The Tycoon

by Anna Jeffrey

  “You’re such a devil,” she replied.

  They left the shower, with her feeling sated, shampooed, scrubbed and cleaner than she had ever felt in her life.

  On their way to the kitchen, she stopped and looked outside. The sidewalks and streets were empty. The sky was gray and looked tumultuous. A norther had been forecast and apparently it had arrived overnight. No doubt it had dropped the temperature even more. No wind could be heard from inside the condo, but it could be seen in a fully unfurled flag in the distance and in the Christmas decorations lashing the light poles down on the sidewalks. She imagined it whistling and howling up and down the brick streets that ran between the multistory buildings.

  “Looks like we’re going to be housebound today,” she said. “We’ll have to watch the movies I brought. Or football.” She looked at him and grinned. “Or I can get even with you for what you did to me in the shower.

  “Hold that thought for later. I’ve got a plan.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ll show you after we eat.”

  Shannon straightened the kitchen from the night before as he pulled eggs and bacon from the refrigerator. “I had to go shopping so we’d have something to eat,” he said.

  “No way,” she said.

  “I took your advice and carried all of the food down to the Double-Barrel. Since I gave my housekeeper the day after Christmas off, I had no food”

  Shannon couldn’t imagine him in a grocery store, but then, he could probably handle anything, even a trip to a supermarket.

  While they cooked, the Rose Parade showed on the small kitchen TV that hid behind a door in one of the cabinets. Calls began to come, all from his family members, wishing him a happy new year. She hadn’t heard him say for sure how large his family was. She hadn’t given it much thought before, but it dawned on her that she had never received a happy new year call from her sister. If it weren’t for Grammy Evelyn, she and her sister probably wouldn’t even spend Christmas together.

  “How was Christmas with your family?” she asked him as she manned skillets of sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs.

  He waited for toast to pop up. “Interesting.”

  That wasn’t the answer she expected and she glanced at him across her shoulder, saw him

  focused on buttering the toast. “Interesting?”

  “I started to say entertaining, but that would be the wrong word for sure. How was yours?”

  He laid the butter knife beside a stack of several slices of toast and reached inside the cupboard. Apparently he didn’t want to discuss how he spent Christmas.

  She scraped the scrambled eggs out of the skillet into a bowl. “Well I couldn’t say it was interesting. Dinner at my sister and brother-in-law’s house. Some cousins came from out of town. ”

  “The Houston side of the family, huh?”

  Oh, hell. She looked up from lifting the bacon from the hot skillet, feeling her cheeks heat up. He was grinning. He winked.

  She laughed then, feeling guilty as she turned off the heat under the skillet. “Okay, I fibbed a little that night. I don’t have any relatives in Houston.”

  He came to her and placed his hands on her waist. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me why you did that.”

  “You don’t have to wait until someday. I was confused and conflicted. I wanted to be with you, but I couldn’t stand for you to think I was bad.”

  He was still grinning. “But you are bad. In a good way.” He pulled her close and nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. “You’re so bad, you turn me into a wild man. Make me feel like I’m eighteen again.”

  They kissed again, a long languid joining, all minty-tooth-pasty and sweet, with her arms around his wide shoulders. She could feel his erection through his sweats. She playfully wriggled against him. He caught her hand, placed it over him and she felt his firm shape through the soft knit.

  “We should go back to bed,” he said huskily. “Let me set a record.”

  “If we spend so much time in bed, don’t you think we’ll get tired of each other?”

  “Not a chance.”

  They kissed again until she pulled away and smiled up at him. “We should eat, cowboy. Breakfast is getting cold. And I didn’t slave over this hot stove to end up with cold breakfast.”

  After breakfast, they tidied the kitchen, then they bundled up. He produced a skullcap and pulled it onto her head, wrapped a knitted muffler around her neck and they strolled the city streets, something Shannon had never done in spite of living in Fort Worth for years.

