Dymphna realized her mind had wandered. “So sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Where was I? Does anyone remember?”
“We all remember,” Erinn said. “You said, ‘He left us a town.’”
“He said that he wanted us to have the opportunity to make something of ourselves, so he left us a ghost town in Texas.”
“How are you supposed to make something of yourself in a ghost town?” Suzanna asked. “It’s already a loser town, right? Everybody already left.”
“I don’t really have all the answers,” Dymphna said. “He did say that he wanted us to realize our potential—and the potential of this town in Texas. It’s apparently been abandoned for years, but it has running water and electricity. He said that if we all go—and we all have to go—and make a success of the town in six months, he would give us each three years’ wages.”
“Three years’ wages?” Suzanna asked.
Dymphna said, “But Mr. Tensaw said that if our total earnings over three years didn’t equal $100,000, then we’d be guaranteed that!”
“Did he specify what kind of success?” Virginia asked.
“Not exactly.” Dymphna shook her head. “At the end of the day, we’re getting the money whether we make anything of the place or not. I guess he figures if we’re stuck there for six months, we might as well give it a shot.”
“That’s taking a lot for granted,” Suzanna said.
“I can’t believe he thinks he can dictate a crazy scheme like this and expect it to work!” Erinn said. “Although he doesn’t have anything to lose at this point.” At her mother’s disapproving look, Erinn added, “What? Too soon?”
“Where in Texas is this place?” Suzanna asked, changing gears.
“It’s someplace in the Texas Hill Country,” Dymphna said. “I don’t really know.”
“Does this place have a name?” asked Virginia.
“Yes,” Dymphna said. “It’s called Fat Chance.”
“Apt,” Erinn said.
“Fat Chance is better than No Chance, I guess,” Suzanna said, popping a lemon jelly bean.
“Although, frankly, Dymphna,” Virginia went on, “you’ve already made something of yourself. You don’t need to live up to some billionaire’s idea of success.”
“Thank you,” Dymphna said, blushing. “But, you know, all those other people are counting on me. If I don’t go, they don’t get a chance to get their money.”
“You just met these people,” Suzanna said. “You need to decide what’s right for you.”
“I know,” Dymphna said. “But we’ve been given a week to decide and I’m the only one on the fence.”
“You’re kidding,” Erinn said. “I can’t believe that Cleo is going to spend six months gentrifying a ghost town in Texas.”
“I can believe it,” Suzanna said. “If she isn’t going to get her money unless she sees this through, you can bet she’ll go.”
“You don’t even know her,” Dymphna said, giggling.
“I know her type,” Suzanna said.
“You do not know her type,” Erinn protested. “How many billionaire heiresses do you know personally?”
Suzanna scowled at her sister.
“If you feel loyalty to the group, which I think is admirable of you,” Virginia said, “what are your reservations?”
“I wouldn’t be able to bring the rabbits right away,” Dymphna said, her eyes tearing up. “I would have to make sure the place was safe for them. Texas is hot. I’d have to scout the place and make sure I can keep them comfortable. And I can’t leave them here.”
“Of course you can leave them here,” Virginia said.
“That wouldn’t be fair to Erinn,” Dymphna said, reading the panic in Erinn’s eyes. “They need tons of attention. I can’t leave her to take care of six rabbits.”
“Oh, I know how to take care of them,” Virginia said. “You taught me how to feed them, shear them, and make the yarn! I know their schedule. They’ll be fine! I promise.”
“But, Mom,” Erinn said, “you live here and the rabbits are at my place.”
“Actually, that’s even better,” Virginia said. “I mean, Dymphna, it’s certainly up to you, but it’s going to get a little crowded upstairs at Suzanna and Eric’s.”
“Aren’t you happy with us, Mom?” Suzanna asked.
“Of course, honey,” Virginia said. “But Lizzy’s almost four years old. And with the new baby coming, this would be a perfect time for me to leave.” She turned to Dymphna. “I could actually move into the guesthouse. Then I’d be with the rabbits. It’s a win-win. Unless, of course, Erinn doesn’t want me to move in.”
