Amelia bristled. “Perhaps you approve, but I don’t. Something like this could tear the family apart, and we’ve had enough of that already. I more or less let Rand know how I feel. If he wants to end his relationship with Sawyer, that’s certainly his prerogative. But he doesn’t have to throw Maggie in her face.” She sighed. “Oh, I don’t know what to think, Billie. I don’t know how far it’s gone or if it’s just getting off the ground. I am staying here in Maggie’s house, so unless I’m prepared to leave, I have to be careful what I say.”
“Good thinking, Amelia.”
Amelia gasped. “You seem quite approving.”
“I really don’t know what to think. I’m terribly confused, and my better sense tells me to keep out of it. I don’t know the reasons Rand and Sawyer ended their relationship. I thought they would marry. It must have been more one-sided than we thought. But I do know Maggie well enough to say she wouldn’t deliberately set out to hurt Sawyer. I can’t believe that.”
“Rand is my son, but he’s a man and he goes after what he wants. And I can’t hold my feelings in; I’d hate it if it was done to me. I can feel Sawyer’s pain. I can feel it!”
“I know,” Billie whispered. “I was in that same place once myself.”
“What should we do?”
“Nothing. They have to work it out for themselves. I’ve had a few letters from Sawyer since July. None of them really said anything, but I can read between the lines. I’m worried sick. She’s such a child, really. Her life has been . . . well, charmed, one might say.”
“Charmed? How could you say that?” Amelia asked hotly. “She was a child born of a child and rejected by her child-mother. It would have been better if she’d never been born. You never should have insisted Maggie go through with that pregnancy. Why did you?”
“Why? Because of you, Amelia. Because of that terrible botched-up abortion that left you unable to have another child. I believed abortion was wrong then and I still do. And if Maggie had had an abortion, we wouldn’t have Sawyer today, would we? And perhaps we wouldn’t have Cole, either.” Silence on the other end of the line. Suddenly Billie was ashamed of herself. “Amelia, forgive me. I had no right. What’s wrong? It isn’t just Sawyer and Rand. I don’t believe I’ve ever known you to be bitter, and yet that’s what I’m hearing in your voice. What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m just edgy these days. And there’s nothing to forgive, really. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Amelia swallowed against the tears that always seemed so close to the surface these days. “Isn’t there something we can do for Sawyer?”
“Thad suggested I go to New York on one pretense or another. But Sawyer would see right through my motives. She knows I’m here for her if she needs me. I have to think of Maggie, too. What do you suppose she’s feeling?”
“Maggie’s fighting it. I know she is,” Amelia said. “But she isn’t strong, Billie. She’s looking for something in her life. For a while there, I thought she and Cranston were going to patch things up, but I guess it didn’t work out. . . .” She sighed. “You’re right, Billie. Let’s leave it alone for now. Besides, Rand will be gone in a few days. I know he has to get back to England. He’s selling out the estate, or most of it. Did you know that? He leaves day after tomorrow.”
Days, Billie was thinking. So much could happen in three days. She reflected on her time in Hong Kong with Thad years ago. You could fall in love in minutes; you could commit your entire life to that love in days. Other people could be destroyed by that love and commitment in an instant. Where had she and Thad found the strength to deny themselves? Tears glistened in Billie’s eyes at the knowledge of all the time wasted, time they could have had loving each other, being there for each other. Was that really what she wanted for Maggie? And in the end, would it really make any difference to Sawyer? It wouldn’t make Rand love her again.
“Billie? . . . Billie, are you there? Can you hear me?”
“I hear you, dear. Keep an eye on Susan for me. You’re so good at that. I’ll never forget the way you took care of me when I was pregnant with Suse. If it weren’t for you, Susan might never have been born. Thad and I want to know when you and Cary are going to come visit us here in Vermont.”
“One of these days. Probably when I’m old and gray. It’s so cold in Vermont, and it’s all I can do to anticipate a Texas winter. I’m not looking forward to it.”
