Texas Heat (26 page)

“Mr. Jacobsen pays me extra for design work. I don't mind doing all of this. Besides, design consultants don't get benefits. Your package was what I needed. I'm only too glad to help out. The pay's good, too.” Eileen grinned. “How else do you think I could get a mink coat like your wife's?”

“You could get some guy to guy it for you.” Cary laughed as he closed the door behind him. Cute kid. Lots of savvy. He wondered if Jacobsen had a thing going with her.

Cary grinned as he made his way through the mud holes back to the work area. He understood the Eileen Farrells of this world; he, too, had had to claw his way off the bottom. It had to be harder for a woman. Inside of a month Eileen Farrell had taken over, and she was fast proving herself an indispensable member of his team. With right clothes and the right connections, it would be clear sailing for the little girl who'd come from a small town under the x in Texas.

The really funny part of the whole thing was, she was smart as a whip, and she had a brain like a calculator. Beauty and brains. In a year probably she'd be asking for a slice of the pie; he could almost guarantee it. And if she got that far, he'd vote in her favor.

He had to remember to ask Amelia what she thought of Eileen. Amelia knew women almost as well as he knew men. He really respected her opinions. They'd compare notes and then make a wager like they usually did. Half the time Amelia won and half the time he won. Good odds.

 

A week before Christmas a festive air settled over Sunbridge. Garlands of balsam decorated the stairway and mantels. Mistletoe hung in open doorways. A monstrous twelve-foot blue spruce waited in the corner for its branches to settle in preparation of tree-trimming night. Aromas of baked cookies and spice cake drifted about, greeting each person who entered the house. Gaily wrapped packages were propped on chairs and in corners waiting to go under the tree. Fragrant pinecones burned in the fireplace. At last, Christmas was about to arrive.

Sunbridge's guest list would be identical to the one for Maggie's Fourth of July bash. She was pleased. Just this morning she'd received a letter from Rand saying he would definitely arrive Christmas Eve.

Since that morning in Rand's room, letters had gone back and forth between England and the States on a daily basis. Long letters, pouring out doubts, reaffirming affections, but always excluding the word “love” except in closing. “Love, Maggie,” she would write, or sometimes “Love, your Maggie,” remembering the way he had said to her that morning, “Maggie, my Maggie.”

Their favorite topics were each other—how one felt about this, the other about that—and questions about the way the family would either accept what they had come to mean to each other or not. The “not” always caused the greatest alarm, the deepest distress.

The past few letters had broached the subject of Cranston and Cole and the wisdom of not allowing anything to interfere with Maggie's divorce. As a result, they'd decided they would have to remain “discreet.” Logically—and because they both wanted it so desperately—discreet meant sacrifice. And since they'd promised each other to discreetly sacrifice their desires, there was no reason Rand shouldn't come to Sunbridge at Christmas. Logical, reasonable, adult—and so very, very dangerous. The day Maggie received Rand's confirming letter, the smile stayed on her lips all day.

Everyone would be home for dinner this evening. It seemed as though the Christmas spirit was drawing the family closer together, although in Cary and Amelia's case, the weather probably had more to do with it. As far as Maggie knew, the site was closed for a few days because of the last storm. Susan, pounds heavier but looking wonderful, was taking her meals downstairs now, along with the boys, who chatted and bantered: Even Cole was making an effort to be civil. He obviously wanted to very much be allowed to go to New York with his cousin the day after Christmas.

It was a heavy, cold-weather Texas meal. Beef stew cooked in the old iron pot for seven hours, savory and incomparable. There was corn bread and sourdough biscuits, along with asparagus and a green salad. Three meringue pies dotted the sideboard: banana cream, coconut custard, and lemon.

As Martha ladled out the stew, Maggie asked everyone at the table, “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?” The diners responded with sheepish looks, nods of agreement, and hoots of displeasure for the reminder.

“I finished yesterday. Now all I have to do is wrap.” Maggie smiled victoriously. “I think I bought out the stores.”

