Texas Rich

by Fern Michaels

  Angry and frustrated, Billie kicked off her sandals and ran into the ocean. She struck out, beating at the waves as though they were the enemy. By the time she swam back to shore she could feel the tension finally leaving her shoulders.

  Imperceptibly the slim shoulders squared. Moss wanted her attired in a muumuu. Moss would find her attired in a muumuu. Somehow, some way, she would find one. She shivered in the cool early-morning air. A smile touched her lips when she saw Phillip dozing on the lanai side of the house. She dried off and went in search of the housekeeper. When there was no answer to her quiet knock, she opened the door and stepped in. Again she squared her shoulders. She needed a little Coleman guts to do what she had to do. Gently she shook the plump woman’s shoulder. “Wake up, Rosa. I need your help. Big pilikia,” she said. “I need your help. You have to get up. Come, please. I know it’s early, but it’s going to be a busy day.” The plump woman glared at her and smiled at the same time. “Please, Rosa,” Billie pleaded.

  Rosa rolled over, the bed springs creaking with her weight. “You wake me when sun high,” she muttered, pulling the sheet over her head.

  “Rosa, you don’t understand. You have to get up, wikiwiki. Now. I need a muumuu. It’s so important to me. I’ll have to try to make one somehow. Is there a sewing machine here someplace?” Billie was so frustrated she wanted to stomp her feet and wail like a banshee. How could this woman sleep like this? How could she lie there and refuse to help her? Her happiness depended on getting a muumuu.

  Phillip, perhaps he could help. Billie raced back to the lanai to rouse Rosa’s husband. She hated to wake the old man after he’d worked all night with Moss, but she had no other choice. She shook him awake, none too gently. A full fifteen minutes later Billie had Phillip’s less-than-interested attention. At least his eyes were open, she told herself. Quickly she explained her problem. Phillip snorted. “You tell she look like Queen Kamamalu. She get up and do what you say. Is only way. But you no mention word tattoo. She want. You listen good.”

  “Yes, yes. I understand. Don’t say anything about a tattoo. Tell her she looks like Queen Kamamalu. That’s it? That’s all I have to do?” But Phillip was already asleep.

  Billie rolled the queen’s name over and over on her tongue. She had to look up the famous lady in Miss Kamali’s library. Queen Kamamalu, Queen Kamamalu, Queen Kamamalu, she repeated to herself as she sprinted down the right wing of the house where Rosa slept. “Rosa, I had to come back and tell you something.” Billie’s voice was a bare whisper. “I simply couldn’t let another day go by without telling you that I think you look just like Queen . . . Queen Kamamalu. You really do.” Childishly she crossed her fingers for the little white lie she was being forced to tell. Maybe it wasn’t a lie at all. She uncrossed her fingers.

  Rosa rolled over and sat upright. “You think so, Missy Billie? Nobody believe but Phillip. Need tattoo here and here and here,” Rosa said, jabbing at herself. “Queen Kamamalu much tattoo. Phillip say no.”

  Billie grimaced. “husbands, Phillip, loco”. Billie pointed to her head. She would do anything, say anything to get the housekeeper moving.

  “You smart wahine. Smart haole wahine.” Rosa smiled as she struggled from the bed.

  “Now this is my problem. I need a muumuu,” Billie said, enunciating each word carefully. “I thought maybe we could make one, or at least try to put together something. Is there a sewing machine here?” At Rosa’s perplexed look, Billie made motions with her fingers as though she were threading a needle and then weaving it in and out of the hem of her shorts. Rosa smiled and said, “No. No sew. No ricky-ticky sew.”

  Tears of frustration gathered in Billie’s eyes. “I need a muumuu, Rosa. My kane, my ipo won’t like me.” She felt stupid when she made kissing motions with her lips to show Rosa how serious the situation was. Billie never knew if it was the words that meant man and sweetheart or her tears that finally moved the housekeeper from her bed.

