“No way. We’re seeing daylight now. By this time tomorrow things should be settled with the boys. Sawyer is on the mend. This isn’t exactly the time to say this, but how would you like to honeymoon back in Hawaii?”
“I’d love it!” She kissed Rand soundly. “Now, keep your eye on that little girl in case her feet turn cold.” With that, Maggie raced back to the house. She let herself in quietly and watched as Martha eyed her up and down.
“I think I’ll have breakfast now. Everything. Flapjacks, eggs, ham, toast, and coffee. Make enough for three.”
“Three?”
“Three,” Maggie repeated.
Maggie ate and waited while Martha carried a steaming tray to the barn. Shortly after seven the police arrived. Maggie listened to Deputy Pierson’s explanations. “You’re welcome to search the house, Deputy,” she said courteously, “but I must ask you to be quiet. Martha and I are the only ones awake.”
“Where were you last night, Mrs. Tanner?”
“At what time?”
“All evening. My men were here after midnight, and your mother said you must have gone out. Your room was empty.”
“Well, I was here till around eleven or so. Then I went riding. I do that when I can’t sleep.”
“Did you ride alone?”
“No, as a matter of fact, Rand Nelson was with me.”
“Would you get him for me, or is he asleep, too?”
Maggie could feel her neck start to prickle. “As a matter of fact, he’s in the barn rubbing down the horses. I’ll call him for you.”
Her heart fluttering, Maggie walked out to the back porch, onto the driveway, and cupped her hands to her mouth. “Rand ... will you come here, please?” She almost fainted with relief when Rand walked out of the barn with a curry brush in his hand.
He sauntered over to Maggie as though he had all the time in the world. “What’s wrong?”
Maggie motioned to the kitchen and said, “The police want to talk to you.” They walked inside.
“Where were you last night, Mr. Nelson?” asked Deputy Pierson.
“With the others right here in the house till after eleven. Mrs. Tanner wanted to go riding, and I didn’t think she should go alone, so I joined her. I was rubbing down the horses.”
“Is Luana Simms here?”
“Look,” Maggie interrupted, “I told you you could search the house if you wanted.”
“No,” Rand said coldly. “He only searches if he has a warrant.”
“I can get one in an hour.”
“Then get one. Maggie, I’d like some breakfast.”
Martha was already whipping eggs in a bowl. She saw Deputy Pierson glance at the open dishwasher and the frying pans on the stove. “I always eat before the family,” she said, eyeing him coldly.
Pierson knew he was being conned, but there wasn’t anything he could do. “Enjoy your breakfast,” he said coolly, and left.
“I thought he was going to click his heels there for a minute,” Rand muttered.
“He’s only doing his job,” Maggie said. “I almost feel sorry for him.” She looked out the window at the departing police car. “Where’s Luana?”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s so petrified, she isn’t moving a muscle. We had a long talk after you went into the house. She’ll come through for you and the boys. She wanted to know what was going to happen to her. I told her you’d make sure she was well taken care of. So, as far as she’s concerned, you’re the white knight now, or is that knightess?”
“She’s a minor. We snatched her,” Maggie said fretfully.
“We didn’t snatch her—we picked her up. She called us. There will be a record of that from the phone booth. Under the circumstances, her being a minor will work in your favor if she tells the truth. She shouldn’t be allowed to stay with a father who abused her sexually.”
“I’m frightened, Rand.”
“So am I,” Rand said, laying his cheek on Maggie’s dark hair. “I have to get back to the barn before Luana gets itchy. Don’t forget to make those calls.”
Maggie looked at the clock: 7:50 A.M. She climbed the stairs and walked into Susan’s room, shaking her awake gently. “Shhh, it isn’t Jessie. I need your help.” She explained what had happened. “Call Ferris. He must know someone in Social Services we can trust. Do it now, okay?”
Susan was already dialing when Maggie closed the door behind her. She walked on down the hall into the nursery, smiling as she bent over the crib. Jessie was sucking her thumb, her blanket clutched in her hand. “Nothing is ever going to hurt you, little one. Not while I’m around, anyway. Sleep,” she crooned.