Billie laughed. “Our winters are bitter, but then it’s a matter of who you spend them with. Thad’s back is a wonderful place to warm cold feet.”
“Bless you, Billie, for even admitting your feet get cold. I thought I was the only one.”
It was eleven-ten when Cary walked into the bedroom. He grinned at Amelia and then groaned. “You’re the best thing I’ve seen all day. And you smell good, too.”
Amelia’s heart soared. “Are you hungry? Can I get you a drink?”
Cary leered at her, his dark, expressive brows lowering over that hawklike gaze. “What I want from you doesn’t come from the kitchen or the bar. This is going to be the shortest shower on record. Strip down, baby. I’ll be right back.”
Amelia found herself laughing happily. “That’s the best offer you’ve made since yesterday.” She did as he’d told her. The silky sheets felt cool against her naked skin. But that was only temporary.
Amelia rolled over onto her side, her face buried in her pillow, Cary sleeping soundly beside her. She didn’t care that the pillowcase was making creases in her face or that if she didn’t make herself sleep she’d be a wreck in the morning. All she cared about at the moment was that Cary had fallen asleep almost in the middle of their lovemaking. Her brain told her how exhausted he was; demon Vanity was telling her that she wasn’t exciting enough to keep him awake.
Before anyone had come down to the breakfast table, Maggie sat there in her usual place addressing an envelope. She hummed as she picked up her engagement book and leafed through it. Lord, she was spreading herself thin. An accident about to happen, Riley liked to tease. She was keeping the three weekdays before Thanksgiving free in order to oversee preparations for the big day. The football game, the family dinner, the homecoming dance for the boys the following night. The expected letdown when it was all over. Then the official beginning of the Christmas shopping season.
A thrill ran through her at just the thought of Christmas. Presents, family, belonging. She wanted this year to be the most festive ever, even outdoing Billie’s efforts when she’d lived here.
Her eyes dropped to the envelope she was addressing to Sawyer. She’d tried several times to call Sawyer at her office. Each time she’d been put on hold, then was told Sawyer was out of the office and wouldn’t return until late: was there a message? Well, Sawyer couldn’t ignore a letter.
Dear Sawyer,
I tried calling your office today, but your secretary said you wouldn’t be back till quite late. As you know, I’m not much of a letter writer, but I thought I’d take a crack at it since you didn’t return any of my other phone calls.
Obviously, you’re upset with me—more so than any time in the past. I think we should have talked this out months ago. I’m sorry now we didn’t.
The boys tell me you’re staying with Adam Jarvis. I’m glad. I know what a good friend he’s always been. Why don’t you bring him home with you for Thanksgiving? (I don’t want to make this an official invitation because this is your home and I want you to come anytime you feel like it. The door is always open to you.)
Christmas this year promises to be a huge success. Everyone will be here. I’m sure the boys have told you Susan is already here. She’s looking much better these days. We’re all sort of hoping for a boy, but no one’s saying it aloud!
I’ve told both Riley and Cole they can return to New York with you the day after Christmas, assuming you come. At first Riley was going to go back to Japan, then he decided against it. I wrote his grandfather inviting him here, but he said he was too old and too set in his ways to make the t
rip. He also said he understood Riley’s vacation was too short for a trip of that length.
I want you to know how grateful I am for the interest you’ve taken in Cole. It’s made all the difference in the world to him. I wish he and Riley got on better, but they don’t. I’m working on it!
I’m enclosing my Thanksgiving menu to entice you and Adam. Please try to make it. My Christmas menu is also enclosed. I only added one thing to it from our old traditional menu—plum pudding. Rand said he’s partial to it.
I hope you aren’t working too hard, Sawyer. New York is the place to be at this time of year. Enjoy yourself and get in touch even if it’s just to say hello.
