Kentucky Sunrise

by Fern Michaels

  Fanny was right, it was a dump. The linoleum on the floor was cracked and peeling. The tables were lopsided with red-checkered oilcloth on top. The windows were fly-specked with greasy green shades. The chairs were battered and ragged-looking, but the aroma from the kitchen made it all worthwhile.

  Nealy felt a presence, heard the snick of the lock going into place and the snap of the green window shade being pulled to the bottom of the door. She felt as if she were taking part in a cloak-and-dagger movie. When she saw Fanny fold her hands in her lap, she did the same thing.

  A fat little man in a snow-white apron set down a basket of warm, crusty bread. He returned a second later with two bowls of chicken soup. Fanny picked up her spoon. Nealy followed suit. “This is delicious,” she beamed. “This bread tastes like the bread Maud’s old housekeeper used to bake every Tuesday. The butter is fresh-churned. Ohhh, this is just so good.”

  “When we leave, they’ll give us some to take with us.” Fanny fiddled with her spoon and finally placed it on the plate next to her soup bowl.

  He was young, maybe Nick’s age, and he was movie-star handsome. His suit was crafted by an excellent tailor and probably came from Savile Row. Nealy recognized the cut because that’s where Hatch got his suits. Suits that cost a fortune. His shoes were just as expensive. The Rolex gleamed on his wrist.

  “Mrs. Reed, it’s nice to see you again. Are you enjoying the soup?”

  “Very much,” Fanny said breathlessly. “This is Nealy Clay Littletree.”

  Nealy didn’t stop to think. Her hand shot forward. The young man grasped it.

  “It’s an honor and a privilege to meet you, ma’am. I watched you race. The oddsmakers on the street will love you forever.”

  Fanny had instructed her not to speak, so she nodded.

  “Mr. Lucinelli asked me to tell you he’s looking into the matter, Mrs. Reed. He also asked me to give you this,” the young man said, withdrawing a white envelope from the breast pocket inside his well-cut jacket. He turned his attention to Nealy. “We hope your daughter has a speedy recovery. It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Reed.” He snapped his fingers. A moment later two paper sacks appeared on the table. And then he was gone.

  “Our to-go order,” Fanny said, getting up.

  Outside in the warm summer air, Nealy said, “Fanny, what the hell was that all about? Was that man a gangster? What . . . how . . . I think we should talk, Fanny.”

  “Can’t you walk any faster, Nealy?” Fanny fretted.

  Ten minutes later, in the Harem Bar, Fanny signaled the waiter. “I’ll have a double scotch on the rocks, and Nealy will have a double shot of Wild Turkey straight up.”

  Nealy did exactly what Fanny did. She gulped at the whiskey and downed it in two swallows. Both women wiped at their eyes with the bite of the whiskey.

  Nealy eyed the two paper sacks on the table. “Are we supposed to eat this?”

  “I always throw it away. I can never eat after I go there.”

  “Exactly why did we go there, Fanny? I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I called . . . the number. I asked them if they would find out who killed Junior Belez. They know everything. Sometimes I think they know about things before they actually happen. He knew about your daughter. She just got here last night. They made millions off your races, Nealy. Not small millions. Big millions.” Fanny signaled the waiter and held up her glass. “Their . . . their code says they have to return the favor.”

  “I didn’t think you were the type to associate with gangsters, Fanny,” Nealy said as she slugged at the bourbon in her glass.

  “Shhhh. Don’t ever use that word around here, Nealy. They’re legitimate businessmen. They have their own codes. They . . . they . . . always took care of me. Ash was forever getting himself into one mess or another. They helped me bail him out. In turn I made them respectable. I go to their casinos, have dinner, play a little blackjack, and then I go home. I never . . . I never call that number unless . . . unless it’s crucial. I thought . . . think the situation with Willow warranted a phone call. I don’t want to see Nick get mired down in something he has no control over. They made money off you, Nealy. Like I said, their code says they have to return the ‘favor’ for want of a better word. Everyone in Vegas knows . . . knew Junior Belez. Tonight we have to go across the street to dinner. That makes it all official. It’s an experience, Nealy. My goodness, our glasses are empty. Bring the bottles,” she said to the waiter. Nealy blinked when the waiter set down a bottle of Chivas Regal and one of Wild Turkey.

