For Your Love (16 page)

“I see. Or was it because they thought Rance was trying to play you? Lots of men make their living preying on vulnerable women.”

“I'm not vulnerable, and he's not that way. In fact, you can meet him. He came back with me. Rance, honey, come on in.”

Bernadine stared at Diane and then up at the tall, handsome man who entered. He looked like a model. The coat draped casually over his arm was cashmere, his well-­fitting charcoal suit top-­of-­the-­line, his tie tasteful. His hair had just a touch of gray at the temples. He was elegant, refined, and camera-­ready. All she could think was, What the hell was he doing with Diane?

“Hello. So you're my Diana's sister. She's told me all about you. I can't figure which one of you is more gorgeous. I'm Rance Gordon.” The hand he extended had the perfect amount of shirt cuff peeking from beneath his jacket sleeve, the better to display the expensive Rolex on his wrist. If fake had a scent, he reeked so much she needed a gas mask.

She smiled and lied, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Same here. May I call you Bernadine?”

“Please.”

He sat down next to Diane, who was ogling him like a sixteen-­year-­old meeting Smokey Robinson back in the day. Bernadine wanted to grab her by her shoulders, shake her, and yell, “Snap out of it!” If he was a venture capitalist, she was a unicorn.

“So you're a venture capitalist?”

“I am. Offices in San Francisco and Boston.”

“Ah.”

“Your sister says you're a very wealthy woman.”

She didn't respond, but Diane did. “She owns this whole town.”

Bernadine kept her face unreadable.

He smiled like an elegant shark. “If you need investment advice, I'm at your disposal.”

“So what brings you to Kansas?”

“Thought I'd see if there were any business opportunities to be had.”

“You have offices in San Francisco?”

“I do.”

“A friend of mine is considering investing in a start-­up called Unicorn. They're working on a beta for digital wearables. Ever heard of them?”

“I have. In fact, we gave them their first two million to extend their R&D.”

“I'm impressed.” Mainly because she'd just made that up. There was no such start-­up, and he was either a con man, a gigolo, or both. The designation didn't matter, though. She just needed him gone and out of her sister's life. Immediately. “So, Rance, how long will you be visiting, and where are you staying?”

“I invited him to stay with us,” Diane piped up.

“Sorry. No.” The way he tensed for just a split second was telling. She met his gaze, and the smile he sent back was again shark-­like.

“Why not?” Diane asked.

“Not trying to offend, but I don't allow strangers in my home.” Not only did she not trust him, there was no way she'd allow him near Crystal.

“That's mean,” Diane protested.

“No, Di, it isn't. He is welcome to join us for dinner at the Dog tonight, though.”

“It's okay, sweetheart,” he told her reassuringly. “I can get a room nearby. And we'd love to join you for dinner. Is there a hotel in town?”

“No,” Bernadine said. “Closest places are along the highway you took coming in.”

He didn't like hearing that either, but he played it off. “Then I guess we need to get going.”

“Yes, you should.”

They got to their feet and put on their coats.

Bernadine had one last jab to throw. “And Diane, don't forget you're supposed to be looking for a job.”

He startled. “A job?”

Diane's fury was plain. Bernadine didn't care. If telling him the truth sent him packing, so be it. Diane would be better off. “Yes, she was fired from her custodial position while she was in Hawaii.”

He coughed. “Custodial? She told me she was your vice president.”

Bernadine gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. “My sister is such a kidder.”

He took Bernadine's measure. She didn't blink. He inclined his head politely. “Pleasure meeting you. We'll see you later.”

As he turned to leave, Diane angrily flipped Bernadine the bird and followed him out.

Once they were gone, Bernadine placed her forehead on the desk and cried aloud, “Lord, what next!”

After a few minutes she picked up her phone and called Kyle Dalton to ask a favor. They talked for a short while about how best to implement what she wanted done. When they'd agreed upon a course of action, she thanked him, took a deep breath, and called Astrid.

The secretary put her through. “What do you want?” Astrid, always the professional, snapped.

Mindful of Paula's advice, Bernadine held on to her temper. “I was hoping we could get together for lunch one day this week and try to work out our differences.”

“Are you going to stop the improvements over there?”

“No.”

“Then go to hell!” The line went dead.

Bernadine tossed her phone on the desk. So much for world peace.

