Texas rich (47 page)

An affair with Jordan. It was something to think about. She wondered what it would be like to make love with him in his beautiful bedroom. Jordan was nothing like Moss. Jordan the man, the artist. Jordan the lover. And when it was over, because affairs were always over at some point, what would be left? Bitterness? Disappointment? Were the ashes of an affair as cold and hostile as the ashes of a neglected marriage?

As the miles spun on beneath the wheels of her car so did her thoughts. Before she reached home she knew without doubt that a woman didn't just fall into a man's arms, innocent and unaware. Not a married woman. It was a deliberate act, with eyes open, admissions made. Billie faced the fact that she needed a man to want her. She needed to be held, to hear the soft, wonderful promises of early love. She hungered for a kind word, a loving hand. But she also knew that in the end, she would be the one to break it off. Never again would she give herself as completely to a man as she had to Moss.

BiUie parked her soldier-blue car beside Moss's racy Porsche. He was home. Before she made the decision to allow herself to fall into Jordan's arms, she'd try once more to talk to Moss. To get closer to him, to look for that little glimmer that would let her know he still wanted her and their marriage. Her steps faltered. It was really Moss she wanted; it was Moss she would always want. She still loved him beyond reason. How much

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of herself did that leave for Jordan? Would she lie in his arms and pretend he was Moss? Her heels tapped across the tiles in the front hall. Suddenly she wanted to see Moss, have him smile at her. After all these years, how could he still have this effect on her? Still make her pulses race and her arms ache to hold him? She must be a fool.

"Make me a gin and tonic, please, Charlotte, and bring it out on the terrace," Billie murmured distractedly. She wanted a little more time to think before approaching Moss. Get her lines down.

She had first discovered his unfaithfulness years before, but the pain was as fresh as if it had been yesterday. She'd been so wounded, so humiliated, she'd wanted to die. What was she lacking that had made him look elsewhere? The anger, when it came, had been brutal, eating at her like a cancer. She'd never really recovered.

It had been her decision, made in the solitary darkness of her bedroom, not to confront Moss. His infidelity was a passing thing, she promised herself. He would come back to her and their marriage would be as strong as ever. Sometimes affairs strengthened marriages. She would forgive.. .but she would never forget. That would be her punishment; she had to be at fault somewhere.

After the first time, Billie was aware of every one of her husband's indiscretions. Each time, he would return to her, as loving and kind as in the early days of their marriage. He would bring her expensive gifts, share her bed three times a week, whisper beautiful words in her ear. She endured because she loved her husband.

The gin and tonic was finished, and Billie set the glass down firmly. It was time to seek out her husband. She shoved trembling hands into the pockets of her jacket. It was all so ridiculous she wanted to cry.

"Mam? Look, Pap, Mam is here!" Riley exclaimed.

"Billie, what brings you down here? Is something wrong?" Moss asked.

"What could possibly be wrong in this paradise called Sun-bridge?" Billie responded with forced cheerfulness. "Riley, I want to talk to your father for a few minutes. Why don't you go to the kitchen and ask Charlotte to make us some coffee."

Billie was alone with Moss. She looked at him through what she hoped were objective eyes. Still tall and rangy, more

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rugged-looking now, still so damned handsome. Hair thick, dark, a frosting of silver at the temples, and those blue eyes that could reach into her heart. But most remarkable about her husband was the power he exuded. Little wonder women found him so attractive. Even in this little room, amid a mess of papers and school pennants and trophies that he'd never removed, Moss was a powerful man. It was in the set of his shoulders beneath his finely knit sweater, in the tone of his voice and the light in his eyes.

She took a breath, knowing she must speak now before the moment and the will were gone. "Moss, what did you think of the party last night?"

"It was nice. Did you enjoy yourself? Pap went all out for you. I hope you thanked the old boy."

"Yes, it was nice. And yes, I thanked Seth. But it would've been nicer if you'd spent some time with me. After all, it was my birthday."

"Are you complaining?" Moss asked coolly, turning to face her.

"No— Yes, yes I am. I was embarrassed and I could see people were whispering. Why were they whispering. Moss?"

"How the hell should I know, Billie? You know I've never been much good at playing the attentive husband. I just don't know how."

"Perhaps you don't, but you're not stupid. I asked you why people were whispering."

"You're just imagining things." He turned back to his desk. At this point in any other conversation with him, Billie would have considered herself dismissed. Not this time.

"I asked you a question. Moss."

Moss's hairs prickled on the back of his neck. There was something going on here. This interrogation was unlike Billie. He mrned to face her once again, all his attention focused on her now. The light from the window behind him fell on her face, making it golden and radiant, illuminating her hair and the clear sweep of her brow. She was beautiful, this wife of his, his Billie. She was also upset.

Warmth crept up from her neck to bloom on her cheeks. "I waited for you. Moss," she whispered. "I waited all night. I wanted you. Something's wrong. Moss. We seem to be losing each other and I don't know why and it frightens me."

Billie heard herself choke. Lord, she hadn't meant it to

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sound as though she were begging. But wasn't that exactly what she was doing? Begging Moss to save her from falling into Jordan Marsh's arms?

"Billie, we're old married folks now. The honeymoon doesn't last forever. We're settled in. You know, old shoes."