  “Come duh udder room.” Billie followed Rosa down the hall to what must have been Ester Kamali’s bedroom. Rosa stood at moment as though undecided. A second glance at Billie’s tear-filled eyes seemed to convince her to open the door. Billie advanced and then backed up a step. She knew this had to be the most beautiful room she had ever seen. Everything was pearl white or a light moss green, even the wicker. Splashes of yellow as golden as sunshine added just the right touch. Billie drew in her breath. It was a woman’s room. She didn’t know why, but she had the feeling no man had ever set foot across the threshold. It was too perfect. It smelled new, never used. Billie raised her hands palms up to show she didn’t understand.

  “Missy Ester’s ipo died. No marry udder man, ever.”

  Ester Kamali’s sweetheart died. How sad. Billie felt as if she were trespassing. The feeling was so strong she turned to leave, the tears running down her cheeks. Here she was worried about a simple thing like a muumuu and her kind, unseen hostess had lost her sweetheart. Rosa moved quickly and drew Billie back into the room. “Missy Ester go way. Not come back many, many years. No udder man for missy. You come.”

  Dabbing at her tear-streaked face, Billie followed Rosa into a small dressing room off the bedroom, watching as she reached up to one of the shelves for a porcelain jar and withdrew a small brass key. “You see, wikiwiki.” Rosa blessed herself and dropped to her knees before a large wicker chest beneath the last shelf. Honey-colored hands were gentle with the mounds of tissue paper that lay inside, then they probed the depths of the chest. Rosa seemed to know what she was searching for by touch rather than sight. When her plump hands found it, she withdrew and held up a rainbow of multicolored silk. “For you, Missy Billie. No udder wahine wear. Missy Ester say hokay.”

  Billie was speechless. She was selfish enough to want to reach out for the dress but woman enough to know what the beautiful silk had meant to Ester Kamali. Tears welled in her eyes again. She shook her head at Rosa and backed off a step.

  “You take. You wear. Missy Ester want you kane see you in her dress. You take. Is hokay. Is much hokay. Take.”

  Almost without intending to, Billie reached out for the vibrant silk. It was just what Moss would have expected her to buy for herself. She held the flowing gown to her shoulders. Rosa’s jet-black eyes glowed with pleasure. “Rosa, are you sure?” Billie wanted the dress more than anything in the world. She’d do anything to be able to wear it. Anything to erase Moss’s displeasure. “I’ll take care of it. I promise. I won’t go near food. I won’t even take a drink while I’m wearing it.”

  Rosa frowned. What was the wahine talking about? When Billie smiled, Rosa relaxed. “Missy Ester much happy that the dress make wahine happy.”

  Billie carried the silk gown back to her room and laid it on the bed. Moss was going to be pleased. She knew he wouldn’t ask questions. He would simply accept the fact that she had somehow found a way to do as he wished.

  Billie showered and washed and set her hair. She let the warm shower run, creating steam in the bathroom so that the silk, hung from a scented, padded hanger, would be free of wrinkles. There was no way she was going to lay an iron to this gorgeous creation.

  When she made her way to the kitchen, Rosa and Phillip, along with assorted cousins, nephews, and nieces, were busily preparing food for the barbecue. The food that had arrived on the medical transport was off to one side. Rosa and a bubbly niece were making Hawaiian dishes that would be served separately. Already there were huge platters of lau lau, a mixture of fish, pork, and taro leaves wrapped and steamed in a Ti leaf. Billie selected one and popped it in her mouth. “Delicious.” She laughed and took a second. Baking ulu and opihi were sending off delicious aromas. This would be the first time Billie would taste breadfruit and limpets. There were small pots of purple poi, made from crushed taro root. Billie wrinkled her nose. The young girls laughed as they dipped their fingers in the poi and licked them. Even if it was the traditional Hawaiian dish, Billie decided to pass on it. Instead her eyes were drawn to the cont
ainers of barbecue sauce and huge sacks of corn. She had a feeling she was going to be the one to shuck the yellow ears. Phillip made motions to her to indicate the beer kegs were on ice. That was good. The two cases of bourbon would go out on the terrace, where Moss was going to set up a bar. Two gunnysacks full of Idaho baking potatoes were being inspected by Phillip. He had his instructions as to baking them on the beach, next to the steers. “Much time left for totes.”