Love,
Maggie
Maggie carried the letter out to the mailbox. The air was cold and damp, and the thin sweater she’d wrapped around her shoulders for the walk down the drive wasn’t much protection. But there was also a chill inside her. She felt awful about mentioning Rand to Sawyer in her letter. But she’d had to let her know he was going to be here. Sawyer had to make up her own mind.
Maggie leaned against the mailbox, unconscious of the cold, biting wind. How alone Sawyer must be feeling! How empty. Her heart went out to her daughter; she didn’t want to see her hurt. Perhaps in time she’d forget about Rand, find someone else to love. What hope was there for Rand and herself otherwise? Any relationship between them would tear this family apart.
Abruptly Maggie turned and began to run back to the house as though a demon were at her heels. The cold air filled her lungs; her heart pounded. But she couldn’t escape the words ricocheting in her head. What about me? What about me?
“Hey, I’m home! Anyone here?” Sawyer called as she bolted the door behind her. “Guess what. I took off early to cook dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs. I hope you’re hungry. I bought all the stuff on my way home. . . . Anyone here?” she called a second time.
Adam groaned. Not ten minutes ago he’d finished a triple-decker sandwich with a side bowl of Franco American something or other. He looked down at the dimples and crevices on the House Speaker’s face. The man just wasn’t coming alive. Maybe it was the nose, or the hair. ... The hell with it. “I’m here. Did I hear you say you were going to cook? The peanut butter and jelly princess of Austin, Texas?!”
“Come see for yourself.” Sawyer sailed her hat in the general direction of a chair. She flung her coat over another chair and sent her shoes and handbag in different directions.
Adam poked around the mesh bag. “Ahhh, jarred spaghetti sauce! Is this the one with savory herbs and spices that I’ll recognize as being better than my grandmother’s?”
“Same one. Of course, I’m going to add a few things to it to make it even better. I do know how to cook. It’s just not one of my favorite pastimes.”
“What is your favorite pastime?”
“Making love.”
Adam stared at her. “What happened to you today?”
“I don’t know. It started this morning when I put on my funky watermelon-colored hat. People stared at me. It was one of those contagious things. They smiled and I smiled. Strange for New York, eh?”
“Very strange. You should wear it every day if it has this effect on you. How long till dinner?” he asked, trying to look hungry.
“An hour, hour and a half at the most. I know you must be starved. I’ll hurry.”
“No, don’t hurry. Why don’t we have a drink while the sauce bubbles, or doesn’t it have to bubble since it’s from a jar?”
Sawyer peered at Adam’s face. “You’ve eaten, haven’t you?”
“A little of this and a little of that. Mostly I picked and nibbled. By ten o’clock I could probably eat a nine-course meal. You could put that time to good use by cleaning the bathroom. It’s your turn.”
“I was going to do it tomorrow.”
“That’s what you said last week. Once you do the meatballs, you know the rest takes care of itself. I’ll do the tub and shower if you do the sink and the floor. I’ll flip you for the john.”
“No, you won’t. I can handle all of it. Go back to your drawing board. Dinner will be at ten and I get to take the first shower in the clean bathroom.”
“Wipe down the damn walls, will you?”
“Go, go, go.” Sawyer made shooing motions out of the kitchen.
Adam settled himself in front of the drawing board, and within seconds the paper sprang to life. As he worked, his characters took on distinct personalities, and the little quote he finally thought up to give to the House Speaker in the bubble made him chortle. A few more bold strokes, his name scrawled at the bottom, and he’d finished for the day.
“Bathroom’s done!” Sawyer called. “I’m going to take a shower. Drain the spaghetti when the timer goes off. We can dine when you pour the wine.”
Adam’s stomach rumbled. He wasn’t hungry. But he would do justice to this culinary endeavor if it killed him.
Sawyer joined him later wearing a flowing tangerine-colored caftan and high-heeled slipers with fluffy pompoms. She’d applied a light dusting of powder to her face and added some perfume. Adam approved—oh, yes, he approved.
