Evening Hours

by Mary Lynn Baxter

  Her lower lip shook. “No more. I promise.”

  “I hope not. Get your clothes on and get out.”

  She scrambled off the bed and within ten minutes was gone, leaving him to ready himself for a long and hopefully profitable day. While he’d had a good time with Jill, he didn’t care if he ever saw her again.

  His stable was too full of women to ride the same horse more than once. Variety was what kept him young and pumped, despite his sixty-plus years. He didn’t feel old, and he never wanted to act it. He didn’t have to use Viagra, a fact that made him feel like a real stud since so many of his cronies talked about using the drug. They bragged about how wonderful it was, but Drew just saw it as a weakness that was abhorrent.

  He had it made with women, just as he did in every other aspect of his life. He was one fortunate bastard who had no one to thank but himself.

  Drew was still patting himself on the back when he entered his office some thirty minutes later. Edgar Benton was waiting for him.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Edgar’s normally pale face showed no reaction. “Not long. Just thought I’d hang around to see if you have some last-minute instructions.”

  “I think we covered everything yesterday,” Drew replied in a slightly irritated tone.

  A flush replaced Edgar’s paleness as if he realized he’d goofed. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure I covered all the basics.”

  “I want to see you the minute you get back.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “You got that right.”

  The color in Edgar’s face deepened, but he didn’t reply. Drew wondered what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter. Edgar could roll with any punch he was dealt, which was to his credit.

  Drew looked at his longtime employee, thinking Edgar appeared much older than his fifty-eight years with his thinning dark hair, his slightly stooped shoulders and tobacco-stained teeth from long years of smoking. Even though he no long indulged in those stank sticks, his teeth would never recover.

  “How’s our girl?” Drew asked when Edgar still didn’t show any signs of leaving.

  “Real good.” Edgar smiled, eliminating the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that was visible even through the thick lenses of his glasses. The same sadness was usually mirrored in Kaylee’s eyes.

  “That was a hell of a party the chamber threw for her the other night,” Drew said. “She more than deserved it.”

  Edgar’s smile grew. “You bet she did. I appreciate your coming. That meant a lot to her and to me.”

  “What made you think I wouldn’t?”

  “With your schedule, who knows?”

  Drew snorted. “I’m not too busy for my godchild.”

  “I’ll never be able to repay you for your kindness to her.”

  “Yeah, you will. Just continue to be loyal to me, no matter what.”

  Edgar looked disconcerted. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll never let you down.”

  “Good. I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Edgar nodded, then ambled out the door.

  Drew pushed back in his chair and stared out the window of his top-floor complex in southwest Houston. He had purchased this high-rise office complex, which was within spitting distance of the Galleria, right after he made his first million, and the building had since tripled in value. He could’ve sold it and made several more million on that deal alone. But he had no intention of ever dumping this property.

  Sitting atop this building and having his office cover the entire top floor made him feel important, made him forget his humble beginnings and the bitter fact that he had grown up with none of life’s amenities, thanks to a mother who whored for a living.

  AIDS ended up killing her—her just deserts, he’d told himself without guilt. As for his father, he had no idea who he was, and he didn’t care. He’d been on his own since he was ten years old, and he’d done just fine.

  He was a rich man. He could go, do and buy anything he wanted. And he wanted a lot. If someone told him he couldn’t have anything on his “wish list,” he got it somehow.

  If the word no had been part of his vocabulary he wouldn’t own a thriving corporation or command the respect he did now. He might not have a pedigree, but he had money, and that went a long way in his society.

  A confident chuckle erupted from his lips as a feeling of power surged through him. Yep, he was sitting atop the world, staring down at the poor blokes below.

  “You must’ve gotten some good nooky last night.”

  Drew grinned as he motioned for his closest business adviser to enter. Glen Yates was a big man, in stature and weight, with a bushy gray mustache that hid his upper lip. If Drew trusted anyone, which he didn’t, it would be Glen. Like Edgar, he was always at his beck and call and eager to please.

  But then, he paid his lackeys well. Hence, they were loyal and behaved in a servile manner.

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” Drew said at last, shoving his feet off the desk and swinging around in his chair.

  Glen’s mustache grew with his grin. “Can’t beat it.”

  “You ought to try it sometime.”

  “Who says I don’t?”

  Drew shrugged, suddenly tired of this inane conversation. He made it a point never to let anyone penetrate his hard shell and glimpse what lurked underneath. To do so would make him vulnerable, make him susceptible to emotions he didn’t want to feel. His motto was screw before getting screwed. He’d lived and prospered by that code for too long now to change.

  “What’s on tap for today?” Glen asked, breaking the silence.

  “I’ve sent Edgar after the files on the Magnolia Creosote Plant.”

  “Ah, so you are going after them?”

  “You don’t think that’s a smart move?” Drew didn’t really care what Glen thought; he’d already made up his mind. Yet it was advantageous to know what someone else was thinking. Different opinions often came in handy.

