Vegas heat

by Michaels, Fern

  "I agree. That won't stop Simon, though. You realize we're just going through motions to make ourselves feel better."

  "I don't care. I want a restraining order on the record."

  "Then that's what we'll do. More coffee?"

  "Sure. Bring some ice cream."

  "What are we going to do tonight, Fanny?"

  "I don't know about you, but I'm going to soak in a hot tub and then I'm going back to bed. You can make breakfast. Don't worry about Daisy. She has a pad by the front door for emergencies."

  "Alone again," Ash grumbled.

  "How does it feel, Ash?"

  "Pretty damn shitty. Fanny, thanks for today."

  Fanny nodded. "You would have done the same for me, wouldn't you?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, Fanny, I would have."

  "See you in the morning."

  "Okay."

  Simon Thornton walked around the house, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The wind whistled and howled, sending chills up and down his spine. Ash probably had warm clothes and boots in the house. He knew he needed to change before his wet clothes froze to his back. He was covered with snow from head to toe, his wet hair plastered to his head in frozen layers. A hot shower would be good. He let himself into the house by the back door, turned on the kitchen light. Everything was neat and tidy, like Ash himself. He wandered around, looking at things, touching things, whistling to himself as he did so.

  He made his way up the steps to his old room—Jake's room now. Toys were scattered everywhere. He closed the door and entered Ash's room. It was still Ash's room. All his stuff was here. His commendations, his pictures hanging on the wall, Ash's past. A picture of Ash and Fanny sat on the dresser. He looked at it with clinical interest. A picture of Jake holding his fishing pole was on the night table. He studied it for a long time.

  Ash had five children and three grandchildren. He had none. Ash had a family. He didn't have one because he'd been sterile all his life. Ash had everything.

  394 Fern Michaels

  Simon opened the dresser drawers. Everything was neatly aligned. The best of everything. He rummaged through everything just the way he had when he was a boy. The closet beckoned. He did the same thing, jerking suits and jackets off the hangers and dropping them on the floor. He kicked at the line of shoes on the floor. He spent an hour going through Ash's personal things he kept on the top shelf. There wasn't one thing in the closet he wanted to take with him. He felt cheated, disappointed that Ash didn't have anything worth taking.

  He rummaged some more, found a heavy jacket, some corduroy pants and a sweater. Pushed far back in the closet was a pair of shearling-lined boots. He was in good shape for the walk down the mountain.

  He headed for Ash's bathroom where he showered, shaved, and dressed. He dropped his wet towel on the floor. Ash hated a mess.

  In the kitchen he made himself a ham sandwich. He peeled an orange and ate it. He left the peels and bread crumbs on the counter. He took one last look around the house before he returned to the living room where he zipped up his jacket. He reached for Ash's knit cap on the hat rack and pulled it down over his wet head.

  The last thing he did before leaving the house was to light a cigarette. Before he snapped the lighter shut, he held it to the hem of the lace curtains on the front window.

  From time to time on his walk down the mountain he turned to look back at Sunrise, watching the flames dancing high in the sky.

  He whistled all the way down the mountain, the wind carrying the sound high and wide.

  24

  Fanny woke, a feeling of panic squeezing her chest. She felt the puffiness in her face, the skin stretching beyond its boundaries near her right eye. She moved her bruised body to see the clock. Two o'clock. What was it that woke her? Not Daisy; she was sleeping peacefully at the bottom of the bed. Ash? Not Ash. Daisy would be prancing around if something was wrong where her ex-husband was concerned. Was the television on? Was Ash having a sleepless night? She listened. The apartment was tomb quiet.

  Maybe her body had all the sleep it could handle for one night. She struggled to get up, her muscles protesting each movement, no matter how slight. It was a monumental effort to fit her arms into her robe, but she did it. Her slippers were nowhere in sight. She padded barefoot into the kitchen, Daisy behind her. She was relieved to see the blank screen on the television. Ash must be sleeping.

  Fanny measured coffee into the wire basket, put the lid back on the coffeepot. She pressed the red button. She hated smoking before she brushed her teeth, but she fired up a cigarette anyway. Daisy circled her feet, panting and wagging her tail.

