"Horses can be like women that way," he said softly. "They seem laid back and restrained, but when they see what they want, they go for it."
He was very near, close enough for her to see the gold flecks in his amber-brown eyes. The tiny mole at the corner of his mouth was so well placed that on a woman it would have been called a beauty mark.
"I tried that once," Sharon said. "It doesn't always work."
He dropped his eyes and stood. "We should go back to the house. Dr. Jensen can take a look at that ankle."
"Dr. Jensen is a vet."
"So? A doctor is a doctor, he can tell if the bone is broken."
“You said it wasn't.''
"I said I thought it wasn't. I'm not a doctor. I'll get my horse, we can ride back double. I'm not taking any more chances with Melody, I'll send somebody out for her later."
I guess I brought that conversation to an abrupt end, Sharon thought morosely as she watched him walk away. Obviously any reference, no matter how oblique, to that last night ten years earlier was going to be met with silence.
He returned with the horse and mounted, pulling her up behind him. Sharon remembered the last time she had traveled the same way but this trip was a lot more sedate. He kept the horse at an even canter all the way back and carried her into the house.
"Just stay there, don't try to walk," he said as he deposited her on the living room couch.
"Yes, sir," Sharon replied and saluted.
"I'll see if Jensen is still in the stables. He was supposed to give the horses their shots today," he said and left.
Sharon's ankle was beginning to throb, and she was contemplating disobeying orders and hobbling to the bathroom for aspirin when she heard voices. Tay entered through the back door followed by Dr. Jensen.
"She's in here,'' Tay said, leading the way.
Dr. Jenson, a handsome man in his fifties, surveyed the patient with a critical eye.
"George," Tay said, "this is my wife, Sharon."
Sharon almost fainted. She glared at Tay while Jensen bent over her foot saying, "Congratulations, Mrs. Braddock. What a terrible thing to happen on your wedding day."
Tay, who was pretending not to notice Sharon's reaction, said, "It isn't broken, is it?"
"No, no. But it's a pretty bad sprain, and once the shock wears off it'll be painful," the doctor said. "Are you feeling it yet?"
"A little," Sharon said.
"Do you have any painkillers here?" Jensen asked.
"I have something I took for an abscessed tooth in my bag." She took out the bottle and showed it to him.
"They're an opiate," the doctor said. "People take them all the time. You won't be able to sleep without them."
Sharon swallowed two of the pills.
"Make sure she takes two every four hours," Jensen said. "And put some ice on that foot."
"I will," Tay assured him.
"It's a sorry way to spend your wedding night," the doctor said sympathetically.
"There'll be other nights," Tay said, and Sharon wanted to hit him.
After the doctor left, Sharon hissed, "Why did you tell him that we were married?"
“We are married.''
"You know what I mean. I thought we agreed that we were going to handle this discreetly."
"What was I supposed to do?" Tay asked. "He knows you're staying here with me.''
“Tay, I remember my father talking about that man. Dad said he's a nice enough guy but he spreads more information than Reuters. Everybody for miles around will know we're married now."
"Maybe that's better. How could you live in this house without an explanation? What would people think?"
"What would people think?" Sharon repeated, staring at him. "Tay Braddock, you're talking to me, the person who put you back together after more drunks and fights than I care to remember. You were the scandal of the San Gabriel Valley for years. You expect me to believe that you suddenly care what people think?"
"Maybe I'm changing my image," he said mildly, propping her leg on a pillow.
Sharon eyed him narrowly as he fussed over her. There was a reason for what he had done, and she was certain it had nothing to do with his concern about their reputations.
"I'll get the ice," he said and rose to go to the kitchen.
She listened to him emptying ice trays and opening cabinets, and by the time he returned she was feeling spacey.
"Here you go," he said, putting her foot into a dishpan and packing it with ice bags. "This ought to do it. Now just lie back and try to take a nap.''
Sharon found that advice easy to follow, and when Tay came back later on to give her more pills, she wasn't sure if she was awake or dreaming.
She swallowed dutifully and closed her eyes again.
He hesitated, then kissed her lightly on the mouth, certain that she wouldn't remember it.
Chapter 5
Sharon awoke the next morning in her own bed. She spent the next several days there, tended mostly by Rosa, who took over for Tay once she saw what had happened. Tay came and went, going out in the morning and returning in the evening, or sometimes not returning at all. Sharon felt that she was not entitled to any explanations so she asked no questions.
On her first day up she was in the kitchen, helping Rosa with the breakfast dishes, when the phone rang. Sharon was passing it and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"May I speak to Mrs. Braddock, please?" a man's voice said.
Sharon thought briefly of Rae, but her name hadn't been Braddock since she married Dan Philips.
"Uh," she said.
"Mrs. Taylor Braddock," the man said.
That's you, fool, Sharon said to herself. "Speaking," she replied.
"Congratulations on your wedding," the voice continued.
"Thank you," Sharon said briefly. "Who is calling, please?"
"Mrs. Braddock, this is David Morse. I represent Citrus Farms. We're a land development company licensed to operate in Los Angeles County. I assume you're heard of us."