  Most of the retail stores were closed, but all of the eateries and bars were open and festive, with big-screen TVs showing the day’s events. Drake knew the business people and they knew him. Everyone greeted him enthusiastically. At one place, they had beer and deli sandwiches and talked football with a group who had come to spend New Year’s Day downtown. Before leaving, he told her he owned the building and his offices were on the upper floors.

  As the day waned, they returned to his condo. Cuddling under a blanket on the oversize sofa in the living room, they attempted to watch the Rose Bowl game, but soon became so absorbed by pleasing each other, they missed most of it.

  They slept in each other’s arms again Saturday night, and on Sunday morning, she prepared to say good-bye. As she shrugged into her coat just inside the front door, he said, “I’m taking some time off in January. Kicking back a little. Can you get free this week?”

  “For a whole week?”

  “I know you can’t get away at night. Maybe we could do some day dates.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “You can call and let me know, I guess, and I’ll see if I can do it.”

  “Good enough.”

  They kissed good-bye before opening the front door. He walked her up the hallway, rode with her on the elevator and walked her to the parking garage. “Be careful driving,” he said.

  She slid behind the wheel, closed her door and buzzed down the window. “Thanks for the weekend” she said, as she fitted her bluetooth against her ear.

  He bent to the car window’s level and pointed to it. “Don’t let that thing distract you.”

  She was still grinning like an idiot. “I won’t, Dad.”

  He gave her his little-boy grin. “Okay, okay. I told you I’m possessive.” He straightened, still looking down at her, then bent again and kissed her. “Good weekend.”

  Oh, it was more than good, she thought. It had been glorious. And it had completely destroyed her idea of classifying their meetings as just sex. “The best,” she said softly.

  She buzzed up the window and backed out of the parking slot. He was still watching when she pulled out onto the street into the traffic.

  Forty minutes later, as she entered the Camden city limits, her phone warbled and she keyed into the call.

  “I’ve been studying my schedule and the weather,” he said. “Wednesday’s a good day. How does lunch on the Gulf sound?

  “The Gulf of Mexico?”

  “Do you know another Gulf?”

  “Uhhh, no. No, I don’t. It sounds great, but you said day date.”

  “Airplane, darlin’. Airplane.

  A little squiggle slithered through her stomach. Oh, my God. They were going to the Gulf on his airplane. For lunch.

  Chapter 28

  In the afternoon after New Year’s Day, as Betty Lockhart neatly folded her new shorts and tops into her suitcase, she was thinking about her family. Except for Drake, she hadn’t heard from a single one of them since the Christmas Day fiasco at the Double-Barrel. They hadn’t even called to wish her a happy new year. As usual, they were probably mad at her instead of the person they should be mad at, Bill Junior.

  She’d had a horrible New Year’s Eve, which had included a rubber-chicken dinner with Barron at his country club. Who were they trying to kid, calling that atrocious food fine dining? Dancing to a geriatric band with an accordion had followed the heartburn-generating meal. She had asked Barron to bring
her home before the midnight hour. They had hailed the new year over a cup of coffee in her living room. She only hoped the evening wasn’t a harbinger of the coming year.

  Ever since she had moved away from the Double-Barrel, a new year had put her in a melancholy mood and so far, this year was proving no different. Thirty-five years ago when she had married Bill Junior, she hadn’t been able to imagine her future, but she must have believed that by this point in her life, her family would all gather on holidays and everyone would be filled with love and happiness. So much for teenage dreams. Reality had set in early in her marriage. She hadn’t even seen her own parents at Christmas. They were spending the winter in their RV.

  Bill Junior had probably spent New Year’s with that Luck woman and most likely had not been bored. He was never bored. Or boring. He made things happen. Damn the bastard anyway. She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t hate the father of her three smart, wonderful children. Not only could she not hate him, she had a hard time staying mad at him, even when she needed that anger to keep her heart from being ripped from her chest.

