Texas fury

by Michaels, Fern

  {16}

  The children had come along—first Lacey and then Ivy. That's probably where the marriage started to sour. Coots hated squalling kids and a messy kitchen and a tired wife. Tess had come to hate his dirty body and his dirtier clothes and the fact that his promise looked like it would never be fulfilled.

  Coots started seeing other women; Tess took to reading pulp magazines by the pound and planning her dream house.

  Now, when everything was almost within her grasp, the cussed oil business looked like it was going to go belly-up. She wished she'd paid more attention to what was going on. Knowing only little bits and pieces about things was dangerous. She knew Coots had been planning to buy the Jarvis ranch, but then Adam Jarvis moved back to Texas with his stepson and decided not to sell. Or said he'd sell but not give up the oil leases. Whatever it was, Coots had lost out. He'd closed off his strippers against Riley Coleman's advice, saying just because Riley went to college didn't mean he knew everything. He'd wanted Riley to pick up some of his oil leases. At first Riley had refused, explaining that the Coleman coffers were empty and he couldn't justify the buy to the family. Tess wasn't certain, but she thought he'd changed his mind. Maybe because of Lacey, Tess thought.

  Tess's mail-order course in astrology indicated that Lacey's marriage to Riley was almost a certainty. At first it bothered her that she would have a son-in-law who was half Japanese, but when she weighed the positives against the negatives, she knew she could come to love Riley. Riley could be her ticket into Austin society.

  Tess checked her watch again. It was too quiet. Where was everybody?

  "We're ready, Mama," Lacey said at the bedroom door.

  "Now, don't you look pretty. Twirl around and let me see. Just as pretty as a summer flower."

  "In the dead of winter," Ivy growled behind her.

  Tess's voice dropped an octave. "Let me see what you're wearing, Ivy. Lord, child, where did you get that outfit?" Tess's face was full of horror. "You march back into your room and change your clothes. That might be all right for Lacey to wear, but not you. Where did you get it?"

  "Lacey lent it to me. What would you have me change into, Mother?" Ivy asked coolly.

  "Something. Anything. Bare backs and low necklines are

  {17}

  not for you. You're too big to wear such things. Lacey, help your sister or we're going to be late."

  Lacey grimaced. "Mother, haven't you heard? It's fashionable to be late."

  "Not for something this important. Fix her up and do it now!" There was a ring of steel in Tess's voice that made both girls scurry off to do her bidding.

  Lacey didn't bother to hide her anger as she stomped her way to Ivy's Spartan bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ivy stripping down to her underwear. The scowl on Ivy's face mirrored her own.

  Someday, when Ivy got her act together, she would be a knockout. Right now, though, she had the face of a cherub and bulged in all the wrong places. The loss of fifteen pounds would do it. Lacey felt a momentary pang of jealousy when she visualized what Ivy would look like when she pulled herself together. She had a winning smile, with teeth so perfect she could pose for toothpaste ads, the kind of smile that made you forget the pudginess and bulges; the kind of smile that said Ivy would be your friend. She had mysterious eyes with a slight cast to them, and when the chubbiness left her cheeks, her whole face would be in perspective. She wasn't a knockout ... yet. Until she was, her sense of humor and her views on life would have to carry her along.

  "Why don't I just stay home and Mama will feel better? I don't have anything glitzy to wear, and if I did, I'd look like a clown. I'm sorry, Lacey," she mumbled.

  Lacey's freshly manicured nails picked at the clothing in Ivy's closet. "It's my fault. I knew better. It's. . . Mama wants both of us. . . Where are your clothes?" How was it possible that Ivy had sc few things while her own closet bulged to overflowing, necessitating the use of two hall closets for her more costly garments?

  Ivy rose to the challenge in Lacey's voice. "When was the last time you heard Mama ask me if I needed anything? When was the last time you heard her offer to buy me something? Whatever you see in there is what I bought myself. I never asked for anything and I'm not going to start now. I'm not you, Lacey," she said tightly.

  "What's that supposed to mean? That I'm a grabber, that I take all I can get? Maybe you should try it. Everyone knows you get more flies with sugar than vinegar."