She played the perfect hostess that evening—waited on Adam as if he were the love of her life, inquired if the food was done properly, saw that his wineglass was filled, and kept her dinner conversation lively. He tried to ignore the strain he saw in her blue eyes.
“The least I can do is clean up. Take the wine bottle into the den and put on some good music. I’m too stuffed to do anything but crash out. You outdid yourself tonight, my dear,” Adam said in his best W. C. Fields voice.
“What rest of the wine? We drank it all. You drank most of it.”
“Guilty as charged. We’ll simply have to crack open another bottle. Get out of my way while I clean up.” In sixty seconds Adam had the dishes in the sink, the condiments back in the cabinet, and the lid on the spaghetti pot. He whisked the bread crumbs onto the floor, explaining that Marble would clean them up later. By the time he’d placed the bowl of fruit back in the center of the table, Sawyer had uncorked a second bottle of wine.
“Ah, if only this was Dom Perignon.” Adam sighed.
“You’re half-buzzed now. Riunite will be just fine. You’re lucky it isn’t Ripple.”
“I cut my teeth on Ripple. So did you. Don’t go getting fancy on me.” Adam grinned.
“We did have fun in those days, didn’t we?”
“Things haven’t changed all that much,” Adam said as he put his arm around her shoulder. “You’re you and I’m me. We grew up a little. Supposedly, we’re responsible adults now. Know what? Sometimes I want to be a kid again.”
Sawyer turned. “What you want, what we all want at some point in our lives, is yesterday. To go back and relive the important times. That’s what I’d like to do.”
Adam grew serious. “You’re talking about Rand, aren’t you? Why do you keep torturing yourself? You said it was over.”
“I didn’t say that. I did, actually.... What I mean is that’s what Rand said. I know he doesn’t mean it. It’s the age difference. When I see him at Christmas, I think we can patch it up. I know I’m going to try. Whatever I did to upset him will have faded and we’ll be able to talk and straighten it out.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” Adam asked quietly.
“It has to work! I can’t see myself going on without him. He loves me; I know he does. We . . . we just have a problem, and we’re going to work it out.”
“Maggie?”
Sawyer’s face colored. “I’m ashamed of myself, Adam. How could I have thought such a thing just because I saw Rand and Maggie talking? Talking, for God’s sake! I know I’ve always said Maggie was a man-eater, but I was just blowing off steam. Sometimes she made me so mad I couldn’t think of anything horrible enough to say about her. I must’ve been crazy to think she set out to snatch Rand from me. Maggie just wouldn’t do anything like that!”
“Well said, well said.”
“Fo
r God’s sake, she’s my mother! Besides, Rand is too decent, too much of a gentleman, to do anything so . . . so . . .”
“Shitful?”
“Yes, damn it, yes!”
“Hey! Cool down. I’m agreeing with you.” He poured from the bottle a second time. By now his eyes were glassy and he had to keep blinking in order to focus.
“I have it all planned. I know exactly what I’m going to say,” Sawyer told him, her voice slurring a bit. “I’ll make sure it’s at just the right time. I’ve rehearsed it a hundred different times. It really is true, that old saying ... if you want something bad enough, you can get it if you keep trying.”
“Sawyer, I don’t want to see you set yourself up for another disappointment.”
“Don’t look at me that way! There’s pity in your eyes!” Suddenly, she covered her face with her hands; her sobs came in great choking heaves.
“No, no, there’s not,” Adam said, alarmed. He crept closer to her, taking her into his arms. “My heart is breaking for you, Sawyer, but that’s not the same thing as pity, is it?”
She buried her face in the crook of his neck. He could feel her body shuddering, shaking with the force of her sobs racking through her delicate bones and heating her flesh. Too much wine, too little control, and Sawyer was fragmenting into tiny shards, each of them stabbing his heart.
Texas Heat Page 22