Next she stopped at Amelia’s door and knocked softly. Cary opened it and stood aside. Amelia was slipping into a robe. Again Maggie explained the situation.
“Grandpap would say it’s time to palaver a little. This family is owed a lot of favors, and it’s time to call them in. Seth kept a book on who owed who; it’s still in his desk. Will you do the honors?”
Amelia grinned. “Could you fortify me with some coffee while I’m doing it?”
“I’ll get it for you, honey,” Cary said. “You go down to the study and do what you do best. I love that word ‘palaver’.” He laughed. “What can I do?”
Maggie opened the door. “After you get her the coffee, stand around and listen to how the Colemans have survived all these years. You’re going to need the experience if you plan to stay in Texas. Your wife is a pro.”
Maggie tripped down the steps, her mind clicking. Maybe she was playing by different rules, Coleman rules, but two boys’ futures were at stake. Fair was fair. Sometimes you had to pull out all the stops. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but maybe it could buy truth. And that was all she wanted—the truth. They would all be seven-day wonders for a while, but they’d all survive.
“I think we’re going to have guests for lunch, Martha. A buffet. I can help you or we can have it sent it. What do you think?”
“I think I can handle it. I have a lot in the freezer. About a ton of fried chicken.” She laughed. “Those boys of yours can eat two at a time. I’ll just pop it all in the oven, make a mess o’ salads, and order some fresh cold cuts from Ferdie’s. You do whatever you have to do, ma’am; I’ll take care of this. And ma’am, I’m real happy about Miss Sawyer. I like her young man.”
“Thank you, Martha. Yes, Adam is a fine young man. We all like him.”
“This is all going to be all right, isn’t it, ma’am?”
“I hope so, Martha. We’ve had our little family problems with the boys, but they don’t deserve this; none of us do. The Simmses just marched into our lives and are trying to ruin us. Making a very good job of it, too.”
Martha snorted. “And him pretending to be so virtuous, reading the Bible and all. Always preaching to the girl. She’s not what we’re used to around here. I knew they were trouble the minute I saw them. You can preach—if you practice what you preach.”
Maggie backed out of the kitchen, hoping Martha had finished her monologue. She was right, though. Loyal Martha. If anyone knew the Colemans, she did.
At one o’clock Valentine Mitchell arrived, Dudley Abramson shuffling alongside her. Maggie noticed with amusement that he carried not only his own briefcase but hers as well. Later that afternoon, Amelia personally welcomed the lieutenant governor and poured him a drink. They chatted like old friends. The police chief shook Billie’s hand and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Maggie could hear them discuss Thad’s indecision about running for Congress. Susan introduced everyone to Rita Introne, the head of Social Services, Juvenile Division. Maggie watched out of the corner of her eye. As soon as Rita’s introductions were over and the small talk had trailed off, Rita followed Susan to the kitchen. From there, Maggie knew, they would go to the barn. Luana would be in good hands.
Maggie remembered her promise to Adam and greeted Steve Axelrod at the kitchen door. She showed him into the study and offered to keep one of the private lines open
for his newspaper. Then she talked. Steve made squiggles on his notepad. He listened. He wrote. He showed neither approval nor disapproval.
“May I talk to the boys?” he asked. “I’d like to get their views.”
Maggie hesitated. “I’ll ask them. It’s their decision.” She summoned the boys and explained the situation.
“Okay,” Cole said.
“Why not. Maybe it’s time we got to say something,” Riley said agreeably.
Steve leaned back in Seth’s chair. He was so skinny, he looked almost lost in it. Riley grinned. Cole smirked. It would take one hell of a man to fill that chair, and he said so to Steve.
“Hell, I’m just resting my butt. I’ve heard tales of Seth Coleman all my life. You’re right; there’s no one around here who could fit that chair. Give me a break, huh, and let me sit here. You guys into baseball?”
“I am,” Riley said shyly. “Cole here is an expert archer. He’s also an expert marksman,” he added generously.
“You trying to warm us up or something?” Cole asked suspiciously.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. I’m a good friend—and by good I mean grade school, high school, and college—of Adam Jarvis. Does that help?”