"My... husband mentioned you," Sharon replied.
"Yes, I thought he might have done that. We approached your husband several weeks ago about selling your father's property to us. At that time he was not receptive to our plan, but I would like the opportunity to present our case to you, since I understand you have a half interest in the ranch."
"You understand quite a bit, Mr. Morse," Sharon said dryly, rolling her eyes at Rosa, who was listening.
"You're a lawyer, Mrs. Braddock, you know that things like titles and deeds are matters of public record," Morse replied smoothly.
"And I imagine you spend quite a bit of your time sifting through those records, looking for potential sellers to contact," Sharon said.
"That's the way to do business, Mr. Braddock," Morse said, unoffended. "I wonder if we might meet sometime soon and discuss what kind of a deal my associates and I have in mind."
"Mr. Morse, I'd like to be frank with you. My father would not have approved of my selling to you or any other developer, and as you know, my husband is also against it. But I'd like to keep an open mind and so I think it only fair that I hear your proposal."
"Wonderful," said Morse, obviously surprised that she was willing to listen. "Would it be possible for you to see me this afternoon if I came out there?"
"I'll be here," Sharon said, amused. He wasn't wasting anytime.
"Two o'clock?"
"Two is fine."
"I'll see you then, Mrs. Braddock."
"Goodbye."
Sharon hung up and shrugged at Rosa, who was shaking her head.
"You should have met him in town," Rosa said. "You'd better hope Tay doesn't see him."
"What's Tay going to do, run him off the place with a shotgun?"
"Maybe," Rosa said.
"Tay knew they would contact me."
“That doesn't mean he's going to like it.''
"All right," Sharon said. "What's on your mind?"
Ro
sa folded her dish towel smartly. "You have no more intention of selling this place than I have of flying to the moon. You're just doing this to aggravate Tay and show him that he can't control you or make decisions for you."
"You think it's a bad idea for me to explore all the angles before making a decision?''
"I didn't say that. I said that your motivation for meeting Morse is not what you're telling yourself it is."
"Practicing psychiatry without a license, Rosa?"
"Humph," Rosa said. She put the last dish away and shut the cupboard door firmly. "You know I'm right." She marched out of the room.
Tay chose that day to come back to the house at lunch time to change his clothes. He'd been breaking horses in the new paddock after a heavy rain and he was caked with mud. Sharon was installed in the living room going over the ranch deeds when he returned, wearing fresh clothes, his hair damp. He stood behind her shoulder and asked, "Why are you reading that stuff?''
"I have a meeting with Citrus Farms at two," Sharon replied.
He walked around slowly and faced her. "Why didn't you tell me that?"
"I'm telling you now.''
"You know what I mean," he said.
"Must I inform you in advance of my every move?" she inquired.
He swept the papers off the coffee table and onto the floor. Sharon leaped to her feet and flinched as her ankle protested.
"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping forward and taking her arm.
Sharon snatched it from his grasp. "Leave me alone. What do you think you're proving with that infantile display of temper? I have every right to talk to anybody I please concerning this ranch, and I will."
"Fine, Miss Know-it-all. I'm sure he'll be impressed with your vast knowledge of real estate and everything else, especially after talking to me." He stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.
Two for two, Sharon thought. I wonder who else I can infuriate before dark?
Morse arrived on the dot of two. He was a neatly dressed, well spoken man with the understanding, ingratiating manner of a coffin salesman. He seemed to be strangely nervous, until Sharon realized that he was afraid Tay was going to appear suddenly and break his neck. She assured him that her husband was out working and would not be back until evening, and they got down to business.
"Did your husband discuss our financial terms with you?" Morse asked after they had gone over the preliminaries in some detail.
"No."
"I thought not," Morse said with satisfaction, clearly certain that he was about to play his trump card. "We are prepared to pay $80,000 an acre, half on signing and the rest on final transfer of the deed. I feel confident that you will not do better anywhere."
Sharon was stunned. The ranch was over twenty acres. They were talking about a figure in excess of a million and a half dollars.
"And the money is only part of it," Morse said, pressing his assumed advantage. "Think of all the jobs you'll be bringing to the area. We hire locals for construction and road work. And we pay for all the improvements like sewer and water systems, the hookups to existing homes, street lamps and underground utilities...."
Morse continued to extol the virtues of Citrus Farms while Sharon pondered Tay's behavior. He had told her everything except the amount of the offer. He must have thought that so much money would sway her; no wonder he was upset when he found out that Morse was coming later that day.
Sharon assured Morse that she would think about it and got rid of him as soon as she decently could. She was waiting for Tay when he returned to the house at six.
"Did you have a nice time this afternoon?" he asked as he strolled through the door.
"Why didn't you tell me that Morse was offering eighty thousand an acre?'' Sharon countered.
"Not beating around the bush, are we?" Tay said. "Let's get right to the heart of the matter. Money."
"Tay, that's over three-quarters of a million each," Sharon pointed out reasonably.