  Glen pulled on his mustache. “I didn’t say that, boss. You told me yourself they’re pretty solvent.”

  “Not so solvent they can withstand a smear campaign.”

  Especially not from him. Gobbling up small, floundering companies was how he’d made his millions. The fact that he’d ruined their good names beforehand didn’t enter into the equation. He chalked that up to sound business practices.

  Glen’s face crinkled in a grin. “That company would definitely be a feather in your cap, if you can get it, that is.”

  “Do you doubt my ability?” Drew’s tone was hard.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “When Edgar gets back with the information, I want you two to get together and give me the bottom line particulars. We’ll proceed as usual. I’ll devise the plan, then give you the green light to go forward.”

  “I have some info on the paper mill deal.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. I like those who try to make me happy.”

  “The family is going at it tooth and nail.”

  “Ah, now that is good news,” Drew said, his juices starting to flow as vigorously as they had this morning when he’d humped Jill. “I take it my offer has them divided.”

  “Yep. They’re squabbling like hounds over a bone.”

  “If they don’t take my dirt-cheap offer,” Drew said, “then I’m going for the jugular by putting the EPA on them for dumping waste. When I plan my exact strategy, I’ll keep their backbiting in mind,” he added, his anticipation growing with each second.

  “Meanwhile, I’ll keep working on our present takeovers.”

  “No problems so far with this latest group, right?”

  “Right.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Drew turned his attention to the buzz from his secretary.

  “Sir, Miss Benton’s on line one.”

  He reached for the phone. “Kaylee, my dear, good morning.”

  “I don�
�t know what I’m going to do with you,” she said, coming directly to the point, an asset he admired.

  He chuckled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “No, really, I’m serious.”

  Silence reigned for a moment, during which he could sense her concentration. “I wish I could believe you. But since I don’t, I thank you.” She paused. “One more time.”

  “Okay, thank me,” he said with another chuckle. “But again, I can’t take the credit.”

  “You didn’t send me this huge bouquet of flowers?”

  He heard the surprise in her voice, and for a moment rage filled Drew, not because she’d received the flowers, but because he hadn’t sent them. He rarely ever made a mistake like that. Following her honor, he should have sent her a congratulatory bouquet.

  If he had a soft spot in that hard core of his, it was for Kaylee. He’d never had the nesting urge. A home and family were responsibilities he hadn’t wanted. He was much too self-absorbed for that. But if he had wanted a daughter, he would want her to be just like Kaylee.

  He had known her since she was a youngster, had met her right after Edgar started working for him. She had captivated him then and still did. He would do anything for her.

  As long as she adhered to and played by his rules, that is.

  To date she had, and he didn’t see that ever changing. She was indebted to him in more ways than one and he aimed to make sure that didn’t change.

  “No, honey, I didn’t.”

  “But…” Her voice faded.

  “Sounds to me like you’ve got an admirer?”

  “Perhaps Daddy…” Again her voice faded.

  Drew knew better than that, and apparently so did she. Sending flowers to his daughter on any occasion would never have occurred to Edgar. His mind simply didn’t work that way, even though he adored the ground Kaylee walked on.

  “Well, anyway,” she said, filling the silence, “they’re absolutely breathtaking.”

  “And well deserved, my dear.”

  “Thanks, Drew. But I was so sure they came from you.”

  “You holding out on me, sweetheart?”

  She laughed. “I have no idea who sent them, but it’s no secret admirer, for sure.”

  “I guess that remains to be seen.”

  “Look, when are we going to have lunch together?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.

  “I’ll call you in a day or so, and we’ll set it up. Meanwhile, enjoy your flowers. And enjoy the fact that I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Drew. I wouldn’t be where I am without you.”

  He certainly didn’t want her ever to forget that. “Be sweet.” With that he hung up and stared into space. He didn’t know if he was happy with the thought of Kaylee having a secret admirer or not.

  Somehow, he didn’t think so.

  Seven

  “Have you called 911, Dad?”

  Trevor McFarland walked quickly toward Cutler, a pained expression on his face. “No, but I did call the doctor.”

  Cutler was definitely his mother’s son, having none of his dad’s physical characteristics. Trevor was shorter than both him and Mary by several inches. He wore his light hair in a flattop. His skin was weathered from having spent years in the sun as a building contractor, even though he was now semiretired.

  Father and son weren’t alike in personalities either. Trevor was far more sober, except when he laughed. Then his pleasure came from deep in his belly, and in that, he and Cutler were alike. Trevor adored Mary and Cutler had always thought they had a good, solid marriage.

  Having them as an example, he often wondered why he couldn’t make a similar commitment.

  “What did he say?” Cutler asked with impatience when Trevor didn’t convey anything more.

  “Only that he’s on his way.”

  Cutler quickly went to his mother’s bedside and stared down at her. Fear wrapped its tentacles around his heart. Was she breathing? For a second he couldn’t move. When he saw her chest rise and fall relief assailed him.

