Wish List

by Fern Michaels

  Lex eyed the shepherd, who appeared as alert as ever. His own eyelids felt heavy as he muttered something about weighing seven pounds.

  “That’s how much I weighed,” Ariel said. “My mother said I was a wailer, that I cried all the time because I had gas. I don’t think she wanted me. Once I heard her tell her friend I was a mistake. She never hugged me or kissed me, at least not that I can remember.” She sighed. “It was all so long ago. Nobody ever really loved me except two people. Dolly and . . . and . . . a friend of mine. Dolly still loves me and now Snookie loves me. I like the feeling.”

  Lex yawned. It took him a few seconds to realize Ariel was sound asleep in his lap. He risked a glance at Snookie, who was eyeing him warily. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Maybe he should just close them and go to sleep. “I hate your guts. You know that, don’t you?” he said to the shepherd. “I don’t really. I love dogs, but you’re one big, king-size pain in the ass.”

  Lex stared down at Ariel. She was so pretty in sleep, a golden-haired angel. His hands moved and he found himself tracing the outlines of her chiseled features. He stopped, not because Snookie growled, but because he remembered another time long ago when he’d done exactly the same thing. Again and again he allowed his fingers to trace the outline of her eyes, her chin, her nose, and then the whole of her face. It felt the same, perhaps a little larger, perhaps a little more defined, just the way it should feel because it was older. He wanted to wake her, to ask her if Ariel Hart was a name Hollywood gave her, but he didn’t. Snookie wouldn’t allow it. He wondered if Ariel had a birthmark above her elbow, a pinkish-brown mark. Holding his breath, he inched up the sleeve of her T-shirt. Maybe it was the wrong arm. His eyes on Snookie, he moved the sleeve on Ariel’s left arm. There was no pinkish-brown mark. But there was a faint scar the size of a dime. That in itself meant nothing. Even the contours of her face meant nothing.

  He closed his eyes, the nerves in his stomach doing battle. He’d been drawn to this woman the moment he set eyes on her. He’d felt something. He sensed that she had, too. After all this time, was it possible he’d finally found his true love? It was about as likely as San Diego getting twenty-four inches of snow in August.

  He slept, his hands cradling Ariel’s face.

  Snookie waited until she heard his deep breathing before she lowered her head to her paws. Even then, she stared at the sleeping couple a long time before she allowed her own eyes to close.

  The moment the lacy shadows of the early dawn started to creep toward the horizon, Snookie moved slowly, stretching her long, sleek, powerful body. Gently she nudged the sleeping man’s arm. When he didn’t stir, she did it again. She inched closer, her pink tongue swiping at Lex’s ear. She wiggled her ears when she heard him say, “Don’t stop, that feels so good.” The busy pink tongue worked its way down the side of his neck and then back up.

  Lex cracked open one eye to stare directly into the shepherd’s face. He saw the pink tongue and realized the dog was waiting for him to do something. What, for God’s sake? Snookie nudged him again, first with her snout and then with her paw. Finally it dawned on him that she wanted to be let out. He carefully inched himself away from Ariel and got to his feet. Snookie trotted after him, waiting patiently while he unlatched the door. She looked back once. Lex stood rooted to the floor.

  “Now what?” Lex whispered.

  Snookie came back in and immediately dragged his shoes over to the chair. “Time for me to go, huh?” He watched as the big dog took his place on the satin comforter. “Gotcha. I know, this is a test. If I go, you’ll accept me easier next time. I’m outta here. I’ll leave it up to you to do the explaining.”

  Lex tiptoed down the steps and went out through the kitchen. Right now he’d kill for a cup of coffee, but he had the feeling if he made any stops along the way the shepherd would be three steps ahead of him, somehow, someway. He couldn’t believe he was kowtowing to a dog. He let himself out the kitchen door then drove to an all-night fast food restaurant and ordered two cups of coffee. He sat in his truck, drinking and thinking.