“I ordered through the catalogues,” said Susan, “and everything arrived except one item. I plan to finish wrapping this evening.” She sighed. “If I don't eat too much and fall asleep, that is.”

“I'm done,” Cary boasted. “Finished last week, as a matter of fact.” No need to tell anyone he'd slipped Eileen his charge cards to do his shopping.

Amelia groaned. “I've been so busy with the house and all, I lost track of time. I've got the major portion to go. I'm hitting the stores tomorrow as soon as they open.”

“I'm almost finished,” Riley volunteered. “I'm waiting for something from home.”

Cole looked up and around the table. “I didn't start yet.”

“I hope everyone remembers everyone. Rand will be here, Mam and Thad, and Sawyer, although she hasn't said definitely that she's coming.”

“Maggie, would you mind if we invited someone from the outside?” Cary asked.

“For dinner? The more the merrier. Who do you have in mind? Your friends, Sherm and Clara Alphin?”

“No, they'll be in North Carolina with their grandchildren. Not just for dinner, either. I was thinking of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The girl in our office, Eileen Farrell. She'll be alone in an empty condo with a plastic tree. This family is so informal, I thought it would be nice for her to be with a big family.”

Maggie could feel Amelia's stillness and was afraid to look at her. The request surprised her, and there was no way she could refuse. “Of course. Sharing is what Christmas is all about. That means, of course, that I'm not done shopping. You said her name is Eileen? I'll pick up a few things, cologne, a scarf, a book, so she has presents to open. Shall I send her an invitation, or will you take care of it?”

“I've already asked her. I knew you'd say yes. You'll like her. Amelia thinks she's great. We'd be lost without her at the site, I can tell you that.”

Riley looked from Cary to his aunt Amelia, who was sitting beside him. He could hear her grinding her teeth. He went back to the asparagus he hated. Adults sure had a funny way of showing approval.

“She designs elevators and acts as a major domo of sorts,” Amelia said breezily. “She's even gotten Cary and the others to wear a beeper. Now he can be paged anytime of the day or night.”

“I'm impressed.” Maggie laughed. “Where's she from, Cary?”

“Under the x in Texas,” He laughed. “She went to some design school in New York. She knows her business, all right. Let me tell you what that little filly did.”

Amelia sucked in her breath. She could feel Riley watching her. Filly? Is that what they said under the x?

There was a chorus of “What?” from around the table.

“She asked for a contract. I told you she's no fool. She knows this project is going to take almost ten years to completion. She wants to be sure she gets her share.”

“Does she want a percentage, too?” Amelia asked, her voice cool and controlled.

“It came up in the discussion,” Cary said vaguely.

“How much?” This time she didn't try to control her tone of voice.

“One percent, a half. No one decided. I'm not sure it's a good idea. I don't mind the contract.”

“I thought all of the investors had to put in a certain amount of money. You did say that, didn't you?”

“Hell, yes.”

“It would seem to me that if she's going to be given a percentage, you should take her off salary. You're paying her handsomely now. What was it you started out with, four fifty? It's up to seven hundred now, I believe. Elevator design pays extra.”

Maggie met Susan's concerned glance across the table. Striving to keep her voice casual, she said carefully, “I thought the first thing you learned in business is you never, ever, under any circumstance, give anything away.”

“Maggie's right,” Susan said tightly. “Running an office and designing elevators hardly seems enough of a reason to give the woman a percentage. You ought to fire her and let Amelia run the office. She'd be a whiz.”

“I offered,” Amelia said coolly.

“I told you, Amelia, I didn't want you working out there. You have your own thing going with the house. You wouldn't have the time. It's not good for a husband and wife to work together. Look, since you all seem opposed to the percentage business, I'll vote it down. Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea for her to come for Christmas.”

Amelia looked around the table. No one said anything. Maggie didn't reinforce the invitation. Susan looked glum, and the boys had no opinions. It was up to her, and she would have to be careful. “On the contrary, Cary, I think Eileen should come. She should get to know us. I'll buy her something special from both of us.”

