All That I Need (Grayson Friends)

by Ray, Francis

* * *

  Lance had a restless night and was up when Fallon’s plane took off early Sunday morning. He’d actually walked outside and looked up at the clear blue sky. He could admit to himself in the stillness of the morning that she had come to mean more to him than he felt comfortable with.

  He couldn’t clearly define how she fit in his life or even if she should. He only knew that he had enjoyed being with her and that her departure left him feeling on edge and restless. One thing he wouldn’t admit to was feeling lonely. He didn’t need a woman to make his life complete. Returning inside, he’d gone to his office to work.

  Now, hours later, he found himself in the guest bedroom staring at the glass collection. He would have bet any amount of money that he wasn’t the sentimental type, yet he’d paid three thousand dollars over the appraised price for the collection. He wasn’t even sure why. In all things, he thought, he was practical. He had no use for the crystal.

  Leaving the room, he went back to his office. The auction was in less than a week. Making sure it was a success should be his sole focus, yet somehow Fallon kept slipping into his consciousness.

  Perhaps it was because it was so easy to recall her vibrant presence here and in every room of the house. She’d wanted the auction to succeed and helped him to ensure that it did—asking nothing in return, even at times ignoring his brusqueness. He knew he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with.

  Yet she had stuck. For a little while at least, he had been enough. But would she have remained or would she, like those before her, one day leave because he couldn’t give them what they needed due to his inadequacies?

  He picked up the landline phone and dialed a number he hadn’t called in over a year. If not for his aunt, he would have gladly waited another year.

  “Hello.”

  At the sound of his mother’s voice, Lance was hurtled back to the young boy who had wanted his mother’s love and support after the death of his father, but she had chosen a stranger instead.

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  “It’s Lance.”

  Now his mother was the one silent for a long moment. “Gladys said you would call.”

  No pleasant greeting, no warmth, just cold duty. “Aunt Gladys wants you here for the wedding. Richard is marrying a sweet woman with a little girl.”

  “Are you seeing anyone special?”

  He frowned, surprised by the personal question. They didn’t do personal. “No.” Whatever was going on between him and Fallon, it wouldn’t last and it certainly wouldn’t end at the altar. “You can fly to Dallas, then take a direct flight to Santa Fe, or drive.”

  “I’ll tell Jim.”

  Jim. Always the man she’d married. She acted as if she couldn’t make a decision without him. Lance would have thought her abused, but she wasn’t. You do that, he almost snapped. “Aunt Gladys wants you to come. Call her when you decide. Bye.”

  “Good-bye, Lance.”

  He hung up the phone and sat there for a moment staring at it. Was he mistaken or was there something different in his mother’s voice? She’d sounded … despondent. In the past, her response to him had been as even as his own. Could she be ill?

  He reached for the phone to call back, even punched in the area code, before hanging up. He wasn’t sure she’d tell him if he asked, which was a pretty clear indication of their poor relationship. He picked up the phone again. This time he completed the call.

  “Hello,” answered his aunt on the third ring.

  “Hello, Aunt Gladys. I just got off the phone with my mother. She didn’t sound like her usual self.”

  “I wondered if I had imagined it.”

  His brows bunched. “Imagined what?”

  “I was so excited when I called to tell her about Richard getting married. She sounded happy; then I mentioned you were in the wedding and back in Santa Fe. I could tell she was surprised. You hadn’t told her you were here, had you?”

  “She has my phone number,” he replied. His mother could just as well call him.

  “Lan-n-c-ce,” his aunt said, drawing out his name. Clearly she hadn’t liked his reply. “I think she finally realizes that sometimes in life you don’t get a second chance. She regrets that you’re not close.”

  He refused to believe that. “You’re mistaken. Jim is what she wants. She can’t have a conversation without mentioning his name.”

  “You might not like Jim, but he’s a good husband to your mother,” Gladys said. “I admit he was too strict with you, but you never wanted him married to your mother and you let him and everyone else know it.”

  “He wasn’t my father.”

  “And you never let Jim or Irene forget,” Gladys said gently. “You were too young to understand things between a man and a woman, and she didn’t know how to reach you.”

  “I understood that in less than a year she had forgotten about her husband and started seeing other men.”

  “I don’t believe she had forgotten,” Lance’s aunt replied quietly. “I’m telling you this in hopes you’ll try to understand now that you’ve been in a relationship yourself. Your mother wasn’t over your father. She was grieving. She tried to fill the void. She loved your father and you. His sudden death devastated her. Sometimes people make decisions they regret and have to live with the consequences.”

  Lance had difficulty taking it all in. “Are you saying she doesn’t love Jim?”

  “Only your mother knows how she feels,” Lance’s aunt said. “I do know she asks about you every time we talk, asks how I think you’re doing. But since you haven’t been around since you broke up with Ashley, I couldn’t tell her much.”

  A pain he didn’t want to remember shot through him. He’d buried himself in work so he could forget. He hadn’t wanted to be around anyone he knew because they would have known something was wrong. To prevent that, he’d stayed away the past three years. He hadn’t thought how his absence would affect them. “You know I love you and Uncle Leo.”