Tommy Stewart was on his knees, looking up at the U-­shaped pipe beneath the small sink. He needed a weapon. He'd thought about using the lid of the toilet tank, but it was heavy and unwieldy, and he wasn't sure it would be maneuverable enough to do what he needed it to do—­knock Astrid out, so he could escape. If he missed, he might not get a second chance. A pipe could be held in one hand, and if he had to hit her more than once he could. The only problem was how to free the pipe from the sink. It ran down from the bowl into a U joint with another pipe that ran into the wall. He had no tools, and there was nothing in the room he could use to knock it loose. Even if there were, the process would be noisy, and that might bring her and her shotgun down to investigate. He didn't need that.

Using two hands, he grabbed the pipe up high where it met the sink and pulled. Nothing. Putting his shoulder and back into it, he pulled again, this time harder. It wiggled just the tiniest bit, and his eyes lit up gleefully. The caulk was old and brittle. It might take a while to actually get it to detach, but he was encouraged. Keeping his eyes and ears open for her next visit, he anchored his feet flat against the wall and pulled.

 

W
alking into the rec center's auditorium, Trent smiled to himself watching Bobby moving around like an old man. Apparently he was still feeling the effects of yesterday's shoveling. At Bobby's age, nineteen, Trent had been able to knock out the snow at Tamar's, head over to Marie's to do hers, help Mal at the Dog, and still have the energy to spend a few hours cross-­country skiing with Gary and his friends—­but then again, he was a country boy born and raised. “Did you lift weights back in Dallas?”

“Yeah, but after the babies, there wasn't time or the money to be in the gym.”

“I have a set of weights in my basement you're free to use. Build yourself up so the snow doesn't wear you out so badly next time. Long way to go before April.”

“I feel like an old man.”

“Noticed that.”

Bobby shot him a grin.

They were there at the auditorium to do a final inspection of the work done by the hired repair crews. As a result of the riot, windows needed replacing, floors needed to be sanded and buffed, the components of the sound system had been ripped apart and stolen, thus needing to be replaced and installed. In addition, some of the kitchen appliances had been looted, along with all the town's emergency supplies stored there.

Trent scanned the place. It looked as good as it had before. The seats had been cleaned, the aisles swept. The gleam of the newly laid stage floor could be seen from Mars. A few workers were moving about, pushing vacuums and brooms, but overall the rec center was ready for the movies on Friday and any other event that might be held there.

“Let's check the kitchen.”

It too was in great shape. Tamar and her ladies were there, putting the area back together. “Morning,” he said.

Tamar looked up from her clipboard. “Morning, you two.”

“How's it going?” Trent asked. With Tamar were Genevieve, Marie, and—­to his delight—­Anna Ruiz. He was glad Tamar had taken her under her wing.

“Well, all the emergency supplies are in that mountain of boxes over there, and they need to be stacked and put in the storage room.”

He smiled. “Is that a hint?”

“You know I don't hint. Take your coats off and get going.”

They did as ordered, moving and stacking boxes for the next hour. Some had to be opened so the contents could be checked, noted on Tamar's inventory sheets, and put away. First-­aid items and cases of bottled water were put in one place; food, paper cups and plates, and plastic utensils in another. They stacked cots, pushed two popcorn machines into place, hooked up the new dishwasher and the huge fridge, while the ladies filled the three new freezers with everything from hot dogs and Popsicles to ice packs.

After they'd finished and been given permission to go on their way, Trent led Bobby down to the gym with its brand-­new hoops, volleyball nets, and shuffleboard courts.

“You all don't need the outside world, do you?” Bobby asked as they made their way back outside to Trent's truck.

“Not really. This is how our communities functioned during segregation. Everything needed to be on-­site because we weren't allowed access anywhere. But in truth we're no different from all small towns. The only thing we don't have anymore is our own post office. It used to operate out of a dugout.”

“What's a dugout?”

“A place dug out of the ground on the side of a hill. The original Dusters lived in them the first few years, after founding Henry Adams.”

“What?”

As they drove back to the Power Plant, Trent gave Bobby a quick history lesson. When he'd finished, Bobby shook his head. “I don't know if I could've lived in a place underground.”

“Many of the Dusters said they preferred living underground in Kansas to dying aboveground in the places they moved from. It was pretty terrible in the South back then.”