  {18}

  "You said it, I didn't. Well, what have you decided on?" Ivy snapped.

  "I guess it's this brown dress. God, where in the hell did you get this? I know your taste runs to casual comfort, but this ... is ... Maybe we can dress it up or something."

  "Or something," Ivy muttered as she pulled the dress over her head.

  "Pearls, a scarf, a different belt," Lacey said desperately.

  "Do you really think they'll help? Look, if you're embarrassed to be seen with me, get out of here. I'll wear Grandma's pearls if it will make you feel better," Ivy capitulated.

  Lacey stared at Ivy. She wouldn't be caught dead in the mustard-brown dress, not even to take out the trash. She nodded to show she was in agreement about the pearls. Her eyes filled with envy at the lustrous strand. She'd wanted them, even tried to snitch them after her grandmother's will had been settled. Her own bequest had been a cameo broach that she'd tossed in a drawer and forgotten. It galled her that Ivy kept the pearls hidden and refused to lend them to her for special occasions. This was the first time she'd seen her sister wear them.

  "Look in the mirror, Ivy. They make your complexion positively glow," Lacey said.

  "Then eat your heart out, because they'll never find their way around your neck," Ivy said irritably. The sincerity in Lacey's voice had to be some kind of trick. Lacey never said nice things to her. She still wanted the pearls; it was that simple.

  Ivy stared at her sister with a mixture of disgust and jealousy. She always thought of Lacey as having been created and then shellacked, all five feet ten inches of her. There was never a hair out of place, never a nail broken or a chip in her nail polish. She applied her makeup as if she were following a road map—a dab here, a dash there, blended, blended, blended. She was a farther uptown version of Christie Brink-ley with none of the model's winsomeness. Everything about Lacey was perfect, from the top of her fashionable hairstyle to the tip of her manicured toes. Hard, glittering eyes, high, sharp cheekbones, small, elegant nose that was usually in the air, and a thin mouth that rarely, if ever, smiled. There was nothing real about Lacey. The feathery eyelashes, the porcelain caps on her teeth, the artificial nail tips and silicone breast

  {19}

  implants. Where, she wondered, was the real Lacey Bucka-lew?

  Lacey's hackles rose. Why couldn't she and Ivy be nice to each other? Why did they have to end each meeting, each conversation, on an angry note? Or was it a jealous note? As they made their way back to Tess's bedroom, Lacey decided it was all her mother's fault.

  Tess's narrowed eyes took in the dull brown dress and the string of pearls. The dress did nothing for Ivy's figure. She blinked, her eyebrows arching at the clear, rosy, almost ethereal complexion of her younger daughter. Even so, she looked dowdy next to her glamorous sister, who had poured herself into a black sheath skirt with a sparkling sequined top. So very fashionable; a mannequin, hard and glittering.

  Tess sighed. She just knew that the way Ivy was dressed was some kind of omen. Things were not going to work out. She didn't like the calculating look in Lacey's eyes, either. She'd seen that look before. It meant Lacey was determined to do something, something her mother wouldn't approve of. It had to be Cole Tanner. Lacey hadn't been the same since they'd broken up. Thrown into the same company with Cole, she might do something tonight that she'd regret later. She'd talk to her in the car, Tess decided. Better yet; she'd warn her. Cole would have to be history.

  How many times she'd dreamed about this place called Sunbridge, Julie Ki
ngsley thought, and now she was finally here. She'd soon be seeing it, for the first time, in all its splendor.

  They were passing under the high wooden arch proclaiming that this was Sunbridge. Miles of white rail fencing stretched into the distance. Tall, leafless oaks lined the drive, and on either side were wide expanses of lawn, dull brown now, with the tiny heads of the sprinkler system showing. Julie let her breath explode in a long sigh. She'd known it would look like this from Billie and Thad's description. Thad said when the oaks were in leaf it was like driving through a dappled tunnel of green with golden shards of sun shooting through the leaves.

  Far up the drive, daylight shone, and when the car rounded the final turn, the house came into view.

  Sitting on a gently sloping rise, the great house basked beneath the overcast Texas sky. Julie thought, as they came

  {20}

  out from the tunnel of trees, that here, in this place called Sunbridge, the sun would be its warmest and most golden.