  "It's not morning. I'm off schedule." Fanny reached inside the refrigerator and unwrapped three slices of cheese. She broke it up into pieces and dropped them into the little dog's bowl. "Something's wrong, Daisy. I can feel it in my bones. Everything bad happens in the dark of night," she muttered.

  Fanny was on her second cup of coffee when she heard Ash's chair. She looked up. Daisy was sitting in his lap. "Is something wrong, Fanny?"

  Fanny poured him a cup of coffee. "I don't know. I feel like there is. I woke up and had this feeling of panic. I suppose

  396 Fern Michaels

  I could have been dreaming, but if I was, I don't remember what the dream was about. Maybe my body just had enough sleep. That happens sometimes. If it was the kids, someone would have called."

  1 'Jesus, Fanny, I took the receiver off the hook. I didn't want it ringing all night to wake you. I forgot to hang it back up." His chair backed up, circled and returned a moment later. "I'm sorry, Fanny."

  "I do that too, Ash. If something was really wrong, there would have been a knock on the door. Daisy would have alerted us." Both Ash and Fanny stared at the phone on the kitchen wall.

  "Fanny, call the switchboard. You have an unlisted phone number now."

  "I forgot about that." Fanny pressed the zero for operator. "Have there been any calls for Mr. Thornton or me this evening? Thank you." She shook her head. "I told you, Ash, it's just a feeling. After yesterday, I'm entitled to feel a little strange."

  "How about some breakfast?"

  ' 'Bacon and eggs?''

  "Sounds good."

  Fanny was placing the bacon strips in the fry pan when a loud knock could be heard. Daisy raced to the door, the hair on the back of her neck on end, her tail between her legs. Fanny turned off the stove, her eyes locked with Ash's. "It's someone strange, someone she doesn't know. Her tail isn't wagging."

  "Ask who it is before you open the door," Ash said.

  "I'm not an idiot. Who is it?" Fanny called.

  "Pete Wilson, Mrs. Thornton. Neal is with me."

  Fanny opened the door and stood aside. Ash backed up his chair. "What's wrong?"

  "There's a fire on your mountain. Is anyone up there?"

  "No, we all came down yesterday. The house is empty. Is it the house or the mountain?"

  "Our main concern was that people might be in the house. Three of my men are slogging through the snow as we speak.

  When the call came in, we sent out a truck, but the roads were too treacherous. They had to turn around and come back. What do you people do when the weather turns bad up there?"

  "Chue takes care of it. He's here in town with his family. He sands, salts, and uses the ashes from the fireplaces. Ash, what should we do? How can there be a fire if it's snowing?" Ash shot her a disgusted look.

  "Is Birch's Land Rover still in the garage?"

  "I think so."

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Thornton. We can attempt it again, but I don't hold out much hope. It's been burning for some time now. My guess is it's the house. The trees are wet and covered with snow. The wind is pretty fierce, and for the flames to be as high as they are whatever it is that's burning has a good start on us."

  "I'll get dressed," Fanny said, limping her way to her room.

  "Thanks, Pete. Do what you can." This last was said over his shoulder as Ash maneuvered his chair down the hallway. Daisy
barked until the door closed behind the two men.

  Twenty minutes later, Fanny was behind the wheel of the Land Rover, Ash in the passenger seat.

  "Don't worry about my chair. There's a spare in the garage. I alternate the chairs. Chue charges the one not in use. The chair isn't important, Fanny."

  "He wouldn't .. ."

  "Yeah he would. Now look, Fanny, take it easy. I know you know the mountain, but snow changes everything."

  "I know, Ash. Talk to me."

  "You look pretty ugly, Fanny. You're going to have a shiner for about ten days. I wouldn't let Marcus Reed see you right now."

  "That's just what I need to hear. If you can't say something nice, shut up."

  "I thought you wanted me to talk. It's probably arson. Houses don't just burn for no reason. Simon did this. How are we going to prove it? There was no one on the mountain. He could sue our asses off if we make our feelings known."