"I got an A in arithmetic in fourth grade," he replied. "I figured that out already. And I'll tell you something else I determined with my superior mathematical ability. Morse will put four boxes on every one of those acres and charge two hundred grand for each of them. Can you multiply? That means his company makes ten times what he paid us for the land."
"Most people wouldn't care how much Morse's company made as long as they got their money."
"I'm not most people.''
"Aren't you even tempted?"
"So you want to take the money and run, huh? Forget all the blood and sweat your father put into this place and go back to Philly with a little nest egg. You can play lady lawyer all you want, you won't have to make a dime at it with that kind of money."
"I'm not playing at it, I'm a good lawyer," Sharon said quietly.
"Well, at least we know you can count." He yanked open the refrigerator door and removed a can of beer, popping the top with his thumb.
"You won't even consider it," Sharon said, determined not to let his attitude deter her from a thoughtful discussion.
"I've never been long on consideration," he replied, taking a healthy swallow of his beer. He faced her directly. "Look, you can pocket the cash and go back to your job. If we sell this place what do I have?"
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars," she replied, lifting her shoulders.
He shook her head. "I've got zip. I'm a bum, which is what I was before I got here."
"Nobody with that kind of money is a bum," Sharon said.
He stared at her. "You think money makes the difference? You've got a lot to learn. I've met more rich bums than I care to count. If you're not useful, productive, involved, you're a bum."
"You can buy another, smaller place, and keep the difference," Sharon said. "That amount is only for the value of the land. If you sell off your inventory—"
"My horses?" he said, outraged. "I'm not selling my horses!"
"Will you please listen to me and let me finish? I'm not talking about the horses, you can transport them to wherever you're going. I'm talking about excess machinery and equipment; this ranch is too big for your operation anyway. Ten acres would be enough, and you'd have the rest of the money to invest. I'd help you find another place."
"I don't want another place, I want this one." He sighed, obviously trying to control himself, and then said, "I can't believe you're talking this way, Sharon. You know what this ranch meant to our parents, and it means as much to me. I had nothing when I came here. I was... nothing. Your father took a chance on me, helped me to believe in myself because he believed in me. I turned my life around, right here, and I don't want to leave. Ever."
Sharon nodded slowly, inwardly elated. She had been playing devil's advocate to eliminate any shadow of a doubt, but now she was convinced. She didn't want him to know that yet, however.
"So what are you going to tell Morse?" Tay asked, watching her.
"I don't know," she said. "I have to think about it."
“What's to think about?'' he said impatiently.
"Unlike you, I am long on consideration," Sharon said. "I've learned not to make snap decisions."
"I suppose you'll be talking to Sun City, too," he said.
"I suppose so."
The telephone rang.
"Maybe they're on the phone right now," he said with false cheer. He picked up the receiver and barked, "Yeah?"
There was a pause and then he said, "Oh, George."
There was another, longer pause before Tay said, "I don't know, you can talk to her."
Sharon stared at him as he handed her the phone.
"What?" she said.
"I'll let him explain it to you," he said shortly and left the room.
"Dr. Jensen?" Sharon said.
"Hello,'' the doctor said. “How's the ankle?''
"Oh, much better, thank you. You were a big help."
"Good. Listen, I've been trying to persuade your husband to come to a little get together the wife and I are having
this Saturday night. It's an anniversary party, and we've invited some people from the area. Tay would never come to anything by himself, he always made an excuse, so we didn't bother to send him an invitation. But when I told my wife he was married, and to Dan Philips' daughter, she insisted that I call you. Some of your father's old friends will be there, they'd love to see you."
Emotional blackmail, Sharon thought. Wonderful. "Well, I don't know," Sharon said feebly. "My foot still isn't right and..."
"I thought you just said it was much better."
"It is, but Tay and I have been busy..." Busy fighting, that was true. The thought of spending an entire evening being congratulated on her marriage was more than she could bear.
"Well, if you're sure you can't make it,” Jensen said. He sounded so disappointed that she felt churlish and relented. He had been kind to her. Getting Tay to show up at anything was probably an accomplishment, and with Sharon in tow it would be a coup.
"All right," she said. "We'll make the time."
"Great," he replied. "We'll look forward to seeing you around eight. Black tie."
"We'll be there." Sharon hung up the phone, certain that Tay wouldn't mind going or he would have refused the invitation without consulting her. For some reason, he wanted people to know they were married and see them as a couple. Maybe he thought she would find it harder to sell the ranch and take off if she felt a part of the community.
"What did you tell him?" Tay asked, coming back into the room.
"I told him we'd go. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"I don't care either way," he said with infuriating indifference.
"It's formal, you know."
That gave him pause. "You mean like a tux?"
"That's what I mean."
He looked pained.
Hoist with your own petard, my boy, Sharon thought with satisfaction.
"I'm going out," he announced. "Rosa will be in to make dinner in a few minutes.''
"You don't have to keep bringing her here to cook," Sharon said. "If you're not going to eat I can make something for myself."
"Not with a bad foot."
"The foot's all better." Sharon dropped her eyes. "You can eat with me if you want, you know. You don't have to shun this place during the day as if it were a plague house."
A Marriage of Convenience Page 10