  She returned her attention to her packing, trying to shove him and her kids out of her mind. She had a lot to do. She and Barron were scheduled to fly to Florida on Saturday, where they would board a cruise liner for the Caribbean, then Cancun and points south. She could hardly wait. A luxury ocean cruise was something she had wanted to do her entire life.

  Of course she could have already gone on a cruise if she had wanted to. She certainly had the money available to her. All she had to do was call the Double Barrel’s accountant and someone would arrange the whole thing for her. But what fun would it be to do it alone? Dozens of times she had wished Bill Junior would consent to share the experience with her. Or perhaps Kathryn. But her daughter was so wrapped up in horses and cowboys, she would be bored to tears on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

  Betty had never nagged her daughter about it because she was empathetic. She knew more about boredom than most people. She spent a great deal of her time in that state.

  The warble of the phone took her from her task and her woolgathering. Checking Caller ID, she saw a number she didn’t recognize, but picked up anyway. She was expecting several phone calls.

  “Hi, Betty. How are you?”

  Betty recognized the voice at once. Donna Schoonover. She didn’t know Donna well, had only seen her a few times here and there when she had been with Drake. As far as Betty knew, he was the only mutual interest she and Donna shared. “Why, I’m just fine, Donna. How are you?”

  “Wonderful. How were your holidays?”

  “Wonderful,” Betty lied. “How were yours?”

  “Fantastic. Mama and Daddy and I had a fabulous Christmas. Just the three of us. Mama gave the help the weekend off and we flew up to Aspen. It was marvelous. Aspen is so amazing. It’s gorgeous this time of year.”

  Betty closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with two fingers. Sometimes this young woman’s hyperbole made Betty’s ears want to ache. She had never heard anyone Donna’s age use words like she used. She supposed it was all of that European education she’d had. “Oh, I’m so glad you had a good time.”

  “Listen, I’m hearing some juicy talk about your son. I confess I called to pick your brain. I hope you don’t mind.” A titter came across the line.

  Betty’s interest piqued. “About Drake? What kind of talk?”

  “His new girlfriend. No one knows who she is or where she came from. People are wondering if she landed from Mars.” Donna laughed.

  Drake hadn’t mentioned a word about a new female in his life. “Well, my goodness. I don’t know who she is. Who told you?”

  “Oh, a little bird.” Donna tittered as if she had just said something cute and funny instead of throwing out an age-old cliché. “Actually, a son of one of Daddy’s friends went hunting with Drake at Stone Mountain Lodge before Christmas. He said Drake was bummed out because some woman he was really interested in stood him up. And he got terribly drunk.”

  Betty’s hand tightened on the receiver. She could count on her fingers the number of times she had seen her serious-minded son drunk. In that regard, none of her children were like their father, thank God. “Drake got drunk?”

  “And that’s not all. Mitzi saw him downtown yesterday with a redhead—I presume it was the same woman—and they were practically molded together, if you know what I mean. Mitzi said her hair looked absolutely awful, like it had been combed with an eggbeater.” Donna laughed raucously. “Mitzi’s so funny.”

  No wonder he had cut the conversation short yesterday when she had called him to wish him a happy new year, Betty thought. His girlfriend must have been with him. “Well, my goodness,” she repeated, mystified.

  “You really don’t know about her?”

  “Well, no. But then I’ve been busy. I’m getting ready to go to the Caribbean with Barron.”

  “Oh, that’s just marvelous,” Donna exclaimed. “You’ll have the most amazing time you’ve ever had. I just know it. It’s too bad you don’t know anything about Drake’s new friend. I was relying on you.”

  Her tone of voice changed to a whine. “You know, I miss him so much. He’s such a sweet guy and he treated me just wonderful. I know he didn’t like me drinking so much gin. I’ve been talking to Mama’s therapist and I’ve cut waaay back. I’ve quit smoking, too.”

  “That’s good,” Betty said absently, distressed that Drake hadn’t confided in her. He had always talked openly with her about his friends and activities.