  Was it possible Ariel Hart was Agnes Bixby? In your dreams, Lex Sanders, in your dreams. How could he find out without actually asking her point-blank? If he did, and she wasn’t Agnes, she might laugh at his devotion to a memory. He didn’t think he could bear that. Maybe she didn’t want anyone to know her background. So many things fit. She spoke of a friend in her youth, but never named the friend. He remembered how Aggie told him she was a mistake, and that her parents didn’t love her. He remembered the feel of her face against his hands. Was it possible? Anything was possible.

  Lex finished the coffee and headed for Bonsall. He had to remember he had a ranch to run, business to take care of.

  At eight o’clock he was on the road again. His first stop was at his attorney’s office, knowing Colin worked a seven-day week. “Colin, scratch the divorce. I changed my mind. Send me a bill.”

  “Lex . . . damn it, Lex, get back here and tell me . . . goddammit, Lex. Okay, okay. Are you going through some mid-life crisis I should know about?” the attorney bellowed.

  “Yeah,” Lex bellowed back.

  His next stop was the offices of the private detective he’d hired. “Forget what I hired you to do. I want you to do something else. He spelled out in detail what he wanted. ”Everything. Every written word. By the middle of next week. I don’t care what it costs, but it better be within reason. If you can’t do it, tell me now. You can. Good.”

  Lex was back on the interstate. Now, he could attend to business.

  Ariel woke slowly, warm and comfortable. “Oohh, you’re so soft and snuggly,” she whispered. “Do that again. Hmmnnn, I like that.” She opened one sleepy eye and gasped, “Snookie!” She looked around, her eyes wild. “Where’s Lex? Like I really expect you to answer me. Oh, God,” she muttered, dropping her head into her hands. “What I’d like to know is, did you let him leave or did you chase him out? This man is going to think I’m some kind of a nut case.”

  Snookie tilted her head to the side and stretched her sleek body lazily. She turned, picked up one of Ariel’s shoes, and walked toward the door. Somehow, she woofed, the shoe tight in her teeth, and took a few more steps.

  “I get it, he put his shoes on and left. Do you want to go out?” The shepherd sat down on her haunches and then lowered her graceful body to a full-length position on the floor. “Guess he let you out, too.”

  Ariel sat down on the floor next to Snookie. She stroked her, cuddled her, her thoughts busy. A long time later, she said, “If it’s meant to be, it will be. I like his sense of humor, though. There’s not another man in the world who would have put up with you last night. He’s a good sport. I like him. I think you do, too. Let’s go downstairs and get some coffee and breakfast. Sticky buns sound real good. Maybe some scrambled eggs to go with them. Bet Dolly’s already up and cooking.”

  The red brick kitchen was dim and empty. Ariel flicked on the overhead fluorescent light. The white lightning allowed her to see that Dolly’s door was open and her room empty. In all the years they’d been together, Dolly’s room had never been empty in the morning. She felt an immediate sense of loss and wasn’t sure why. To cover her confusion, she measured out coffee, poured water, and gave Snookie her breakfast. Then she poured a glass of orange juice and ate a stale doughnut. No sticky buns and scrambled eggs this morning.

  When the dog finished her breakfast she waited for her vitamin and a second pill that guaranteed a glossy coat. “Go ahead, have a run for yourself. Maybe we’ll go for a walk later. God, I hate Sundays.”

  Ariel drank her coffee while Snookie meandered all around the yard. When she finished the pot, she called the dog in and headed upstairs to take her shower. The day loomed ahead of her. She wondered what Lex was doing, what he was thinking. She knew she was falling in love with the rancher. She felt flustered and out of control for the first time in her life.

  Back downstairs, dressed in baggy jeans and an equally ba
ggy T-shirt, Ariel made a second pot of coffee. While it perked, she walked out to the gate for the Sunday paper. She was halfway through it when Dolly, Harry, and Agent Navaro appeared at the back door. Ariel peered over the top of her granny reading glasses. “Good morning.”