“Don’t be silly, Mother,” Erinn said.
Dymphna couldn’t tell if Erinn was onboard with her mother living in her backyard or not. But there were other issues looming, so she laid them out. “But what about the podcast? What would we do about that?”
“Actually,” Erinn said, “I was going to tell you tonight. We need to give the podcast a little break. I got a job on a new series—and I have to take it. Money is getting a little tight.”
“If I get three years’ salary, we’d have a nice nest egg,” Dymphna said. “I could come back in six months with all that money and live in your backyard forever.”
“If you have a nest egg, you probably won’t want to live in my sister’s backyard,” Suzanna said.
“Yes, I would,” Dymphna said. “I really would. I love you guys.”
Suzanna and Virginia leapt up and smothered Dymphna in hugs, tears, kisses, and we-love-you-toos. Erinn, who was embarrassed by displays of emotion, started tapping at her phone.
“You need to do this,” Virginia said, through tears. “You would have enough money to buy land for rabbits or llamas or goats or sheep and really have the life you deserve.”
“We’ll watch over the rabbits as if they were our own!” Suzanna added.
“Okay.” Dymphna sniffled. “If you guys believe in me, I’ll go.”
“We do,” Virginia said, kissing Dymphna on top of her head.
When the women finally finished their declarations of love and loyalty, Erinn looked up from her phone and said, “Did you know that ‘Texas’ comes from the Hasini Indian word tejas? It means friends.”
“Perfect,” Dymphna said. “’Cause I’m going to need all the tejas I can get.”
CHAPTER 6
Cleo’s massive bed was barely visible under the dunes of clothes. Arms crossed, she surveyed her selection.
What does one bring to a ghost town in Texas?
She picked up her white mink coat and tossed it onto a Louis XVI bench. She’d always loved the elegant styling of the bench and now felt in solidarity with the misunderstood and beheaded king for whom it was named.
It was over a hundred degrees in the Texas Hill Country right now. Even at the end of her sentence in February, she was never going to need a mink. Following this logic, she also discarded a gray chinchilla jacket and a rich brown sable. She had never really needed furs in Los Angeles, but trips to cooler climates offered excuses to show them off. She thought perhaps she’d find a more appreciative audience in Texas, but Jeffries had looked on the Internet for what sort of weather she would encounter. The furs had to stay home.
She picked up her favorite coat—a vibrant full-length red fox fur. She wrapped her arms around it—she just couldn’t leave it here. At the very least, she’d use it as a throw on her sofa.
Will I even have a sofa?
She put the fox coat back on the bed—it was coming with her. The clothes looked like the ingredients of one of the salads she ordered at the Cheesecake Factory. The more you ate, the more lettuce seemed to be left. She sighed and went to the mountain of shoes she’d selected. She picked up a pair of strappy sandals with Lucite heels. She was studying them when she heard a whisper of a knock on the bedroom door.
That new maid needs to be more assertive!
“Come in, Gilda,” Cleo said, adding the Lucite heel
s to the Louis XVI bench.
“That’s Hilda, ma’am,” Hilda said, chewing on her thumbnail as she entered. “Mr. Tensaw is downstairs. He said he’d like to have a word with you before you leave tomorrow morning.”
“I have a telephone,” Cleo said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Hilda said. “Would you like me to tell him that?”
“No, that’s all right, Glinda. Tell him to come up.”
“I’m already here,” Wesley said, lounging in the doorway.
Cleo heard the new maid gasp—probably fearful she’d be reprimanded because Wesley hadn’t stayed downstairs until summoned. Wesley looked annoyingly sure of himself perched in the doorway like that. He certainly seemed to be enjoying himself as this little family drama played out.
“Thank you, Heidi,” Cleo said. “You may go.”
“It’s Hilda,” Wesley and the maid said at the same time.