Cole grinned. “Shit, why didn’t you say so?” He pulled up two chairs and both boys sat, each rotating his chair to straddle the seat.
“So talk. Tell me what it’s like to see your life shot to hell. Tell me what you thought, what you felt. Tell me what it’s like to be a Coleman with all this money. There’s all kinds of people out there on your terrace that I only read about in the paper. Powerful people. They’re here for you. Tell me about Luana Simms. Tell me what you know about Ben Simms. Tell me about your dreams, your ambitions. I want it all.”
They gave it to him.
Steve hooked a gadget to the phone and played the tape to an associate on the other end of the line. He shook their hands. They weren’t kids; they were young men. Colemans, true; but they were something else. The future. From the Texas panhandle to Yale and Notre Dame. East and West.
The Colemans gathered together at exactly two-thirty. Sid Jackson, the anchorman for the six-o’clock news, held out a microphone. Maggie stepped forward. She spoke haltingly at first, and then the words flowed. Out of the corner of her eye she could see both boys, Shadaharu Hasegawa behind them.
“Luana Simms called me last night and asked for my help. I brought her here. Rita Introne from Social Services is with her. They’re coming now.”
They were like a gaggle of geese, firing questions like machine-gun bullets. Cameras clicked and the news stations fought for clear shots. Luana licked her dry lips. She searched the crowd for Riley and Cole, then broke free from Rita’s grasp and walked over to them.
Her conversation, because it was brief and no one expected it, was not overheard. “I couldn’t spoil your chances to go to Yale and Notre Dame. I bet you thought I was so dumb, I didn’t know they were the best Ivy League schools going. I’m sorry. Real sorry.”
“Just tell the truth, Luana,” Cole said softly. “Don’t worry about us.”
“You’ll be okay. That lady with you, she’ll make sure nothing happens to you,” Riley whispered.
Cole thought the girl’s back was a little straighter as she returned to Rita Introne. They listened as she told her story, trying to keep the horror from their faces. When it was all over and Luana was taken to the children’s shelter, Riley bowed low to his grandfather. “I have regained our honor, have I not, Grandfather?” he asked anxiously.
“There is no one who walks this earth who could ever convince me otherwise. Come. I think we must eat some ... fried chicken.” He made a slight grimace. “I wonder if it is as bad as Yankee bean soup.”
Cole smiled. “Sir, my mother made something special for you. You won’t have to eat fried chicken.”
“My boy, you have just saved my life,” the Japanese said heartily.
“Will you stay on, Grandfather, just for a little while? I must remember to return the money to you for the trip.”
“I will go to New York and see Sawyer. I want to see with my own eyes this miracle that was performed. I have seen that you are fine. I came only to show support.” Both boys beamed when he kissed them. “Come. I can’t wait to see what Mrs. Tanner has prepared for me.”
When the last car left the driveway, Cole and Riley stood alone, one dark, one fair. Neither could see the family watching them from the terrace. “We almost lost all of this,” Cole said softly as he waved his arm about.
Riley reached into his back pocket and pulled out his baseball cap. He settled it carefully on his head. “Now it feels right.” He bent down and reached inside the Berlinetta and pulled out a cap. He shoved it at Cole.
Cole looked at the yellow letters. Notre Dame. Son of a gun. He clapped it on his head. “It’s not so bad being a Coleman.”
“Not bad at all.” Riley grinned.
The Coleman family’s story continues in
TEXAS FURY
Read on for a special excerpt.
A Kensington eClassic on sale May 2013!
CHAPTER ONE
It wasn’t your ordinary dime store synthetic satin groundbreaking ribbon. This was real French satin ribbon, specially ordered by Amelia Coleman Assante and trimmed with a half inch of Spanish lace. Yards of the opulent ribbon festooned the sequined pylons that were manned by a pair of handsome guards wearing well-fitted cobalt-blue uniforms. The shears, while not overly large for such a momentous occasion, were solid gold. “Nothing but the best for this opening,” Amelia cooed to her husband. “The crowd expects it. Smile, darling. We’re going live.” Cary Assante looked up at the tiny figure standing on top of Assante Towers. He watched as one of the cameramen signalled to the commentator who waited on top of the building.