  “I know I could put things back together with him,” Donna was saying, “if he’d just give me a chance. But he doesn’t even return my phone calls.

  “Oh, my. It isn’t like Drake to be rude.”

  “If you have any tips how to get his attention, I’d love to hear them.”

  Betty couldn’t believe her ears. She was sure Donna Stafford-Schoonover had to beg few people for attention. As for tips? Half the time Betty didn’t know how to get along with her cranky older son herself. “What kind of tips?”

  “The name of his new friend, hmm?”

  “How can knowing her name help you revive your relationship with my son?”

  “If I knew her name, I could find out who she really is. What my competition is, you know? I have all kinds of resources. For all we know, she could be a terrible gold digger. And I know you don’t want that for poor Drake.”

  “No, I don’t. I suppose I could ask.”

  “Would you? That would be fabulous. Well, you have my number. Just let me know what you find out. You can call me any time.”

  “Of course,” Betty said.

  “We should do lunch. When you get back from your cruise. You can tell me all about what an amazing time you had.”

  “Yes, let’s do,” Betty said.

  They disconnected and Betty stood there a few seconds, wondering what Drake was up to. She thought a few more seconds about how to open a dialogue with him. Yesterday, she had tried to tell him about her upcoming cruise, but he had practically hung up on her. Well, she could tell him today. Just because the rest of the world considered today a holiday didn’t mean he did. She speed-dialed his cell number.

  He came on the line with a cheery “Hey, Mom.”

  Maybe he was glad to hear from her. “Listen, Son, in case any of you are interested in my whereabouts the next couple of weeks, I want to let you know—”

  “C’mon, Mom. Don’t play the pity card on me. You know we’re all interested in where you are and what you’re doing.”

  “I want to let you know Barron and I will be leaving on our cruise the end of the week.”

  Silence. “Well that’s something you’ve been wanting to do,” he said at last. “What day are you leaving?”

  “On the eighth. I also want to ask you something. One of my friends told me she saw you downtown yesterday with a woman. She said the two of you were cuddled up like lovebirds. Do you have a new woman in your life?”

 
More silence.

  “Drake?”

  “So that’s what this call is really about?”

  Damn. How could he read her mind over the phone? “Of course not. I just wanted—”

  “I don’t know who saw me, Mom, but what I’m doing or who’s with me while I’m doing it is nobody’s business.”

  “But surely you can tell your mother what’s going on.”

  “How’s this? If there’s something to tell, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Well, my stars, Drake. You’ve never been so secretive.”

  “I know. And maybe that’s been a mistake.”

  “You won’t even tell me her name?”

  “I don’t know if she’d appreciate that. She might like her privacy.”

  Tears rushed to Betty’s eyes, but she sniffed them back. “Oh. I see. Well, whatever. I guess that’s a good thing.” She sniffed again. “Listen, since I’m leaving town, can we have lunch this week?”

  “Let me check.”

  She waited, knew he was scrolling through his Blackberry. Drake’s whole life was programmed into that damn machine. These days, he hardly did anything spontaneously, even lunch with his mother. She had often wondered why so many women put up with it.

  “How about tomorrow?” he said when he came back on the line.

  “Good. Where shall we eat?”

  “Rusty’s Grill okay?”

  Betty frowned. She hated trying to have a conversation in noisy bistros, wondered if Drake had chosen that café for just that reason. “I’d rather go somewhere a little quieter.”

  “Okay, there’s Reata? One o’clock.”

  “Good. I’ll see you there at one.”

  They disconnected, with Betty more curious than ever. Why in the world would he hide the identity of a new woman in his life? He had never done that before. Well, she might have struck out with this phone call, but she could ask him more questions at lunch.

  Chapter 29

  The next morning, Betty dressed in casual navy slacks and a light blue sweater and drove downtown to Reata, arriving before one o’clock. She already had coffee when her punctual son strode purposefully toward her table, speaking to several diners along the way. Everywhere he went, he knew people and they knew him.