  Fanny slopped liquor into her glass. Nealy did the same. “This might be a triple,” she said, eyeing the contents.

  “Do you care? I don’t care. Drink up. All we have to do is take the private elevator to the penthouse. It’s not like we’re going to be staggering around where people can see us. I hardly ever drink,” Fanny said.

  “Me, either,” Nealy said, polishing off the amber liquid. She smacked her lips. “I did get drunk once, on my first date with Hatch.”

  Fanny laughed. “I did the same thing. Marcus showed up and cooked Thanksgiving dinner for my kids. I was . . . polluted.” She started to laugh. Nealy clapped her on the back as she poured from the bottle. “I think you just poured bourbon in my glass.” “Yep, I did. We’ll switch up. This isn’t working. I think it’ll be easier if we drink from the bottle. I drink beer from a bottle all the time. Same difference,” Nealy volunteered.

  “I hardly ever drink. It’s not ladylike. If you think we should drink out of the bottle, it’s fine with me. I don’t think it was full, do you, Nealy?”

  “Noooo. The only person I ever knew who could drink a whole bottle of bourbon was Maud. I’m a tea toddler.”

  “Totaler. Me, too. I hardly ever drink. I said that before, didn’t I?”

  Alarmed at the way the ladies were slugging from their respective bottles of liquor, the waiter pressed a button under the bar. Within minutes Sage Thornton appeared in the doorway. He shook his head at the waiter to indicate he would handle things.

  “Ladies, how are you?” Sage said, straddling a chair next to his mother.

  “Sage! Look, Nealy, Sage is here. Honey, we brought you some lunch,” Fanny said, pointing to the two paper bags on the table. “The best chicken soup in the state of Nevada. Take both bags. Nealy and I aren’t hungry. We’re just going to finish our drinks, then we’re going to go out to the center. I want to show her around. Can you go with us? Wouldn’t that be nice if Sage went with us, Nealy?”

  “Yes sireee, that would be nice. We should go now, Fanny. I don’t think we should drink any more until we get back. Isn’t it getting late?”

  Sage eyed the two bottles before he risked a glance at the bartender, who nodded. “Did you two ladies drink both these bottles?”

  “Yes, we did,” Fanny said smartly. “Neither one of us is a drinker. You know I hardly ever drink, honey. Sometimes, one needs to do things one doesn’t normally do.”

  “You went to that dump, didn’t you, Mom?”

  “We went to an establishment down the road and brought back this lovely chicken soup for your lunch. I don’t like it when you get cranky with me, Sage.”

  “I don’t like it either,” Nealy said. “You should never get cranky with your mother. You only have one mother. You always have to treat her with respect. I know that because I’m a mother. The dump was . . . it was quaint. Wasn’t it, Fanny?”

  “Yes, it was quaint. The bread was good, too. I love homemade bread. Maybe I don’t like the bread as much as I like the smell of it baking. Do you like the smell, Nealy?”

  “Love the smell, Fanny. Just love it. Aren’t we going somewhere?”

  “Yes, you are,” Sage said, taking his mother’s arm. He motioned for the bartender to help Nealy. “Let’s take them up in the service elevator.”

  Fanny reared back in her seat. “I will not ride up in the service elevator.”

  “Ma, you and Aunt Nealy are drunk as two skunks. It won
’t look good if someone sees you looking like this.”

  “Oh. Do you mind riding up in the service elevator, Nealy? Do you care if anyone sees you like this?”

  “I don’t know if I should care or not. We didn’t care when we went to that dump. This place is pretty fancy. Yes, I care.”

  Fanny sighed. “All right, we’ll go up in the freight elevator. Ooops,” she said as she fell against her son. “I’m going to take my shoes off, Nealy. You can take yours off, too. I have a story to tell you about shoes. Marcus sent me hundreds of pairs of shoes when he first met me. Will you remind me to tell you, Nealy?”

  “Absolutely,” Nealy muttered as she tottered after Fanny. “I probably won’t remember till tomorrow, though.”

  “Okay.”