Cleo saw the maid shoot Wesley a grateful smile. She also saw Wesley cast an appreciative glance at Hilda’s departing rear end as the maid scooted out of sight.
He’s old enough to be her father! But certainly hot enough to turn a girl’s head.
“Ten million dollars for your thoughts,” Wesley said, with that crooked smile that made Cleo want to slap him.
He walked into the room, tossed aside the fur coats, and sat on the bench.
“I’m not speaking to you,” Cleo said. “That was a dirty trick inviting my ex without telling me.”
“I’m still following your father’s orders, Cleo,” Wesley said. “Believe me, I’m doing the best I can for you.”
“I hadn’t seen him for years,” Cleo said. “I didn’t even know where he lived!”
“Portland, Oregon,” Wesley said.
“You know, Daddy said I should never have married him,” Cleo said. “An older man, a Vietnam vet. Too many strikes against him.”
“I wasn’t aware serving our country would be held against a man,” Wesley said.
“He just would never settle down,” Cleo said. “At least he didn’t settle down as long as I knew him. Do you know what he’s doing now?”
“He’s a carpenter.”
“See? Daddy was right. He didn’t amount to anything.”
“Carpentry is a respectable profession,” Wesley said. “Just ask Jesus.”
“Very funny,” Cleo said, picking up a pair of designer jeans. She held them out for his inspection. “Should I bring these? Texas means horses, right?”
Wesley nodded. “I’m only going to be a phone call away,” he said. “You know that.”
“If there’s a phone!”
“I don’t think your father is sending you back to the nineteenth century, Cleo,” he said.
“Why is he sending me at all?” Cleo sank down on the bed, displacing four pairs of evening pumps, which clattered to the floor.
“People get funny ideas when they’re dying,” Wesley said. “I think your father had deep, deep regrets about a lot of things—and throwing money at those regrets wasn’t going to work.”
“Right,” Cleo said. “So withholding all the money is going to make everything all right, is that it?”
“I couldn’t say,” Wesley said. “But you’ve got to see this through, whether you like it or not.”
“But it’s a ghost town! Jeffries says it’s not even on Google Maps!”
“I know,” Wesley said. “I’ve printed directions on how to get there.”
“But there are eight of us! Where are we going to live? How are we going to shop? Can I get my nails done? There are a lot of questions.”
“I’m pretty sure your father anticipated all of them,” Wesley said. “And while I can’t speak for him, I’m going to guess that, no, you aren’t going to be able to get your nails done.”
Cleo blinked back tears.
“You’ve just got to make the best of it,” Wesley continued. “Be a good sport.”
“A good sport? Have you met me?”
Wesley surveyed the pile of clothes. “You’re not going to be able to fit all that in the RV, you know.”
“Oh, you think I’m going to get in an RV?”
“It’s one of the terms,” Wesley said. “Your father chartered a private RV and it will take you all, in absolute comfort, to Fat Chance.”
“There is nothing private about traveling in a bus with seven other people,” Cleo said. “I’m taking our plane.”
“One, it’s not your plane—yet,” he said. “Two, you seem to forget you have no money. How are you going to pay the pilot or buy the fuel?”
Cleo collapsed backward onto the bed, stabbing herself in the head with a stiletto heel. She hurled the shoe across the room. Sitting back up, she glared at Wesley.
“I could sue you,” she said.
“No, you couldn’t,” Wesley said, chuckling. “You don’t think that’s the first thing your father locked down? And even if you tried, your money would still be tied up until this is over. Why not take the Martha Stewart approach? Just do the time and get on with it.”
“That would make your life easier, wouldn’t it?” she said.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Wesley said. “Here’s a debit card. It has five thousand dollars on it.”
“Five thousand dollars?” she asked, staring at the plastic card Wesley put in her hand.
“For incidentals,” Wesley said. “And you should be very pleased. Your father is only giving the others a thousand dollars each.”
Cleo started packing, furiously. “Thank God for credit cards,” she said.
“Your credit cards are canceled,” Wesley said.
