by Caryl McAdoo
“When he couldn’t call the last hundred I bet, I told him his permission for me to date his daughter was good enough to call.” He laughed. With an angled swipe, he crossed the four imaginary sticks. “My four jacks beat his four nines, and the next thing you know, I’m watching him walk her down the aisle.”
Vicki clapped her hands. “So you did win her in a card game.”
He raised an eyebrow and stared at her. She ducked, obviously embarrassed. “Yeah, guess you could say that. She’d already told me he wouldn’t let her date an old man like me, but that if he would say yes, she’d love to go out.”
Marge shook her head. “Nice story, Dub, but what does that have to do with us?”
“Lady Luck. Dear Destiny, fickle fortune or fate? Whatever you want to call it. The lack thereof sent Dorothy and Charlotte home.”
“So because of one incident, you’re trusting the rest of your life to luck?”
“Isn’t just the one incident.” He waved his hand over his head. “Everything I’ve got is because of being in the right place at the right time. I inherited a little piece of money from my grandmother just when a guy I knew finagled a mineral lease on a thousand acres up in Oklahoma. If he’d hadn’t been short of cash and needed my two grand to finish his well, I’d never have gotten in on that deal—or the next one, or the next.”
He shook his head. “In no time, I’m buying up half the old leases in East Texas.” He rocked back and filled his lungs.
Natalie leaned in. “Why’d you do that?”
He pointed to the floor. “I’d lucked into a little known fact. Under the shallow and played-out East Texas oil, a monstrous pocket of natural gas waited to be let out.”
Caught up in the story, Vicki spun around and faced Natalie. “They call it the Smack-over.” She turned back and nodded. “Right?”
“That’s right, darling. All your library time wasn’t wasted.”
She gave the other ladies a sideways glance. “How’d you know?”
He winked then checked the wall clock. “I suggest you ladies get some sleep. The limo will be here at seven and will leave as soon as the credit cards arrive.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Journal entry - May 30th
Parting is not sweet sorrow, it’s agony. Can’t believe I let them go so far for so long.
Sleep. What bliss. If only Vicki could comply with Preston’s suggestion to get some, she’d be more than pleased to, but for her, it didn’t work that way. When most folks’ bedtime rolled around, sleep flittered about like an illusive dragonfly that came - or left - of its own accord.
A creature of the night, she could fall asleep as easily as an autumn leaf floated to the ground - so long as the sun shone brightly. After dark, a different story, and besides, until she figured out who was feeding the man all the tidbits of information that she didn’t necessarily want him to know, she might not sleep at all.
She paced and pouted, scribbled a list in logical order, then analyzed what her gut told her. She hoped it had been Charlotte before she kissed him goodbye, but didn’t really think so. The belle had been too busy trying to seduce him. So who could it be? The question dogged her until almost dawn, then as if someone had flipped a switch, she passed out.
“Wake up, dear.”
A hand shook her shoulder. She opened one eye. “Lady Bug? What time is it?”
“Six ten, and Dub’s cooking breakfast. Want any eggs?”
She scooted up in the bed. “Sure. How long do I have?”
“Oh, I’d think at least fifteen minutes.”
She swung both legs over the side then stared at the older woman a moment. “You didn’t tell him about the library, did you?”
“Goodness, no. I wondered about that myself.”
“Didn’t think so, but I could not get to sleep last night for all my wondering.” She stretched then waved Marge out. “So anyway, thanks. I’m up, and I’ll be there.”
She glanced at her wrist. “Okay, dear. See you then.”
With almost two minutes to spare, Vicki slipped into her seat. Marge and Preston helped Audrey with last minute preparations. The bacon, biscuits, grits, sliced tomatoes, and skillet of steaming gravy already loaded the table.
Preston set a stack of pancakes on one corner and her eggs - blindfolded and lace held - in front of her then slipped into his seat. “Morning. Glad you could make it.”
She flipped him a smirky quarter-nod. Probably more than any man desired at this time of night. The one thing she hated about being here was all this nasty, too-early rising. She’d sleep until noon everyday if she had her druthers. “Is this like a last meal tradition or something?”
He laughed. She loved it when he laughed. “I guess you could call it that.”
She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I don’t want a last meal.”
“I know.”
She started to ask for buying suggestions, but decided it might be on his rules list. She sure didn’t want to start out to Dallas in the hole. “Not that I am, but asking for help is one of the negatives on your list, isn’t it?”
He grimaced. “Am I so transparent?”
Audrey set another batch of pancakes on the opposite end and sat down. “Marge, want to bless the food?”
She did then the man took to eating. Vicki loved the way he ate - with restrained gusto. She sipped her coffee and nibbled a biscuit, wondering exactly what he was after with this shopping trip to Dallas. That and the identity of her snitch, took turns on the center stage of her mind while everyone else seemed too busy eating to do much talking.
Once the pace slowed, and the conversation flowed beyond food, Vicki made herself focus. But before anything useful was said, Jorje strolled in with a UPS letter in his hand.
“This what you’re looking for, Boss?”
Preston ripped it open. Five gold cards fell out. “I believe it is.”
The Mexican jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Limo’s ready, too.”