“Where's the post office now?”

“Franklin.”

“Can I ask you something? If it's too personal you don't have to answer.”

“Okay.”

“What made you decide to marry your wife?”

That surprised him. “I wanted her to be with me for the rest of my life.”

“You didn't have to marry her to do that, though, did you?”

“No, but for me it was about making that public statement. I wanted the world to know that she held my heart. So to do that we had the wedding, said the vows, signed the papers. Family and friends were there to bear witness. If I could've gotten a bullhorn and stood on top of the Empire State Building to let ­people know how much I love her, I would've.” He glanced at Bobby. “Marrying her was also a way to ensure our sons' futures. If I drop dead tomorrow, I know my boys will get all the financial benefits they're entitled to because their mother and I are marred in the eyes of the law.”

He fell silent, giving Bobby time to process his words before asking, “You thinking about marrying somebody?”

Bobby cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

“If I can help, let me know.”

“I will, but can you keep it to yourself for now? I want to think about it some more.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.”

Trent was pleased that the young man was contemplating making the ultimate commitment. Watching the way he and Kelly interacted, he could see how much they cared for each other, and there was no doubt that Bobby truly loved the twins. The ­people of Henry Adams would love to bear witness at another wedding, especially one that wouldn't involve Trent's crazy relatives, the Oklahoma Julys.

For the rest of the day, Bobby thought about Trent's response. There was no question that he loved Kiki and wanted to be with her forever, but would it change them? He knew ­couples back home whose relationships had changed in every way once they got married. Some of the guys chafed at the idea that they couldn't play around anymore, so they did it on the down-­low. Some of the girls got real bossy and started acting like they'd been magically changed into the guy's mama, dictating who they could hang with, where they could go, and what time they had to be home. He didn't see Kiki turning crazy as a result of a ring, but it was something to consider. Or was it? She'd never cheated on him as far as he knew, and yeah, he'd slipped a ­couple of times—­that's what guys did—­but he hadn't since the pregnancy, and certainly not after the twins were born. He had no plans to go down that road again.

Trent's words echoed in his head.
If I could've gotten a bullhorn and stood on top of the Empire State Building to let ­people know how much I love her, I would've.
Truthfully, that was how Bobby felt.

He watched Kiki now as she sat on the couch, using a yellow legal pad to compile the list of supplies she'd be ordering to get her hair place up and running. Ms. Bernadine and the other ladies decided she could use one of the large metal storage units behind the rec center as her place of operation temporarily, until a permanent location could be built in the spring. She was ecstatic, and he was happy for her.

She'd hung with him through so much over the years: the gang, the struggle to make ends meet, the daily grind of being poor. Because of her love for him, she'd been kicked out of the house by her mother and stopped going to church, yet she'd never once complained—­about anything. Something else Trent said right after they met came to mind:
A man is only as strong as the woman who holds him.
Because of Kiki, Bobby was the strongest man he knew. It was time to honor that by letting the world know.

Entering the Dog that evening, Bernadine spotted Diane and Rance at a booth. Before joining them, she took a moment to speak privately with Rocky and Mal in his office, letting them know of the plan she'd put together with Kyle Dalton.

“What time is Kyle coming?” Rocky asked, once Bernadine shared the details.

“He said no later than seven, and it's almost quarter of now.”

Mal chuckled. “Never been part of a superspy mission before, Bernadine. Remind me to stay on your good side.”

“Let's just hope it works.”

Upon joining Diane and Rance, she asked him. “Did you find a place to stay?”

“I did,” he replied. “Definitely not a five-­star, but it'll work for the short time I'll be here.”

Diane's jaw dropped. “Short? I thought you were staying until New Year's Day.”

He shook his head. “No. I have to be in London the day after tomorrow. I'll be flying out tomorrow afternoon. I'm sorry, darling.”

Never to be heard from again, Bernadine thought to herself. Learning Diane was an unemployed custodian and not Bernadine's vice president meant he'd be moving on.

Rocky approached the table. “Hi Diane. Good to see you.” She nodded a greeting to Rance, who took one look at her beauty and stared with wide eyes.

He instantly thrust out his hand. “Rance Gordon.”

She didn't offer hers. “Hi. Rocky. Nice to meet you. Take a moment to look over the menus, and I'll be right back.”