  Inside the elevator, Sage looked down at his mother. “Ma, what happened? It’s only the middle of the morning, and you’re skunked. What the hell happened?”

  “Nothing happened. We brought some soup and some bread for your lunch. Why do you want to know?” She looked crafty.

  “Because I need to know, that’s why.”

  “We brought you soup and bread for lunch. If you don’t want it, all you have to do is tell your mother you don’t want it. She’s your only mother, pay attention to her,” Nealy said, waving her shoes around.

  “I’m going to eat it. Ma, you’re the only person in this whole damn town that ever gets chicken soup from that place. It’s always closed for repairs. You decide to visit and all of a sudden there’s soup and then things start happening.”

  Fanny rolled her eyes. “It’s just your imagination, honey. Oh, look, we’re here, Nealy. I lived here for a long time. I decorated it, didn’t I, Sage?”

  “Yeah, after you smashed it up.”

  “I might have moved things around a bit,” Fanny conceded. “I have these two wonderful red chairs. We’re going to curl up in them and talk, Nealy.”

  “After you drink a gallon of coffee,” Sage said, heading for the kitchen. “You two stay put and don’t move.”

  “She’s the only mother you have. You need to talk gently to her,” Nealy mumbled.

  “I should fire him,” Fanny said, flopping down on one of the red chairs. “Do ya ever notice, Nealy, how all of a sudden the kids are doing what you used to do for them. It’s like overnight they become your parents. Is that a good thing? I hate it that I’m getting old, and they have to look out for me.”

  “Don’t do it, Fanny. I did that once and regretted it.” Nealy curled into a tight ball on the red chair opposite Fanny. They stared at one another as Sage clanked his way around the kitchen.

  “We’ll talk when he leaves,” Fanny hissed.

  “I heard that!” Sage bellowed.

  “He heard,” Fanny mumbled. “Shhh.”

  The minute the coffee machine made its last plopping sound, he grabbed two cups from the cabinet and poured the dark brew almost to the brims. He settled them on a colorful tray the way he’d seen his wife do and carried it into the giant living room with the wraparound windows that offered a magnificent view of the entire town. He felt like laughing aloud when he saw his mother and aunt sound asleep. He bee-lined for the kitchen.

  Three minutes later he was talking to his twin in Atlantic City. “The two of them are shit-faced, Birch. Right now they’re both passed out. Yeah, yeah. She brought back that damn chicken soup. She’s the only one in this whole damn town that ever gets that chicken soup. She wouldn’t tell me a thing. She only goes there when she’s desperate, you know that. I have no clue what it means. My guess is she wants something, and they’re the only ones who can give it to her. I heard her tell Aunt Nealy they’d talk after I left. Off the top of my head, I’d say it has something to do with our old chef Willow. Birch, I got this lump in my throat a little while ago when I looked at Mom. I felt the same thing at that last board meeting when I saw her. She’s old, Birch. You need to come back here more often and spend time with Mom. I feel like bawling. You know what, I’m not sticking my nose in her business. If she wants to go to that dump and . . . do whatever it is she does there, then so be it. I’m even going to eat that damn soup. When the shit hits the fan, I’m going to look the other way. I don’t even know why I’m getting so bent out of shape. Mom has been taking care of herself and us and this casino for as long as I can remember. I guess she knows what she’s doing. And if she doesn’t, then it will be up to us to pick up the pieces just the way she’s picked up after us. Jeez, now I feel better. Nice talking to you, Birch.”

  Sage smacked his hands together in satisfaction. It always helped when he talked to his twin.

  In the living room, he stared down at his mother and for a moment relived a few old memories. As far as he was concerned, she was the best mother in the world. He bent over to kiss her wrinkled cheek. “Be happy,” he whispered before he left the room. The lump stayed in his throat until he made his way to the Harem Bar, where he picked up the two paper sacks and carried them to the kitchen. “Heat this up for me, will you? I’ll sit over here in the corner and eat it.”

  It was seven o’clock when Fanny and Nealy sat down in the foyer of the rehab center.

  “What do you think, Aunt Nealy?” Sunny asked.