  The house was a three-story brick of the palest pink, flanked by two wings, which were also three-storied but set back from the main structure. The expanse of prairie rose was accented by white columns that supported the roof of the veranda that swept the entire frontage. As the driver pulled the limousine up to the portico, Julie noticed the multipaned fanlight that crested the huge double front door. The design was repeated again over each window on the top floor. Ornamental topiary trees and crape myrtle hugged the foundation, and surrounding the house was the magnificent rose garden Billie had spoken of, dry and brown now, but complete with trellises and statuary. Julie drew in her breath again. Fairy-tale land. "Is this what you call a spread?" Julie asked in awe.

  The driver smiled. "Here in Texas people do call it a spread. Sunbridge does spread over two hundred and fifty thousand acres. It's needed to raise the cattle and thoroughbreds. Mostly they're kept in the back acreage. You're not seeing Sunbridge at its best, though, miss. When the sun is shining, it's one of the most beautiful spots on this earth. I've been here a long time and I've never seen its equal anywhere."

  "I can see why they call it Sunbridge. With the sun shining down on it, it must be breathtaking," Julie said in awe.

  "They say when the first Mr. Coleman saw this land, that would be Seth Coleman now, he felt as though he could almost reach up to the sun. They say he came from very dark beginnings, and building this place was like making his dream come true. They say he wanted the great house to bridge his past with what he wanted for the future. The whole thing, all of this, the house, the landscaping, everything, was what he wanted. No one knows for sure if the first Mrs. Coleman had a say in the way things were done."

  "I'm sure she did," Julie said generously.

  "We're here, miss. You go along inside now. I'll carry your bags into the front hall."

  At the front portico Julie looked around. She took a moment to imagine the ethereal beauty of the rose garden and the feminine sweep of the clematis vine surrounding the heavy oak doors, knowing for certain that they were the first Mrs. Coleman's contribution to Sunbridge. The outside did nothing to prepare her for the inside of the house. v Shining oaken

  {21}

  floors, massive beams studding the ceiling, thick, dark Oriental carpets, and man-size leather furniture, shabby and worn. Standing there, alone for a moment, Julie imagined masculine voices and thudding high-heeled cowboy boots. Panoramic paintings filled the walls, all of them depicting burly, tanned men at some manly endeavor—branding steers, breaking horses, riding the range. The driver had been right: Sunbridge was a man's house. It was Seth Coleman's domain, and every detail of the worn shabbiness attested to that fact. Then she heard, not cowboy boots, but the light tapping of her Aunt Billie's high heels.

  "I'm so glad you're here," Billie Kingsley said warmly as she embraced her husband's niece. "It affects everyone this way the first time they see it," she said softly. "I'll never forget how petrified I was when I arrived here as a new bride. I was so high on being married to Moss Coleman, I didn't come down to earth till I walked into this.. . mausoleum. Don't look for feminine touches, because there are none. This house looks the same as it did when I first arrived, and that was forty-five years ago. I hope you aren't too disappointed."

  "I don't know if I am or not," Julie said honestly. "I'm not quite sure what I expected. Hearing about a place for so many years makes it easy for a person to add his or her own little touches. I'm guilty of imagining a Bavarian crystal chandelier in the central hallway, and I added a marble floor, too."

  "Someday," Billie said, "I'll tell you what I imagined this place would look like, but not today. Everyone is anxious to meet you, so let's get the introductions under way. The whole clan is in the library, gathered for this momentous occasion— and your arrival just adds to the excitement."

  Billie led Julie down a long corridor lined with framed photographs and into a cozy room where a fire was burning in a huge fieldstone fireplace. Her heart pounding with excitement, Julie squared her shoulders and followed Billie into the room.

  It was Amelia who put her arms around Julie in welcome when Billie introduced her. When she blushed with pleasure, Amelia winked at Billie. It seemed nobody blushed these days, and when a prospective thirty-niner did it, it was refreshing. She would do.