  “Yes, we do. But what about your mother?”

  It was a loaded question, and one he wasn’t sure how to answer. “She hasn’t shown that it matters how I feel about her.”

  “If you looked past your own anger and pain, I think you’d see that she has.”

  His aunt was wrong and he was tired of talking about it. “I asked her to call you with her decision.”

  “She would have liked it better if you had said to call you.”

  Again his aunt was wrong. “I have to go.”

  “One day you’ll stop running. I just hope, when you do, it’s not too late. Good-bye, honey.”

  “Good-bye.” Lance hung up the phone. He wasn’t running from anything. He just saw no reason to give people another chance to shaft him. Besides, he had enough on his mind at the moment.

  He’d decided to do the open house as Fallon had suggested. It would take a lot of additional work and be time-consuming, and that was exactly what he needed at the moment. He hoped it would keep her off his mind.

  Somehow he seriously doubted it, but he was willing to give it a shot.

  * * *

  Fallon was in the cheery red-and-white kitchen with her mother when her sister came home from her job as a paralegal. Two years younger and two inches taller, Megan was model-thin gorgeous. She turned heads wherever she went. Fallon was out of her seat and around the table in seconds to give her sister a hug.

  “Hi, Megan. Dinner will be ready shortly,” her mother said. “You have time to go wash up and change.”

  “Sounds good, since I worked though lunch again today.” Megan wrinkled her pert nose. “If Gordon Russell wasn’t such a brilliant lawyer and didn’t work just as hard as he demands of others, I’d find another job.”

  “And it doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eye.” Fallon grinned.

  “Believe me, that pales after three years and often twelve-hour days.” Megan grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “If I hadn’t told him you were arriving today, I
’d still be at work.”

  “Last night she didn’t get home until after seven.” Her mother opened the stove and pulled out the roast she’d prepared. “Dinner on the table in five minutes.”

  Megan grabbed her sister’s arm. “Keep me company while I change.”

  In Megan’s room, Fallon sat on the bed. “You look good.”

  Megan’s dark brown eyes narrowed. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about you. Your eyes are red and you have circles under them.”

  Fallon tried to bluff. “Long hours and the dry air in Santa Fe.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think so.” Taking off her ecru-colored suit, Megan hung it up on a padded hanger, then pulled on a pink strapless sundress and sat beside Fallon. “You know how Mama hates to hold dinner, so spill. Who or what has you upset?”

  Since Megan could be as persistent as Fallon when she wanted something, Fallon told her, “I met a man, and it didn’t turn out the way I wanted.”

  Megan, always protective despite being younger, hugged Fallon again. “Tell me where to find the scumbag. I know people.”

  Fallon almost laughed. Megan made friends as easily as she breathed, and since she worked for one of the top criminal defense lawyers in the state, some of the people she encountered had less than savory reputations. “Thanks, but it’s my fault. I knew from the beginning he wasn’t into a long-term relationship. I told myself I could handle things.” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.”

  “Any chance he’s as unhappy as you are?” Megan asked.

  “I’d like to think so, but it won’t make any difference. Lance Saxton is a very self-contained man.”

  “Dinner is ready, girls,” their mother called from the kitchen.

  “We’re coming, Mama.” Megan stood, pulling Fallon with her. “After dinner we’ll have a long talk, and if he hasn’t called by the time we’ve finished we’ll download a picture of him and use it for dart practice.”

  “It’s not his fault,” Fallon insisted. For some odd reason she didn’t want her family to think badly of Lance.

  Megan grunted and turned Fallon to face her. “Almost every day I hear someone say it wasn’t his or her fault. Gordon always reminds them of one thing: you can have the best of intentions, but only the end result matters.”

  “Gordon sounds as pragmatic as Lance.” Fallon wrapped her arms around her waist. “They might have liked each other.”

  With a frown on her pretty face and worry in her eyes, their mother appeared in the door. “You need to eat, Fallon. You’ll feel better.”

  Megan glanced between the two women. “So Mama knows.”

  “I cried all over her when I got home,” Fallon confessed. “I’m sorry I put such a damper on the evening.”

  “You’ve done no such thing,” her mother said. “I’m glad you’re home. If he can’t see what a wonderful woman you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Mama’s right. He’d better come through or he might not like the consequences. The Marshall women aren’t to be trifled with.”

  That was the problem, Fallon thought: Lance was of the same opinion.

  * * *

  The open house Thursday night was wildly successful, just as Fallon had predicted. Shortly after ten, Lance waved the last guest good night and went back inside the house. The members of the Santa Fe Historical Society were appreciative of a first look before the auction, and the independent buyers were glad to see the items in person. He’d made sure the pictures in the brochures were top quality, but they had only one view. There was nothing like seeing the pieces for yourself.

  Fallon had also been right about the personal notes. A couple of the women had actually become emotional on reading them.

  And she wouldn’t be back for weeks.

  Going inside, Lance went to his office and took a seat behind his desk. He wasn’t as bad as Richard about crossing off the days, but he was probably close. He glanced at the clock on his desk. Ten thirteen.