  “I think it’s a beautiful place. It’s very homey-looking. I like it that no one wears a uniform. I feel a lot better now that I’ve seen everything. I hope Emmie can adjust.”

  “It will take a while. There’s a whole process you have to go through. It’s like the stages of grieving. In the beginning, she’ll fight it and do nothing to help herself. Then she’ll give in and go with the flow. Then she’ll get tired of feeling so bored and sick and decide to fight. At the fighting stage you literally fight and claw to get out of here. You do everything you’re told plus more because you want to go home. Emmie isn’t like me and Harry. This is our home. She’ll want to get back to Gabby and back to her horses at the farm. She’ll do it, too. You’ll see.”

  Nealy leaned over to hug her niece. “Thanks for telling me all that. I’ll come back next month to see her if she wants me to. I understand the rules are what makes this place work, so I’ll obey them. I won’t call or come until it’s time to do so.”

  “Will you call me from time to time to let me know how Jake’s doing?” Sunny asked.

  “Of course I’ll call you. He’s going to do just fine. I don’t want you to worry about him one little bit.”

  “He said he’ll drive out here this evening to say good-bye.” Tears filled Sunny’s eyes. “I just want him to be happy.”

  Nealy nodded. “I’ll send pictures. Will you . . .”

  “I’ll ride her tail every chance I get. I can be relentless. Harry can, too. I’ll keep you posted. I gotta go, Mom. We have chapel at seven-thirty.”

  “It’s very peaceful here, isn’t it, Nealy? It costs an outrageous sum of money to operate this place. Just so you know, Nealy, the other side of the street helps. I couldn’t have done this without their help. Every year they kick in millions so that people like Sunny and Harry can live here and not worry about cost. Half of all our revenues from both casinos goes to this facility and its sister center in Reno. The waiting list to get in here is mind-boggling. You might want to think about building a center like this in Kentucky. You have a ready-made setup already. You raise millions every year with your Derby Ball. Seven or eight acres of ground would do it. Metaxas would probably help you out. You could do it, Nealy.”

  Nealy rubbed at her temples. “I have the Queen Mother of all headaches. How about you? I could do that, couldn’t I? I swear, I’m never, ever, going to drink like that ever again. I still can’t believe I drank a whole bottle of bourbon.”

  “I guess we should start thinking about going back to the casino. I’m glad now I didn’t give Sage an argument about the car service. I was seeing double there for a while. We still have to get changed and hit the other side of the street. That means we dude up in our finery and make nice. Oh dear, I forgot all about this,” Fanny sai
d, fishing the white envelope out of her pocket.

  “What is it? A bill or a receipt for the soup?”

  “None of the above.” Fanny smiled. “It’s their contribution for the second half of the year. They’re always prompt. Sometimes they’re actually early, like now. They don’t have to do it at all, and that’s what makes it so extra special.” She waved the check in front of Nealy, who swooned at the amount. Fanny continued to smile as she tucked the check into her purse.

  “We can go now. Are you glad you came, Nealy?”

  “Very glad.”

  It was nine o’clock when word went out on the street that Fanny Thornton Reed and the most famous jockey in the world were going to visit the opposite side of the street. From windows high in the casinos, the owners watched the two women cross the street.

  They were wined and dined like visiting royalty. They posed for pictures in each casino, pictures that would run in all the daily papers the next day. As they left each casino, they were handed small velvet sacks full of sterling silver dollars. “I have thousands of these,” Fanny whispered. “I give them to the grandchildren at Christmastime. Save yours for Gabby.” Fanny reached down to take off her shoes.

  “I’m whipped,” Nealy said, taking off her shoes, too. “This town is just now starting to jump and it’s after midnight. Is it safe to be walking around a town like this at this time of night, Fanny?”

  “Oh, yes. In case you haven’t noticed, we have an escort, front and back. Sideways, too. I told you, they take care of me. Do you want to go somewhere and get an ice-cream cone?”

  “I’d like that, Fanny. I really would. Do you lick yours from the bottom to the top or do you go top to bottom?” To Nealy it was the most serious question in the world.

  “I bite off the top and then I lick from the top. How about you?”

  “Isn’t that amazing? I do the same thing. I like cherry vanilla. What’s your favorite?”