“This is Dave Harrison of KBT Eyewitness News reporting to you live from atop Assante Towers in downtown Austin. All you armchair viewers should be glad you’re viewing this dedication in your warm living rooms. Today’s temperature is well below the freezing mark. A record breaker, ladies and gentlemen, but a nice way to start off the Christmas season. I’ll be switching you to Neal Tyler, my associate, in just a minute, but first I want to tell you a little bit about today’s groundbreaking ceremonies. Cary Assante, the creator of this architectural immensity, this city-within-a-city known as Miranda, will be cutting the ribbon shortly. I was told before airtime that a large crowd was not expected due to this record-breaking cold, but there must be a thousand people down there. Cary Assante is married to Amelia Coleman, and here in Texas, anything the Colemans are involved in is major news. This affair today, ladies and gentlemen, takes the spotlight away from the oil crisis that’s paralyzed our state for so long.
“The governor and the lieutenant governor are here, as well as the newly appointed mayor of Miranda. Yes, Miranda will have its own mayor, and even its own zip code. Senator Thad Kingsley of Vermont is in attendance with his beautiful wife Billie, who was once married to Moss Coleman. Two of our own congressmen are here, and every socialite in the register is down there, all wearing their best furs. The Crystal City Band is down there, too, as well as the fire department and rescue squad.
“This is a wonderful turnout for Cary Assante, who worked more than ten years to complete this magnificent city within a city. KBT News will be taking you inside Assante Towers tonight for the gala opening in the grand ballroom. The color scheme for tonight’s festivities is red and silver, with over fifty thousand poinsettia plants flown here from San Diego. Special heaters were required for the planes and the trucks that transported the plants. It’s obvious that no expense was spared for this momentous occasion. And the crowd down below is loving it. This is Dave Harrison, reporting live from Miranda. Back to you, Neal.”
The Crystal City marching band swung into its third lusty rendition of “Deep in the Heart of Texas” as Cary Assante and local dignitaries mounted the beribboned dedication platform outside the Miranda Tou
rist and Information Center. The new mayor of Miranda drew himself up to his full six foot four inches. Thin streams of vapor escaped his pursed lips. He tried valiantly not to shiver in the record-breaking cold, but was failing miserably. His teeth chattered as he made his short speech, which was amplified by an echoing sound system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is indeed a proud day for all of us. This marvelous state-of-the-art complex that has taken ten years and billions of dollars to build is your inner city. You who are privileged to live here will never have to stray outside these boundaries. The creators of this masterpiece have thought of everything. But I won’t keep you out in this cold or in suspense any longer—I suggest Mr. Assante cut the ribbon right now! I look forward to seeing you all this evening for the gala in Assante Towers. And now,” the mayor shouted, “the creator of Miranda, Mr. Cary Assante.”
Cary stepped forward, Amelia at his side. Her smile was brilliant and full of pride as she handed her-husband the gold shears. “This is your moment, darling. Your dream is officially a reality.”
“Our dream, babe,” Cary whispered. His hand trembled as he cut the shimmering ribbon. He felt light-headed. All about him was a babble of congratulatory voices. The band members made a valiant effort to render still another chorus of “Deep in the Heart of Texas.”
Amelia stepped back. This was Cary’s time, and he deserved all the accolades. All she wanted was to find Billie and Thad and get inside, where it was warm.
Amelia Coleman Assante possessed the kind of beauty that comes only with maturity and being at peace with oneself. She was tall, but not as tall as her handsome husband. She carried her height with dignity and dressed to that dignity with carefully chosen designer clothes that masked a thinness that spoke of past health problems. Her soft gray eyes were almost translucent, a perfect complement to her hair, which was more silver now than chestnut. The fine lines around her eyes and the deeper creases alongside her nose spoke more of character than age, as did the light brown spots unsuccessfully covered with makeup. Perfectly white capped teeth, slightly yellowed now from medication and too much tea, nibbled on a thin lower lip to stop it from trembling with the cold. To those standing in the crowd who knew her, she was every bit as striking and commanding as she’d been in her earlier days.
Texas Heat Page 52