“Good.” He stood, scooped up the cards, then held his arms out and motioned toward the door. “Let’s go, ladies. Time for another adventure.”
“Well, wait a minute. I have to get my purse.”
“Me, too.”
Chairs scraped the floor in a ruckus, and all the women scurried toward the bedroom hall.
“And I’ve got to get my shoes on. I’m not wearing rabbits to Big D.” Vicki flashed him her sweetest, most innocent smile then followed the ladies.
At the car, one of the same stretched out Cadillacs as before, Preston waited by the opened door. He smiled as he handed out the cards. Vicki boarded last.
He stuck his head inside the door. “Pin is the last four digits of your social security numbers. Get yourselves some cash. The car and hotel are already paid for.” He looked at everyone in turn. “Write down every penny you spend and everywhere you go. Not being able to account for your time or money is bad.”
No one responded.
“Okay. The car will leave Dallas at six sharp Thursday evening. Don’t be late, and have fun.”
Holly waved her new card. “We’ve got it.”
“Good.” He closed the door and stepped back.
Vicki studied the apple trees—except they were vines—as the limo eased alone the lane. Once it turned onto the farm-to-market, she faced the other women. “So, who’s the snitch?”
No one said anything, but neither did anyone look away.
“Come on, ladies. Someone’s been talking to Dub, and I want to know who.”
Again no one responded.
She looked at Marge. “Any ideas?”
The older woman shook her head. “I know nothing.”
“Wait a minute.” Natalie gazed out the window. “Why do you think it was one of us? It could just as easily have been Charlotte.”
“Yeah, or Dorothy,” Holly offered.
“Not Charlotte. You heard her. She was too busy doing everything she could to get him in bed. I don’t think she would�
��ve said anything, didn’t have time. Besides, ruining me was not on her mind.”
“Well, as glad as I was to hear from her when she called from Billy Bob’s, I can’t believe she had the nerve to admit she went after him that way.” Holly pulled her leg up under her. “Anyway, there’s still Dot - or Virginia? Either one of them could’ve said something.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. They’ve both been gone too long, and he just mentioned it last night.”
Holly held her hand up and waved it. “There’s another plausible explanation.”
“Like what?”
“Well, after he hired me and before we came in March, there were several times I thought I was being followed.” She looked around. “Anyone else notice a lot of black sedans lurking around?”
Vicki shook her head. “I didn’t. Why would he do that?”
Audrey patted Vicki’s knee. “Wait a minute. Holly may have something here. Now that she’s mentioned it, I thought a time or two someone was following me, but never thought of it being Preston. Anyway, nothing ever happened, so I chalked it up to paranoia. But I could see Dub checking us out.”
Vicki leaned back. Maybe that’s what it was. Maybe he’d hired PIs to follow the ladies around. She could imagine him doing it, too. What else had Preston hired his private snoops to do? How deep into her past had the goons dug? She hugged herself. What had he found out? Man, it didn’t make a bit of difference what she bought him in Dallas. She was a goner for sure, and that broke her heart.
* *
Marge watched the younger woman and pondered the new revelation. After seeing the hurt in Vicki’s eyes, she spoke up. “Well, of course he had us followed. Ran background checks, too, I’m sure.”
Vicki looked up. “I hope you’re so wrong.”
“Your past that sordid?”
She nodded.
“I think Marge is right.” Audrey leaned in. “See? I lied on my application and got to feeling bad about it. When I fessed up, he didn’t act surprised at all - or mad either. I thought he would be so angry that he’d send me home.”
In the same hushed tone, Holly asked, “What’d you lie about?”
“Being married before.” She took a deep breath. “And having my ex-husband’s name tattooed on my hind-end.”
“You didn’t have to lie about that. Shouldn’t have answered at all. He didn’t have one right to ask such a thing.” Suppressed snickers went round the cavernous limo. Marge managed to swallow hers, but couldn’t hide the grin. “Well, he didn’t, but I could see how that would be a problem for you. So exactly what did he say when you told him?”
Audrey recounted the conversation in minute detail. In the end, Preston’s reaction pleased Marge. A lesser man might have wanted to see the evidence. Once the cook finished her story, the others fell silent, leaving Marge alone with her thoughts.
If he were just choosing instead of planning out all these silly competitions, she’d feel a couple of points up on her chief competitor, boosted ahead by Audrey’s lies. But no, she needed Lady Luck for a best friend. Lies obviously didn’t bother W. G. Preston so much, and that wasn’t right.
What awaited her that evening soon eclipsed any juggling for position or Preston’s games. Stephanie had accepted her invitation for a fancy dinner, and her daughter would be like a pit bull to find out exactly what was going on in East Texas. But, in spite of everything, Marge looked forward to seeing her.
Soon the Dallas skyline appeared, and she took to planning her day. She had so many things she wanted to buy him, and knew the exact place to start. “Anyone want to share a cab to the Galleria?”
Vicki nodded. “Good idea. I’ll go with.”
Marge looked around the car, but no one else showed much interest.