Cleo froze. Maybe Wesley was right. She should just do her time and get it behind her. There was no way she could outsmart or out-think Cutthroat Clarence.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked Wesley.
“In my weaker moments.”
“What about my staff?” Cleo asked, changing gears. “What are my secretary, driver, butler, pool boy, and all the other people who run this house supposed to do?”
“Your father has made provisions,” Wesley said. “You worry about you.”
By morning, Jeffries had loaded the town car with seven suitcases and a garment bag. Cleo was exhausted, and the strain of the recent week was showing in the bags under her eyes. She did the best she could to reduce the swelling with cool teabags—there was no time or money for a facial. Jeffries came out of the house carrying a small, inexpensive bag.
“Are you ready to go, Jeffries?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am all packed.” Jeffries held the small suitcase aloft. “The GPS should get us as far as Austin and I have directions from there. Mr. Tensaw gave me all the confirmation numbers and addresses for our accommodations. We are all squared away.”
He slid his suitcase into the front passenger seat—there was not an inch of space in the trunk—and climbed into the driver’s seat. Cleo climbed into the back. She told Jeffries that she needed him to drive her to Texas. If her father wanted her to economize, fine. She wouldn’t fly. Besides, she’d need a car and a driver in a godforsaken ghost town. She hoped it hadn’t occurred to Jeffries that she was kidnapping him. She’d make it up to him when she got her money. Besides, he was a loyal family servant. He would want to help. As they pulled out of the driveway, she looked at him in the rearview mirror, where she could see only his eyes—focused on the road ahead. She wondered if perhaps she should have just asked him.
CHAPTER 7
Dymphna waited outside Erinn’s wooden front gate, having said good-bye to her rabbits and surrogate family. She insisted on meeting the RV by herself—she didn’t say so, but she wasn’t sure she’d have the resolve to board if any of her loved ones were around. She knew this was an opportunity to get enough capital to finance the life she wanted for her rabbits, but she was not entirely convinced that Cutthroat Clarence actually owed her anything. While she didn’t actually believe that all was fair in love and war, Dymphna suspected that Clare
nce Johnson hadn’t been the total black-hearted opportunist he painted himself to be. Erinn’s exhaustive research—and a touch of her own—revealed a more complex man. He gave billions to charity. He’d made some terrible mistakes, but he’d attempted to rectify them—albeit at the last minute. Erinn thought it was a bid for redemption, a deal with God. Dymphna thought it revealed a good soul . . . even if it was one that had been buried deep within the businessman. She liked the idea that she would have to earn this prize. If Cutthroat had just written her a check, she wasn’t sure she could have accepted it.
The black-and-tan RV stopped inches from the curb. It loomed over her; she had never seen an RV this size. The door swung open. Dymphna lifted her battered carpetbag onto the step. The driver reached for it.
“I’ll keep it with me,” she said. “It has my knitting.”
She was a little too nervous about the future to actually feel anything like a genuine smile, but she attempted one anyway. After all, it wasn’t the driver’s fault she was on her way to a ghost town in Texas for six months.
Dymphna climbed aboard and the door made a soft hissing sound behind her as it closed. She was the first one aboard. She looked around, stunned at the opulence of the interior. The door to the RV was behind the front passenger’s captain’s chair. The front of the RV looked like a futuristic spacecraft, with more buttons and levers than she could imagine operating while still keeping a vehicle on the road. To her left, there was a kitchen, a desk, a flat-screen TV, a dining area with a built-in wet bar and china cabinet, several built-in couches, and two more captain’s chairs behind the driver’s and front passenger’s seats. There was also a hallway, but Dymphna didn’t think she should go exploring just yet.
She looked back at the driver, who had stowed her bag . . . somewhere. . . and was climbing back into his seat. She didn’t want to appear haughty or rude, so she scrambled into the seat next to him.
As she reached for the seat belt, the driver said, “Can’t sit up here, miss. Against policy. Please make yourself comfortable in the back.”
Welcome to Fat Chance, Texas Page 5