  He hadn’t called Fallon since she left, but neither had she called him. She wouldn’t run after any man, but all he had to do was remember the hunger he’d seen in her eyes in her apartment the night before she left to know she wanted him almost as much as he wanted her.

  Yet if that was the case, why hadn’t she called? Calling her would give her the upper hand. Women. They created upheaval and uncertainty in a man’s life just by breathing. He should just try to forget her.

  He gave it his best shot for the next nine minutes by going over the program for the auction before giving up. He’d created the program, had worked with the printer every step of the way; however, he couldn’t recall a thing he’d read. Annoyed at Fallon and his own weakness, he reached for the cell phone in his pocket and punched in the phone number he’d memorized.

  “Hello.”

  He frowned. It was a woman, but not Fallon. Fallon’s voice was bedroom husky. He shifted in his seat and forbade his mind from going there. In the background, he heard loud music. “I’m sorry; I must have misdialed.”

  “Were you looking for Fallon?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t know if he should be concerned or not. “Is she available?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  He stiffened. “I might ask the same question.”

  “Since I know where Fallon is and I have her phone, I believe I win this pissing contest.”

  “Lance Saxton,” he bit out, his irritation growing at the woman’s rudeness.

  There was a long pause.”You took your sweet time calling. I should hang up this phone. My sister doesn’t deserve to be treated like this,” she flared, her voice rising.

  Sister. He recalled her name was Megan. It appeared she was as outspoken and as no-nonsense as Fallon. Telling Megan to mind her own business ran through Lance’s mind before he realized that if she decided to “lose” the phone he’d have no way of contacting Fallon. “I’m calling now. I’d like to speak to Fallon, please.”

  “Too little, too late,” Megan said with entirely too much satisfaction. “We’re out partying. Fallon has been on the dance floor since we arrived. She has her pick of guys to take her home. She is having the time of her life and she doesn’t—”

  He heard a thunk, indistinguishable female voices.

  “Lance, is that you?”

  He should hang up. But she’d still know he’d called. He had his pride. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted you to know that your idea of having a preview was spot-on. The last guest left a short time ago.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Did her voice lack the excitement he’d heard earlier when she answered the phone? “I won’t keep you. I hear the music. You’re probably anxious to get back on the dance floor.”

  “Dance floor? Why would you think that?”

  “Your sister. After she told me off, she said you were out partying and had your choice of men to take you home,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. It hadn’t taken her long to forget him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  “And you believed that I was out partying and picking up men?” She sounded hurt.

  There was only one damning answer. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  Now she sounded pissed. He had to talk fast or she might hang up on him. “It’s your sister’s fault. She misled me on purpose.” He didn’t have any problem throwing Megan under the bus.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Fallon said. “Why did you call?”

  Lance knew he had to talk quick and make it good. “I wanted to invite you to the auction tomorrow. I thought it might be a good follow-up piece for your story.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  Fallon never took things at face value. “I’d like to see you.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’d like to see you, too.”

  He finally relaxed. “I’ll pay for your ticket and pick you up at the airport,” he said. “The guest cottage has two bedrooms.” He hoped the last
came out casual.

  “I can take care of my own travel arrangements and get myself to the auction. You’ll be busy tomorrow.”

  “I can arrange for a car to pick you up and I insist on taking care of the ticket as well,” he said. “I would have purchased the ticket already, but I wanted to ask you first. I did reserve you a seat.”

  “Totally acceptable. You’re learning.” There was laughter in her voice.

  “I’m doing my best,” he said, finding that he was smiling as well. “Call when you have things confirmed.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  “I’ll wait for your call. Bye.” A huge smile on his face, Lance hung up the phone. He had another chance with Fallon, and this time he was making it count.

  Chapter 7

  Friday afternoon, a long line of cars, trucks, and SUVs were parked on one side of the mile-long driveway leading to the Yates house. Wisely, Lance had hired policemen to ensure traffic control. Once the limo driver Lance had sent spoke with Security, the driver was waved on. Fallon had accepted the car service because she didn’t need a rental. Scooting forward in her seat, Fallon saw a huge white tent that obscured the front of the house. People spilled out from all sides.

  As they neared, another policeman approached the car and directed the driver where to park. When Fallon got out she noted that there were no other cars, only four golf carts with young men dressed in white polo shirts and black pants, each standing by a cart. Apparently they were there to take people to and from their vehicles.

  She strained her neck to see Lance and couldn’t. Over the loudspeaker she heard the auctioneer call up the Regency table that held the glass collection from the master bedroom. She wondered if the collection had sold.

  “Ms. Marshall?”

  Fallon turned to see an attractive middle-aged woman in a black dress with a good-looking young man beside her. “Yes?”

  “I’m Carmen, Mr. Saxton’s housekeeper and cook. This is my son, Oskar. He’ll take your bags and show you to the guest cottage,” she said.

  Fallon hoped she didn’t blush. “I’m not sure I’m staying here.”

  The dark-haired woman smiled in reassurance. “Mr. Saxton said you might not stay, but he thought you might want to freshen up and have a quick bite since your flight was delayed and you had a longer layover in Dallas than expected.”