  398 Fern Michaels

  "He was there, Ash, we both saw him. All you have to do is look at me to know there was some kind of confrontation."

  "Big fucking deal. His car is at the bottom of the mountain. How do we explain that? The son of a bitch is liable to go after Chue. The word 'lie' isn't even in Chue's vocabulary. What you should have done was have Chue push his car to the side and take his keys."

  "I should have done a lot of things, Ash. What if he had a spare tucked in his wallet? I never said I was thinking clearly. All I knew was I had to get to you before he did. Should have, could have, would have. What the hell difference does it make now anyway?"

  "I'm trying to think ahead," Ash said defensively. "He'll lie low now for a little while. When we were kids and he'd pull one of his more outrageous stunts, he'd hide out in his room for days until everyone calmed down. My mother would coax him to come out on an hourly basis. She'd buy him junk, make sure we had his favorite foods, that kind of thing. She'd just be so damn relieved that he finally came out and smiled at her, she wouldn't do a damn thing except to swat me saying I instigated whatever it was he did."

  "Goddammit, Ash, he burned down my house."

  "That's not how he sees it, and we aren't sure it's the house. Simon thinks the house is mine now because I've been living there the past few years. Don't you get it, Fanny? He thinks it's mine. He's going by what he sees and hears. He's not going by instinct now. I think that's good where we're concerned. He's bound to make a mistake soon."

  "Soon?" Fanny screeched. "Soon can translate to a very long time. Soon could be tomorrow."

  She concentrated on her driving. It got more and more difficult.

  "Chue's house is safe," Ash said as they passed it. "We should be thankful for that."

  "Oh, Ash, look, it's gone," Fanny wailed as she brought the Land Rover to a stop at the end of the driveway.

  "I need my chair, Fanny."

  Fanny motioned to the three firemen. One of them trotted off to return with Ash's spare wheelchair.

  "It was too far gone when we got here, ma'am. We couldn't save it."

  Fanny nodded, tears trickling down her cheeks. "Take the Rover back to town. Mr. Thornton and I can stay in one of the cottages or the studio. It's the only way you'll get off the mountain."

  Fanny watched the Rover back up and start down the mountain.

  "It was just a house, Fanny. Pete's right, it can be rebuilt."

  "It was more than a house, Ash. It was your mother's home, your home, my home. I raised the kids here. They're going to be devastated. It's so senseless, so insane." Fanny's shoulders started to shake. She dropped to the ground in the snow, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  All Ash could do was stare at the ruins and at his wife.

  "Sallie liked to open the windows and watch the curtains billow. Birch used to hide from Sage in that little cubbyhole under the steps. Sage never caught on, so I guess it really was a secret place. Billie used to line up her paper dolls and that small sewing machine Sallie gave her on the dining-room table. She used to make a regular parade, and she'd talk to the dolls."

  "Fanny, don't do this to yourself."

  "Sunny would run up and down the steps a hundred times a day. Either she was chasing the twins, or they were chasing her. Now she can barely walk. I must have taken a thousand pictures of the kids on the steps. For some reason they always wanted to pose on the steps. The paint's still on the living-room carpet where Sage spilled it. I don't know why I never replaced it."

  "Fanny—"

  "The cradles Sallie gave us were in the attic. All the things I saved from our kids that I wanted to give to our grandchildren are gone now. I put everything in boxes and labeled them. Sallie's things were in the attic, too. Even stuff from your dad

  400 Fern Michaels

  that Sallie saved. All Jake and Polly's stuff is gone, Ash. We can't ever get it back. It's just a pile of dirty ashes.

  "Simon took away my past, Ash. He took away all my memories."

  Ash's hand reached out to Fanny. He slid from the chair to sit in the snow next to her. "You still have the memories, Fanny. He can never steal those from you." He put his arm around her shoulder. Fanny leaned her head against him, tears blinding her.

  ' 'I loved this place, Ash. Sunny did too. It was so right for her to live here with the kids. This mountain used to rock with sound when their friends came up from town. I can't believe it's gone."