  “Potatoes,” Billie corrected him.

  “What I said, totes.”

  Butter was being iced and salt by the pound was being poured into heavy ceramic shakers. Cartons of heavy paper napkins were opened and a child of ten or so was busily folding them into intricate squares. From what she could see there were at least six red-and-white-checkered tablecloths. Seth did all this! she thought in amazement. Surely he’d forgotten something. Billie poked and pried into the cartons and sacks. Her eyes were wide when she extracted two full boxes of toothpicks and three one-pound cans of peppermint candies. For indigestion, she supposed. She rummaged more and found cabbage for coleslaw and six graters. God! Dressing was in the icebox in gallon jars. All this food, all the way from Texas. It was unbelievable. When her search was finished she had to admit that there was no fault to be found. Seth had thought of everything, right down to the huge cans of baked beans.

  “Phillip, if you or one of the boys will carry the corn out to the monkeypod tree, I’ll clean it. I’ll need a basket or something to put it in.” She had barely finished speaking when a tall youth hefted one of the sacks and slung a wicker basket over his shoulder. He favored her with a dazzling smile as he motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  Billie crossed the terrace and smiled at a cherub brigade as they deftly ran thread through plumeria blossoms for welcome leis. Moss had thought of everything, too. It might be a Texas barbecue, but he was deferring in small ways to the beautiful Hawaiian customs.

  As Billie sat under the tree shucking the corn she realized how far away from home she really was. The ripe yellow silk lay like a carpet at her feet and the lime-green leaves piled up. The lemony-colored corn was beautiful, the kernels in perfect rows. It was a pity she wouldn’t be able to taste it. She was already regretting the promise she’d made not to eat while wearing Ester Kamali’s dress. After the guests had gone she would take the dress off and eat some of the leftovers.

  Two hours later, Billie massaged her neck and turned the balance of the shucking over to one of the boys. He wrinkled his nose at the pile of corn but fell to his task at a sharp command from his Uncle Phillip. Time to see how the sourdough bread was coming along.

  Satisfied with the flour-strewn kitchen and dark mutterings from Rosa, Billie made a hasty retreat to the beach, where she went for a long solitary walk. At first her thoughts were lazy and dream-filled, but they intensified as the swells from the ocean whipped onto the sandy shore. All this commotion, all this fuss, all this trouble for a barbecue: what was Moss thinking of? And Seth, sending all the food from half a world away? She didn’t think she would ever understand the Colemans. Moss’s attitude and his sharp words to her this morning had hurt. Deeply. Secretly, Billie admitted to herself that she was jealous of the evening’s plans. Why wasn’t Moss satisfied just being with her? The two of them. The days were to be treasured now. She guessed the Enterprise was about ready to leave. Repairs were ahead of schedule. Who knew when they would see each other again? Learn to enjoy what you have, Thad had said. She must keep that in mind at all times.

  This party was going to go into the early hours of the morning. Moss had to be back on base for his weekend restriction. That meant the cleaning-up chores after the party would fall to her and Rosa.

  Billie sighed as she looked out across the waves. She should be delirious with happiness. Here she was in an island paradise with the man she loved with all her heart, a beautiful gown to wear for the evening, and she was feeling sorry for herself. Top brass, beautiful women . . . the party atmosphere should be intoxicating. Why did she feel so miserable, so let down? Was it fatigue from having worked through the night at Moss’s side? No, she’d been up all night on many occasions and hadn’t felt like this. Soul weary? Perhaps. Disappointed? More true than not. Was it too much to expect to spend every moment possible with her husband?

  In just a few hours Moss would be home. At least they would have some time alone before their guests arrived. Unless of course Moss took it into his head to supervise every little detail. She would go to her room and take the bobby pins out of her hair. Maybe she could fix herself a glass of lemonade and sit in the sun on the balcony. A good book or magazine would help her wile away the time. But before she did anything she had to check both barbecue pits and make a second inspection of conditions in the kitchen. It was almost laughable. What did she know about roasting steers?

