together, Amelia’s arm around a pony’s neck, Moss grinning into the camera while he authoritatively held the animal’s bridle.

  Sinking down onto the foot of the narrow bed, Billie smoothed her hand over the green wool sweater that lay beside her. There was so much about Moss she didn’t know, couldn’t even imagine. He was still a stranger, she realized sadly, a man who had come into her life and taken her heart. There had never seemed to be time for questions, for delving into the past. All that had mattered was the present, the all-too-short present. And now here she sat among his things, in this room that seemed to be maintained as a shrine to his youth. She felt as though she’d been sent here to Texas to be stored among his possessions and to wait for his return, something more that belonged to Moss. Unthinkingly, her hand went protectively to her middle, where the life their love had created nestled warm and safe within , her. This was Moss’s also. And the baby would wait, just as she would, to be reclaimed.

  The feelings of an echoing past stayed with Billie when Jessica took her later to the little workroom behind the stable. Here an older Moss had littered the small space with radio innards, electric motors, screwdrivers. Here, too, was the sense that Moss had only just left for a little while, that any instant he would appear at the door to finish a project or begin another.

  “This should have been cleared out long ago,” Jessica complained good-naturedly, “but Seth wouldn’t hear of it. That man’s as stubborn as a sore-toed mule. It’s not as though Moss will ever use this place to tinker again, not when he’s got factories and laboratories with all the latest equipment.” , Billie’s brows lifted in question. “That’s right, dear. Didn’t Moss tell you? Or was he too busy sweeping you off your feet?” Jessica laughed indulgently. “Seth’s business isn’t just cattle and oil. Heavens, no. The Colemans are involved in aeronautics and electronics. Moss always was bright when it came to new ideas or new uses for old ones. That’s a direct quote from Seth, but I was always proud of Moss, too. Considering the way his father dotes on him—and certainly he never wanted for anything money could buy—Moss was never spoiled or lazy, never what you’d call a playboy. He gets more pleasure from his little inventions than he would from a new sports car.” Jessica’s pride in her son was evident in her glowing smile. “Moss always had good judgment, I’m glad to say, and he’s shown extraordinary taste when it comes to choosing a wife.”

  Jessica threw her arms around Billie and hugged her. “You’ve become very dear to me, child. I won’t pretend it doesn’t have something to do with the baby, but I’m so glad you’ve come to Sunbridge.”

  “Moss’s good judgment extends to his choice of mothers,” Billie teased, returning the hug. “And thank you for showing me his room and his workshop. There’s so much about my husband I don’t know.”

  “The Coleman men are a hard lot to understand, Billie. There’s a lot of Seth in Moss, and even being married for almost thirty years I still can’t say I know my husband. But this is Moss’s world, Billie, and it must become yours if you’re ever to be happy. Your child will belong to Sunbridge. And while you’re discovering Moss’s world and his work, I h
ope it will bring him closer to you, ease some of the loneliness.”

  Together, Billie and Jessica stepped out of the workshop and into the bright Texas sun. When Billie looked over the expanse of lawn and the pastures beyond, she tried to see through Moss’s eyes. Sunbridge. Moss’s home. Would it ever be home to her?

  Seth was taking unusually long to select his dinner clothes. Normally he reached into the closet and whatever his hand touched was what he wore. Tonight there were guests. Guests, he snorted. Moss’s sickly-looking wife and her mother, who could double as a barracuda. He withdrew a five-hundred-dollar, custom-made suede jacket that was the color of tumbleweed. He had a shirt to match and he’d even wear a tie. Dress up, spruce up, show off a little. Agnes Ames would catalog his entire outfit complete with prices. He hadn’t managed to get this far in life without knowing something about people, and Seth had seen Agnes before, in himself. There was a burning fever in her eyes that had once been in his own.

  The pier glass threw back his reflection. He looked fine. Fitter than a tick on a brown dog, and the image of success. Not long ago Texan magazine had done a spread on him, noting his humble beginnings. Humble my ass, Seth snorted. Born to an abjectly poor tenant farmer, he had worked by day beside his five brothers and his father to eke out a living from the barren land. By night, he’d huddled on a bare mattress with only unwashed brothers for warmth. He would never forget the stink. He would never forget any of it.... His ma was always carrying a big belly or spewing another life into the already too crowded shack. The naked defeat in her eyes and the stench of moonshine on his father’s breath convinced him at an early age that life on someone else’s land would never bring a man a good meal or a clean bed.