Holly spoke up. “Natalie and I decided to start at the West End, but we’re not going until three when all the soaps are over. I mean we’ve got two days to shop.” She shivered with giddiness. “Wish Charlotte was here to watch them with us. I probably won’t even recognize anyone I’m so far behind.”
Audrey remained noncommittal.
At exactly one hour and twenty-two minutes after the car pulled off Preston’s land and onto the farm-to-market, it eased into the circle drive of the Mansion on Turtle Creek. Marge had heard so many stories about the supposed ultimate in posh, but never in a million years dreamed she’d be spending two nights and experiencing The Mansion as a guest.
Sharing a cab to North Dallas ended Marge and Vicki’s time together. The power walking young thing couldn’t get away fast enough, but Marge didn’t really mind. With so much serious shopping to do, she didn’t want to have to keep up or be bogged down either. By a little after three, she returned to her room loaded with sacks and bags.
Some quick calculating showed her she still had lots to spend as her purchases so far only added up to eight hundred forty-seven dollars and nineteen cents. Plus the hundred cash she’d gotten from the ATM, of which she still had sixty-three and some change.
She hated keeping track but understood his need to know. Not that she agreed with him. In the end though, it was his money, and she didn’t really have any right to question the man or his methods. Oh well, she still did whether it was her place or not. He shouldn’t get to make all the rules just because he had so much money.
Oh dear. She rubbed her temples. He made her crazy. But could she live the rest of her life without him being a part of it? She never in a million years would have thought so many emotions would have been stirred up and tried to think what she would do. What if this was her month to pack up and leave?
How would she spend her remaining days? She didn’t want to go back to her old life, but couldn’t think of what else there would be without those early mornings with Preston, picnics with Preston, and Scrabble games with him. He was a decent speller for a man. Yes, she was going crazy, like a teenaged girl fretting over her first puppy love.
A thought hit her out of the blue like a foul ball. What would Walter think of the man? Hmm, she hated to think she hadn’t thought of Walter lately, but decided right away he would like Preston. She frowned, somewhat uncomfortable over not thinking of him sooner, but her heart smiled. He’d be happy she found such a good fellow.
Yeah, but finding and keeping were two different tricks. She might buy all the wrong things or go to the wrong places. Oh dear. She propped up a pile of pillows and turned Fox News on. Far as she was concerned, no one on the tube compared with O’Reilly. She and Walter loved The Factor.
When the time to meet Stephanie rolled around, the only thing for certain was that it had been a spell since breakfast, and Marge was hungry. She hoped her inquisitive daughter wouldn’t spoil their evening with all her questions.
Stephanie arrived right on time, and as promised, the maitre d’ led them to their table at exactly seven forty-five. Once seated, her only daughter scanned the menu. “Mother, please. How can you afford this? These prices are ridiculous.” She looked around the room. “And you’re staying at this hotel?”
“Don’t worry about it. I have an expense account.”
Stephanie shook her head. “Doesn’t make sense, Mother. It’s totally bizarre that you can’t come home to visit, or that we can’t even pay for a room and come to see you at this supposed Bed and Breakfast you’re supposedly working at. When did a B&B ever not rent rooms?”
“When he hired me, all the rooms were full, honey, and we’re not taking any reservations. It isn’t open to the public yet.”
“Oh, yeah, right, those two statements really go great together, Mom.”
“Mister Preston has had guests, dear.”
“Then all of the sudden, you’re staying at the Mansion and want to treat me to dinner. Totally bizarre.”
“That isn’t the right word, Stephie. Do you have to be so dramatic? Unusual maybe, I’ll admit to that, but certainly not bizarre.”
The girl started to retort, but the waiter arrived. Once she ordered, Marge held her of
f by asking a string of questions about the kids and her son-in-law. She nursed those topics until the dinner salads arrived, but they provided only a temporary reprieve from the inquiring mind that wanted to know.
Stephanie sipped her wine then pointed her finger. “Mama, I want you to come home with me tonight.”
“What?” Her request took Marge by surprise. “I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t do that, wouldn’t even consider it at this point. I’ve got an incredibly busy day tomorrow.”
“Doing what?”
“Seeing to my employer’s business.”
“Which is…?” Stephanie waved her hand as if to coax an answer.
“Can’t say.”
“Why in the world not?”
“I signed a piece of paper and promised I wouldn’t. I gave my word, so that’s the end of that discussion.”
“No, it isn’t. It can’t be. This isn’t you.”
“Oh, Stephanie, come on. Lighten up. Please don’t spoil our lovely dinner together.” Marge drained her wine glass then nodded toward the waiter. “And why do you say it isn’t me?” As the man approached, Marge gestured. “Another, please.”
“Mother, you need to come home—to stay. I don’t like you being so far away and not knowing what’s going on.”
“Look, my darling daughter who I love with all my heart.” The waiter refilled their glasses then retired discreetly. “I’m not doing anything illegal or immoral. I’m a grown woman and you have no cause to worry over me. Hopefully, someday I can tell you all about it, but I’m determined to see this through.”
“But why, Mother?”
“Because. I owe it to myself.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Journal entry - May 31st
Justice delayed is justice denied. She who tried to win by the sword lost because she wanted to go clubbing in Deep Ellum