  Phillip clucked his tongue and made clapping sounds with his hands to show his disapproval as Billie picked up the smoking banyan leaves. She fared no better when she peeked into the kitchen. It looked like utter chaos to her. There were pans and platters of food everywhere. Flour and something that looked like a pot of melting glue stood on the chrome kitchen table. Later, she must ask what it was.

  The ornamental clock on the desk in the living room chimed six o’clock. Billie checked the gold circle on her wrist. Five minutes past. She was resetting her watch when she heard the Jeep coming up the road. She ran to the wide double doors and flung them open. Her excited welcome died in her throat. In the Jeep with Moss sat Thad Kingsley and three other friends. She forced a smile to her lips and walked out to the driveway. “Look, honey,” said Moss. “I brought help. Come on in, guys, and Billie will fix you a drink. I want to check out the pits. Phillip is a grand old guy, but he isn’t up on longhorn beef. Did you check on things during the day, Billie?”

  How excited he was. How happy he looked. This was all so important to him. How could she even think of spoiling things? She was so glad now that she had accepted Miss Kamali’s dress. “Yes, Moss, I did. Everything looked fine to me. Don’t even consider going into the kitchen. Rosa will box your ears.”

  Thad and the others laughed. Moss loped toward the beach and Billie led the way to the outside terrace. She offered drinks and made small talk.

  Twenty minutes later Moss was back and mixing his own drink. He settled down near his friends and conversation ran to the events of the day. Billie looked from one man to the other. Only Thad’s eyes met hers in silent apology. She excused herself and knew no one was aware that she was leaving, except possibly Thad.

  Billie filled the tub for a long, leisurely soak. She added a liberal dose of bath salts and watched the water foam. It was almost as frothy as the Pacific. She wouldn’t cry, she just wouldn’t. Sometimes this new married life stunned her. Moss probably didn’t even remember that he had been sharp with her this morning. He was probably unaware how hurt she had been. It was time to shake this depression, time to get dressed and join Moss and his friends. Their guests would be arriving shortly.

  When Billie made her entrance an hour later on the lanai all five officers jumped to their feet, but it was to Moss that Billie’s eyes went. There was approval and pride in his glance and smile. The long sarong-like gown displayed her smooth tan shoulders and high rounded breasts, the side slit skirt allowing peek-a-boo glimpses of an elegant length of leg.

  “You look lovely, Billie,” Thad said sincerely. The other three pilots echoed Thad’s approval. Moss kissed her lightly on the cheek and put his arm around her shoulder. Billie wanted to lean into him, to snuggle against him, but she held her emotions in check. She smiled warmly and settled herself on one of the wicker chairs. The silk crept up around her ankles, exposing a scandalously sexy high-heeled shoe that was nothing more than straps. Thad Kingsley swallowed hard. He had never seen anything so provocative as that gently swinging foot.

  “I think I’ll take a walk to the beach and check out your longhorns,” he said. “If I were you, Coleman, I’d get the
lead out and get dressed. You are the host and the brass should be arriving any minute now.”

  “Good thinking. I won’t be long. Billie, refill the guys’ drinks.”

  “We can do it, Moss. Let your wife rest. We enjoy sitting here looking at her.”

  “Suit yourself. I told you guys to bring dates.”

  “Surely you jest. When I party I party. All the way. You can’t let go with the top brass milling about. Don’t worry about us. We’re here to eat all that beef you’ve been jawing about.”

  Moss shrugged. The guys were right. Jesus, Billie was going to knock the socks right off the brass. And their wives were going to do some double takes. He’d never seen her look so beautiful. The guys were impressed. Thad had looked like a fish out of water for a minute. The party was going to be a success. He could feel it.

  By nine-thirty the last guest had arrived. Moss drew Billie aside as they surveyed the scene on the terraces and lanai. “Did you ever notice that all generals’ and admirals’ wives are old and wrinkled? Look at that one over there.” Billie looked in the direction Moss was discreetly pointing. The woman’s face was leathery and wrinkled, and the skin on her neck hung in unattractive folds. “So help me, if you ever get to looking like that, I’ll divorce you.”