  “Miss Hart, we want to talk to you about something. Two of your trucks were hijacked during the night. We just found out an hour ago. One in Oklahoma and one in Arizona. Your truck in Oklahoma was hijacked at 4:10. The Arizona hijacking took place at thirteen minutes past midnight. We’re looking at the proverbial brick wall. Andrews is delivering appliances for Sears. We’re having him watched. He said he was home watching television. We can’t prove that he wasn’t.”

  “He did it,” Ariel said, her tone stubborn, her face a mask of fury. “He might not have driven the truck, but he’s behind this one hundred percent. I damn well know it.”

  “In this country, Miss Hart, a man is innocent until he’s proven guilty.”

  “Keep saying that when they cancel my insurance and I’m forced to file for bankruptcy. What about his cronies?”

  “They have alibis, too, but they’re weak. We’re on top of this. There is something we’d like to discuss with you. But first you should know the workers at the different ranches are being stirred up. We understand there was some kind of meeting last night around ten o’clock. Saturday nights are good for that sort of thing around here. The workers are off, they come into town and spend money. Even Lex Sanders’s workers were there. Sanders, from what I’ve been told, treats his people better than any rancher around these parts. All he asks in return is loyalty. Somebody must be promising something to these people to make them even attend such a meeting. I doubt Sanders even knows about it. We’ll be bringing him up to speed today.”

  “What does all that mean?” Ariel asked. She stared at the federal agent and realized he was just mouthing words, like a brand new actress in front of the camera for the first time.

  “I think it means the ranchers aren’t going to get their avocados picked if the workers walk out. If you can’t get your crop to market, what good is it? Picking is due to start this week. The avocado crops are what keep these ranchers in business all year. Sanders has other interests, but he could take a serious loss if he doesn’t get his crops picked.”

  “I can’t believe his people would turn on him like that,” Ariel said. “He just put washers and dryers in for them. He bought bicycles and toys for the kids. Maybe they were at the meeting just out of curiosity,” she added without conviction.

  Agent Navaro’s expression was compassionate. “If you promise a hard-working man who works from sunup to sundown a thousand dollars, cash, he’s going to listen. These workers have never seen that much money at one time in their life. It’s like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”

  “But then they’re out of a job.”

  “For the moment. Some rancher will hire them. It doesn’t have to be Sanders. A rancher is only as good as the people who work for him. The workers know someone will hire them when a crop is ready to be picked. It’s not just the avocados, it’s the lettuce and all the other produce that’s grown around here. That thousand dollars is a veritable fortune.”

  “But Lex has a school for the little ones and he gives them clean, decent apartments. He cares about his people. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe they’d turn on him like that.”

  “I find it hard to believe myself, but it’s going to happen. Probably within the next few days.” He sounds like he wants it to happen, Ariel thought. He’s just going through motions.

  “What will the ranchers do?”

  “Get family and friends in to help pick. The fruit rots on the trees. There aren’t many options.”

  “Would it help if . . . God, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but would it help if I went to Chet Andrews and hired him back? Lex will never agree to Chet driving for him. Even when Mr. Able owned the company, Lex wouldn’t agree to it. Andrews hates both Lex and me. The man is a terrorist, and he’s got us all running in fear, but I’ll hire him back if it’ll stop all this and help the ranchers.”

  “I think it’s gone too far, Miss Hart. The man has no conscience, and he likes the part of the bully. He was born to it. Now, this is what Harry and I were thinking. I understand you have your trucker’s license. Your man, Stan Petrie, called early this morning and informed me that Sanders’s agent in Nevada has come up with those collectibles he wants. Seems an old retired showman passed away last week and his widow is hard-pressed for cash. She has exactly what Sanders wants. Petrie is going to arrange for delivery, but I thought what we could do was to pretend you were going to be the one making the run. That way if Andrews hears about it, and I’m sure he already knows, he’ll come after you instead of the real shipment. If all goes well, Sanders gets his stuff, we get Andrews, and wrap up the case. We need you to cross the state line. Nevada is just as good as Arizona—it’s your decision. In reality, you’ll be driving an empty truck with Harry and me in the back. I’m going to give some thought to having other agents follow us in unmarked cars. The reason I want you to drive instead of one of your men is because this is a vendetta on Andrews’ part. We suspect it’s him, too, so you aren’t alone in your opinion. It’s dangerous, you need to know that going in.”