  “She’s asleep, son.”

  Cutler faced Trevor. “What happened?”

  “Same thing. She just had a dizzy spell and passed out.”

  “Those ‘spells’ are happening far too often.”

  “I know.”

  “Steven needs to do something,” Cutler said more to himself than to his dad.

  Steven Hughes was not only Mary’s physician but a member of her church and a longtime friend. Mary trusted him without hesitation. Although he had a reputation for being a crackerjack heart specialist, Cutler had urged Mary to seek a second opinion, something that hadn’t gone over well in the McFarland household. To date, Mary had opted not to take his advice.

  Maybe now that would change.

  “Steven didn’t think the hospital was necessary,” Trevor said. “I…we have to trust he knows best.”

  Cutler was about to disagree, but knew now was not the time. Whether or not his mother sought a second opinion was not Trevor’s choice. He released a sigh and said, “One of these days she’s going to fall and break something.”

  “I know.” Trevor’s eyes remained troubled. “But you know how stubborn she is. Or at least you should. You inherited the same trait.”

  Cutler ignored that latter comment, and continued to watch his mother. Where the hell was the doctor? He couldn’t believe she wasn’t on her way to the E.R., but for now he had no choice but to trust the doctor.

  “Since you’re with her, I’m going downstairs and wait for Steven.”

  Cutler nodded, easing into the chair that Trevor had pulled up to the bed. Though he was wired to the max, Cutler forced himself to remain seated. Reaching out, he took his mother’s hand in his and held it, feeling his heart constrict.

  She had to pull through. The alternative was not even a consideration. Mary had always been and would always be his best friend and ally. Even though he had a good relationship with his dad, his mother was the mainstay in his life. He couldn’t conceive of her not being there for him.

  Under the circumstances, however, he realized that kind of thinking was unrealistic. She had been diagnosed with a weak heart muscle that surgery could not correct. Only medication would help, and she already took plenty of that.

  From the outset, Dr. Hughes had told them that Mary could live to be an old woman or she could die at any moment. If she took care of herself, he’d added, her chances of survival were much better, of course.

  Cutler almost snorted out loud at the thought of his mother taking care of herself. She took care of others. She was a pastor of a fairly large community church, and her entire existence centered around helping others. That was what made her the special person she was.

  Yet that devotion to her fellow man could very well bring about her demise, which grieved him because he didn’t see her ever changing. Mary appeared to be the picture of health. A tall woman, rawboned in stature with a flair for the dramatic, she carried herself as though she was proud of her height.

  He had her blue eyes and her hair.

  She wasn’t pretty; like his, her features were too strong for that. Yet she was never ignored in a crowd because of her powerful presence.

  “Mom, can you hear me?”

  Cutler held her hand tighter when she didn’t respond. That’s when he felt a gentle squeeze, though she still didn’t open her eyes. But she knew he was there and that was what counted.

  “Mom, you gotta stop pulling these stunts,” he said. “I can’t have you lying in bed, especially not in an election year.”

  Suddenly Mary’s eyes popped open and she gave him a weak smile. “You selfish brat, you.”

  He laughed outright, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been beaten with a wet rope. Other than that I feel just fine.”

  “Sure you do.”

  Ma
ry struggled to sit up.

  He clamped a hand on her arm. “Whoa, let’s not get too feisty.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Mom, you passed out.”

  An irritated look crossed her face. “Well, I’m okay now.”

  “Did anyone ever tell you what a stubborn broad you are?”

  Mary slapped him on the hand. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.”

  They both grinned, then he leaned over and gave her a hug as he eased her back down on the bed. “Stay put. Steven is on his way.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I don’t need him.”

  “Really? You can’t keep on like this. Something’s gotta give.”

  “If you’ll help me sit up…”

  Cutler shook his head. “Help? If I have to assist you, then you’re far from okay.”

  “Get out of the way, then, and I’ll get up on my own.”

  “One of these days—”

  Ignoring him, she struggled upright, then gave him a triumphant look. “Goes to show you can’t keep a good woman down.”

  Cutler turned as the doctor, followed by his father, made their way into the room. Steven was of medium height with red curly hair and a ruddy complexion.

  Moving aside, Cutler let Steven have access to his mother, but watched ever so carefully while he examined her.

  “Bottom line?” Cutler asked without preamble once Steven had stepped away from the bed.

  “She’s been overdoing it.”

  All eyes riveted on Mary, who looked both irritated and unrepentant.

  Cutler would cheerfully have throttled her if it would have done any good. “How ’bout we chain her to the bed, Doc?” he said, staring at his mother through narrowed eyes.

  Mary swung onto the side of the bed. “Just because you’re grown, young man, doesn’t mean you can back talk your mother.”

  Cutler spread his hands, then stared pointedly at the doctor.

  Steven didn’t shuck his responsibility. “Mary, I’m not going to preach to you. I’m going to leave that to you.” He smiled.

  Mary gave him one of her looks.