Staring after her, Rance said, “This little place is filled with beautiful women.”

Diane tittered.

Bernadine didn't.

Kyle Dalton entered the Dog a few minutes later and took a seat on the far side of the room. He met Bernadine's eyes briefly. He glanced at Rance as if in passing, but she saw him take a good look before greeting Mal, who'd come to his table to take his order.

“So, what's happening in London, Rance?” she asked casually, looking over the menu.

“My partners are meeting with some men from Helsinki about a hotel complex slated to be built in Dubai.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“More like routine, but they need my expertise, which is why I have to go.”

Diane pouted prettily. “I was looking forward to you being with me for Christmas.”

He leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I'll be back just as soon as I can. This meeting shouldn't take more than a day or two. I'll make sure I call.”

“You'd better.”

Rocky came back a few minutes later to take their order, and after she left again, he asked Bernadine, “How in the world did you wind up owning the town?” Bernadine saw no harm in telling the story.

“And you brought in at-­risk kids?” he asked at one point.

“Yes.”

“How noble. You must've had some divorce settlement. What business is your ex-­husband in?”

“Oil,” Diane volunteered.

Rocky returned with their plates, and they began their meal. While they ate, Diane asked Rance about his travels. To hear him tell it, he'd been all over the world, dispensing venture capital like Santa delivering toys. He regaled her with a list of the five-­star hotels he'd supposedly stayed in: the Ritz-­Carlton in Hong Kong, the Nam Hai in Vietnam, and the Amankora in Bhutan.

“You ever stayed at any of those places?” Diane asked Bernadine.

She had, but she shook her head. “No. Way too rich for my blood.”

“I'm sure you can afford to stay wherever you want,” Rance countered smoothly. “Are you involved with anyone? Gorgeous woman like yourself probably has to beat the men off with your Hermès bag.”

Again it was Diane who answered. “She's hooked up with that guy over there.” She pointed out Mal.

“Really?” The look on Rance's face said he found Mal lacking.

And so it went, him trying to find out just how much money she had, if she and Mal were serious so he could ascertain his chances of getting his hands on her wallet, and her politely changing the subject.

By the end of the meal she couldn't wait to be rid of them both. Finally Diane said, “Honey, we need to get you back to your hotel.”

“I doubt it should be called that, but I agree. I need to make some calls to my office.”

They stood and put on their coats.

“Have a good evening, Bernadine,” Rance said.

“You, too.”

Diane smiled. “Don't wait up.”

Bernadine didn't reply, but inwardly wondered how her sister could be so incredibly clueless. She might not consider herself vulnerable—­but Bernadine did and Rance certainly did, too.

Once they'd gone, she glanced out of the window beside the booth, watching them drive off. Satisfied they wouldn't be returning, she looked over at Kyle. He stood and, after grabbing his coat, walked to her table. In his hand was one of the Dog's large, clean linen napkins. Using the napkin, he carefully picked up Rance's silverware and glass, wrapped them in the napkin, and placed them in a brown paper bag he took from his pocket. After putting on his coat, he gave her a wink and made his way to the exit.

Mal came to the booth. “Do you really think that fancy-­pants is wanted?”

“If not, I'll eat my hat.”

“Great plan.”

“I think so too, if I must say so myself. Now, I'm going to go home and wait for Kyle to call. With any luck it shouldn't be too long.”

“Let me know as soon as you hear anything, Ms. Mastermind.”

“Will do.” She gave him a quick kiss and headed to her truck.

Driving home, she didn't feel guilty in the least for what she'd set in motion. Rance Gordon, for sure not his real name, was wanted for something, somewhere, and it wouldn't be for jaywalking. She knew she was right because after her divorce, she'd done a fair amount of traveling both domestically and abroad and no matter her destination there were men both young and old waiting to target her as prey. It got to the point where she could pick them out from across a room, along a stretch of beach, or in a hotel lobby. She'd never said anything to Diane about it because there'd never been a need.

Now those experiences had come in handy. Rance was wanted, more than likely for fraud, and with the help of Kyle's FBI fingerprint databases, it would be proven. Diane was going to throw a fit when her so-­called venture capitalist lover was picked up and hauled off to the pokey, but she'd get over it. And with him out of her life, she could concentrate on finding a damn job.