Maggie sighed with relief. Cary looked at his plate. Amelia had just bailed him out of a touchy situation, and he knew it. He'd never make that mistake again.

 

“Billie, I'm not sure we're going to make it to the airport,” Thad said in a worried tone. “The Bronco will make it if the plows have been out, but I'm not sure the planes will be taking off. Call again.”

Billie called and repeated the message. “United is still flying the friendly skies. Look, Thad, I'm not going to be upset if we can't get to Austin. I'd kind of like to have Christmas here with just you and the dogs. It seems we're always somewhere else at Christmastime. I can open my present here as well as there. You did get me a present, didn't you?” Billie teased.

“I thought you wanted to see Sawyer. And to see how Susan is progressing. And to check on the Maggie and Rand thing. Not to mention Riley and Cole.”

“I do, I do, but I can do that after Christmas. After all, our safety is the most important thing. What d'ya say, let's stay home.”

“Lady, did I ever tell you how happy you make me?”

Billie laughed. “I know now. Why didn't you just come out and say you didn't want to go? I'd've understood.”

“It's not that I don't want to go; it's that I'd rather stay here. Our tree is up and I want both of us to enjoy it.
Us,
Billie.”

“I only said I wanted to go because I thought you wanted to get away from all the politics and pressure up here. We could pretend we're gone, though. Let's just snuggle in. We have plenty of food; leave the Bronco in the garage. There won't be anyone driving by to see our lights, so we're safe. They all think we're going since we've been talking about it for the past month. Better yet, let's disconnect the phone.”

“After you call your family.”

“Let's do that right now.”

“While you do that, I'm going up in the attic to get down my old sled. It's a Flexible Flyer, you know. I'm going to wax the runners tonight and pull you all over the farm tomorrow.”

“Really, Thad!” Billie hugged her husband, love shining in her eyes.

“Well, maybe not all over the farm. You have put on a few pounds. We could take turns.”

“Already you're wimping out. When you get tired pulling me, we can take a spin on the snowmobiles. I'm so glad we aren't going.”

The relief on Billie's face was almost comical. Thad grimaced. “We must be getting out of sync here. Usually, I know what you're thinking and visa versa.”

“It's the family, Thad. You know, you feel guilty. But I'm sure they won't even miss us. They'll toast us and then go on about their holiday activities.”

“Aren't you being a little hard on them?”

“Not at all. That's the way it is. Go get your sled while I try to call Sawyer. I know she's avoiding me, but I'm going to try.”

Adam Jarvis answered the phone. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Kingsley.”

“The same to you, Adam. Is Sawyer there?”

Adam's brief hesitation told Billie the girl was there but wasn't taking any calls. She couldn't call Adam a liar, and she wanted to thrash Sawyer within an inch of her life. Why was she being so stubborn? “Will you give her a message, Adam? Tell her Thad and I won't be going to Sunbridge for the holidays. We're having an awful storm here and we expect the planes will be grounded momentarily. Ask her if she'll call me back so I can wish her a Merry Christmas. Oh, and tell her I sent her gifts ahead to Sunbridge so I wouldn't have to carry them on the plane. Have a happy holiday, Adam.”

“You too, Mrs. Kingsley.”

Maggie was next on Billie's list. She had just explained the situation and heard Maggie squeal, “Oh, no, Mam, I was so counting on you and Thad! I understand—” when the phone went dead. Billie looked at the receiver in her hand and burst out laughing.

“We're cut off from the world,” Billie yelled to Thad, who was up in the attic. “The phone just went dead.”

“My God, do you mean it's really just you and me and the old Flex and the dogs?”

“You got it,” Billie chortled. “Do you want me to make some popcorn?”

“Hell, no. Go put that lacy green thing on. We'll sit in front of the fire and I'll wax the runners on the sled.”

“What are you going to put on?”