  Amelia looked hard at Julie and saw an attractive, buxom woman with laughing eyes and a crinkly smile. Light-colored freckles, the same shade as her hair, marched across the

  {22}

  bridge of her nose, giving her a winsome look. She wasn't young, nor was she old. Amelia knew that Julie's thirty-ninth birthday was only months away and that she'd never married.

  Amelia took Julie's elbow, and began to introduce her around. "This is Maggie and Rand. They live in perpetual Hawaiian sunshine all year long, while we shiver and shake. Rand is my son, but then, I'm sure you already know that. I just love to say it," Amelia gurgled.

  "Welcome to Sunbridge, Julie," Maggie said, a smile in her voice. "Any time you're in Hawaii, feel free to spend time with us. Amelia's right, this is too cold for us. That's one of the reasons we moved."

  "And in this comer," Amelia went on, "we have my niece, Sawyer, and my two nephews, Cole and Riley. They officially run Coleman enterprises. Sawyer and Cole operate Coleman Aviation, Sawyer from Japan and Cole here in Texas. Riley's in charge of the cattle and oil end of things."

  "I've heard a lot about you," Sawyer said warmly, "and now that I'm meeting you, I see everything Thad and Grand said about you is true. Welcome to Sunbridge, Julie." Her handshake was every bit as bone-crushing as Cole's and Riley's. They nodded their approval.

  "Don't let Cole talk you into going for a plane ride with him," said Sawyer. "And Riley is equally as dangerous on a horse, so watch it."

  Julie grinned across at Cole. "I always wanted to wear one of those flight suits and a billed cap. Any time you're looking for a passenger, I'd be glad to go for a ride."

  "It would be a lot simpler if you'd buy a flight suit from Banana Republic. Trust me, this guy is a devil in the air." Sawyer grinned.

  "I really should do something before I turn forty." Julie looked at Riley. "How fast do horses go?"

  "We have a mare named Doolie that goes about a mile every three hours." Riley laughed.

  "Don't trust these guys, Julie," Sawyer warned again good-naturedly.

  "Don't look at me, young woman," Amelia said as she led Julie in the direction of the bar. "They all talk a different language than I do. Sawyer is probably right, though."

  "My niece Susan and her husband, Ferris. They live in Minnesota and head up the Spina Bifida Foundation. The whole family is very proud of them."

  {23}

  "I would think so," Julie said warmly. "Billie and Thad talk about the marvelous work you both do. Someday, Susan, I hope I get a chance to hear you play the piano. Your mother told me she could listen to you play all day long."

  "Was that with or without earplugs?"

  "Moving right
along here," Amelia said with a laugh as she guided Julie to a man seated in a chair by the fire. "This is the second most wonderful man on earth. Mr. Hasegawa. We call him the Coleman savior."

  "Please, don't get up." Julie dropped to the hearth. How ill he looked. She extended her hand and was surprised at the firm handshake. "Someday I hope to visit your country."

  "It is my pleasure to meet Thaddeus's niece. He has spoken of you often. I wish I could say I have a desire to visit Vermont, but I don't. Thaddeus has schooled me on your small state. I will, how do you say, pass on it." His voice was gentle and cultured. "I think you would like my country. Whenever you would like a job on one of my magazines, you have only to ask."

  "That's very kind of you, Mr. Hasegawa. I'll remember your kind offer. Tell me, what did you think of Miranda?"

  "I subscribe to the theory that every man should have a dream. I am very happy to be a part of Mr. Assante's dream. Do you have a dream, Julie Kingsley?" the old Japanese asked gently.

  Taken off guard, Julie hesitated, but only for a second. "Yes, I suppose I do. Nothing grand. Rather simple, really. I want to get married someday. I want to know what it's like to love and be loved. I want to be as happy as my Uncle Thad and Billie are." Julie flushed a bright pink when the old man stared deeply into her eyes.

  "Ah, but your dream is important. It is what we all wish and dream of. No one should be alone. We all need someone. You Americans say something about a knight on a horse, do you not?"

  "A white knight, and he doesn't have to be on a horse. If he knocked on my door, I'd be just as happy if he had on running shoes."

  "This is a joke?"

  "No. What that means is, I'll take him any which way I can as long as I love him and he loves me."

  "Ah, so, I understand."

  {24}