  Ariel’s heart raced. She could see a definite gleam in Harry’s eyes. “Well . . . I . . . what if something goes wrong? What if they spot you? What if nothing happens? He’s not exactly stupid. He might suspect this is a trap and not go for it. Then, what happens to the ranchers and their crops? What if he already knows about Lex’s real shipment and outfoxes you? That’ll kill Lex. Just how good are you guys, anyway?”

  “What you say could well be true. We won’t know unless we try. To answer your question about the ranchers, I just don’t know. Depends on how much money was promised and how agitated he can get the workers. It’s not one of those either-or problems, it’s an ‘as is’, as we say in the business. We do our best. As for Sanders, I hope he gets what he wants. I just don’t see any other options. We always get our man, Miss Hart. Does that answer your question?”

  “I’ll ride with you if you decide to do it, Ariel,” Dolly said. “Snookie goes too, right?”

  “I guess so. Okay, I’ll do it on one condition. I can carry my gun.”

  “I didn’t hear you say that,” Agent Navaro said.

  “Yes, you did. I want it in writing, too. Otherwise, I won’t do it. It’s not fair of you to ask, either. I want to help. You forget, Agent Navaro, that I made hundreds of movies and I’m a movie buff and read a lot. You say you’ll be there, you promise this, you promise that. But when push comes to shove, I’m on my own. You know as well as I do that a hundred different things could go wrong. That’s why they make movies, to show people how it really is. I know you’re going to dispute that, but it’s a fact. I don’t mind being on my own because I can take care of myself as can Dolly. The gun is . . . a safety net, so to speak. I have a permit, and I know how to shoot. The cops say they look the other way, but the way my luck has been running lately, I’ll get a trooper who won’t.” She knew she’d offended him. It was in his eyes, the set of his shoulders, and the tightened lips.

  “We have jurisdiction,” Agent Navaro said.

  “Then you won’t mind putting it in writing.”

  Navaro nodded curtly. “It’s going to take a day to set this up. You’ll drive up to Nevada—I think that’s our best shot—and pick up a rig there. The scheduled driver will suddenly get sick. You’ll just happen to be there, gambling, whatever, and offer to bring it back. Once it goes out on the air we’ll wait a reasonable length of time, then you pick up the truck and we’ll take it from there. Some of those drivers are like gossipy old women when it comes to talking on that CB. They talk in some kind of code, but I got the gist of it. Curled my hair, I can tell you. Sanders collectibles go out at the same time you take to the road.”

  “Thanks for telling me that. When do yo
u think this is all going to happen?” Ariel asked.

  “Sometime tomorrow. If you don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day, why don’t you head up to Vegas? We’ll have someone drive your vehicle back. Check in at the Mirage, have dinner, play the slots or do whatever you like, then call Stan here in dispatch over the CB. Make it sound like it’s a two-day getaway. You’re the actress. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how to act. We’ll be in touch.”

  “What about Snookie? They aren’t going to let her into that big, fancy hotel.”

  “Trust me, they’ll let her in,” Navaro said, flashing his badge.

  Ariel’s expression was dubious. Suddenly she wanted to snatch the agent’s badge and mangle it.

  “I’ll pack,” Dolly said.

  “When you get there, go up to the desk and tell them your name. Your room will be ready and so will your key. No fuss, no waiting in line, none of that. When you’re ready to leave, just put the key on the dresser and walk out. Do me a favor, though—don’t let the dog mess on the carpets.” When Snookie growled menacingly, Agent Navaro backed up a step.

  “Okay.”

  “We can see ourselves out,” the agent said.

  “You’re crazy, Ariel,” Dolly said when the door closed behind the two agents.

  “How come you didn’t say that when they were standing there proposing this little jaunt?”

  “Because I was so flabbergasted, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I knew you were going to do it so why should I get all upset? I can read you real clear, Ariel.”