  "We'll rebuild it, Fanny."

  "It won't be the same. It won't feel the same. It won't smell the same."

  "I used to love coming here on the weekends. The house always smelled like cinnamon and spice and celery. It never smelled like that when we were growing up. I think I hated it then. Maybe it was Simon I hated and not the house at all. That goddamn safe is still standing. Part of the second floor looks to be intact. Is there anything in the safe, Fanny?"

  "Yeah, all kinds of stuff."

  "You'll have to take it out."

  "I know. Oh, Ash, Polly and Lexie will never get to know this place.'' Fanny's shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. "How are we going to tell Jake the house is gone? Losing his mother for months at a time is bad enough. How, Ash?''

  "We'll handle it. We're the old guard, Fanny. You can rebuild this for the next generation. It's what you put into it, Fanny, that made Sunrise what it was. The good feelings I have in regard to Sunrise are because of you, not because of my mother and the time I spent here as a kid. Sunrise is you, Fanny. Mom knew that. That's why she left the mountain to you. She knew in her heart you'd make it into what she could never do. She was right to do what she did by leaving it to you. My ass is freezing, Fanny. Let's go down to the studio and get warm.

  We can come back later. It's going to smolder for days, so there's nothing we can do right now. It's going to be light soon."

  "All right, Ash," Fanny said struggling to her feet. She struggled again as she tugged and shoved Ash into his chair. "Do you think, Ash, if it hadn't snowed, the mountain would be gone?"

  "Yes. And that you could never rebuild. It would take a hundred years for new trees to grow to this splendor."

  "Then we need to be grateful for that."

  Three days later, when the steep mountain road was cleared, the fire marshal gave Fanny permission to walk through the rubble. She watched as the arson squad left in their specially equipped van with all their high-tech equipment. She wondered if they would ever be able to prove what had happened.

  "Fanny, why are you torturing yourself. We should leave and come back in the spring."

  "You're right, Ash. I just want to walk through to see if there's at least one thing that didn't bum. I have to clear out the safe, too. Chue is lending me his pickup truck. I'll need all the space in the back. I just hope it will hold everything."

  "Wait, just a minute. What the hell's in that safe that we need the back of the pickup to haul it?"

  "Cotton Easter's gold."

  "Cotton Easter's gold," Ash said, a stupid look on his face.

  "Yeah. He left it to
your mother. It scared her. She left it to me. It scared me, too."

  "How . . . how much is there?"

  "At least a ton. I don't know. The shelves are full of it."

  "The shelves are full of it. Fanny, what the hell does that mean?"

  "It means I have to move it. Unless you have a better idea."

  "Well ... are you sure you aren't exaggerating?"

  "Ash, come see for yourself. You can watch me move it.

  402 Fern Michaels

  I'll back up the truck and just throw it in the back. It's in sacks."

  "And you never told me?"

  "No, I never told anyone. I never considered it mine even though Sallie said it was. For some reason I thought your mother would have told Simon, but she didn't. I was the only one who knew. I think ... and this is just my opinion, Ash ... but I think she knew ... wanted me to use it for Babylon. It wasn't anything she said in words. It was a feeling she gave me. She told me I would know what to do with it. She was so wrong. We'll have to decide what to do."

  Fanny worked the combination. When she heard the desired click, she pulled, shoved and used her backside to move the massive door. Ash stared at the contents, speechless for the first time in his life. Fanny started to lug the sacks to the back of the truck.

  At the end of her seventeenth trip, Ash found his voice. "What's all that other stuff?"

  "Stocks, bonds, deeds. Sallie's stuff."

  "SaUie's stuff."

  "Ash, stop repeating everything I say."

  "What would you be saying if you were in my place?"

  Fanny leaned on the end of the pickup and lit a cigarette. "Ash, I never wanted the responsibility of all this. I told you. I never thought of it as mine. It belongs to you and Simon." She told him about Jake then.' 'That money wasn't mine either. I borrowed on it a dozen times. Once I outright used it. I always paid it back. It's in a mutual fund collecting something like a 15 percent return per year."