"Moss, I don't want an old shoe. I didn't ever want to lose what we had. It's like dying. When was the last time you came to the room we used to share? Do you even remember? We need to talk, to conmiunicate. We have children who need us, together. We were happy once. Tell me what's wrong. Tell me what I've done that you don't want me anymore."

She hadn't wanted it to pour out like this; she hadn't wanted to sound so lost, so desperate. Yet it had to be said and now was the time. Perhaps he didn't know how he'd hurt her.

"Billie, what's all this talk about communicating? You sound like one of those beatniks."

"And you sound like a man with something to hide. Is there someone else. Moss? Do you love her?"^

"You're never here, Billie. You're always busy with your classes, the children, or whatever it is you women do. I have pressures, commitments. The ranch, the business. They're all taking their toll. Do you see this mess here?" he said, indicating the shelves and desk filled to overflowing with ledgers, charts, and blueprints. "I'm only one man. Pap is depending on me."

"I understand all that, but you could get someone to help you. Yes, I've been busy. It's the only way I can get through the days. What about the nights. Moss? I'm not busy at night, but you are. You haven't answered my question. Have you found someone else? If you have, tell me. We have to talk."

"We are talking. You just don't like what I'm saying." She knew. Christ, she knew and she had never said a word. That was like Billie. Ignore it and it would go away. He wondered if Agnes knew. "No, I haven't found anyone else. We're married, Billie. We'll always be married. You should know that. We have a commitment."

"If that's true, why don't we make love? You're a very virile man. We last made love two months ago and I had to hogtie you even then. I don't like this position you've placed me in. I don't like it at all." Some of the resolve had come back into Billie's voice. She spoke more firmly. "The fact that you aren't interested in making love with me can only mean one thing. You're involved somewhere else. We should be adult enough to discuss it."

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"All the little nitty-gritty details, is that what you want to know? What color was the lace on her underwear? Was she exciting? Is that what you want to know?"

"Moss!" Billie said, shocked. "No. No, I don't want to know. All I want us to do is talk. About the children. Us. Our lives. Something's wrong. Can't you feel it? Can't you see that we've drifted so far apart that if we don't do something soon, it will be too late?"

"Billie, Billie." Moss sighed. "Where in the world do you get these notions? Nothing has changed. We've gotten older; the children are growing up. You have your interests and I have mine. That's the way marriage is. That's the way it was for my parents. I know you lost your father when you were young so you have nothing to compare to. Trust me, BiUie. We're fine. Nothing is wrong. You're a romantic. You thought the honeymoon would last forever. Mam was sort of like that until Pap told her the way it was."

Billie suddenly felt smothered by self-doubt. The words stuck, hard and cutting, in her throat. "I'm afraid. Moss, that that isn't good enough for me. I want more. I want us to be a family, a united family. Maggie needs you. Don't you see what you're doing to her, have done to her? You're just like Seth and the way he treated Amelia. All you think about or care about is Riley—you should remember you have two other children. Maggie especially needs—"

"To be left alone," Moss finished for her. "You're right. She is like Amelia. She's a little wild and willful, but she'll settle down. The more we hound her, the worse she'll be. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. Your problem is you worry too much, Billie. Relax, enjoy life a little."

"Like you do. Moss?" Her tone was bitter, accusing.

His gaze locked with hers. "Yes, like I do."

"All right, Moss, that's exactly what I'll do." Scalding tears of humiliation and frustration were about to escape down her cheeks. He was daring her to follow in his footsteps and have an affair! Only he didn't believe she had the guts to do it. Didn't believe in his heart that he could ever lose her. He was so certain that her emotional world began and ended with him, and the occasional crumbs he threw her.

Where had she gone wrong? Hadn't she loved enough? Hadn't she given enough? Billie shrank into herself. None of it made sense.

Moss went to Billie and lifted her chin with a tender hand.

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"Billie, darling, don't look so defeated. We're all right, and we'll always be all right. You're my wife and you'll always belong to me. Don't you know that?"

Before she could shame herself by falling into his arms and begging for his love, his touch, Billie stepped back and turned away from Moss, her shoulders square, her head high, leaving the room that had become her husband's haven.

He sighed with weariness, just the way she sighed over Maggie. "Where are you going, Billie? I thought you said you wanted to talk.Come back here."

"I'm going to enjoy life, Moss, exactly as you suggested. I'm going to be just like you." She closed the door quietly behind her.

Moss sat silently, fighting the impulse to run after her. He always felt this way when he couldn't maintain complete control over the things and people that were his. But something told him that running after Billie would be useless, that she was too hurt, too wounded, and that it was his fault. He realized what it had cost her to come down here and to practically beg him to pay more attention to her, to the family. He was sorry for it but he hated to have demands placed on him. Billie had always given him enough room to spread his wings, to pursue his own interests. What had changed?

She sounded desperate. He guessed he should pay more attention to her, be more loving. Hell, he did love her, in his own way. Bilhe was probably the best thing that had ever happened to him. Because of Billie he had Riley, and God only knew how much he loved that boy.

Moss turned to face the clutter of his desk. As soon as he finished up here he'd go upstairs. A long, loving time with Billie would be just the ticket to get things back on an even keel. He would apologize. Billie was very forgiving. Maybe afterward they'd have dinner brought up to their room and have that long talk about Maggie. That would be good; that would clinch things with Billie and she'd be happy again.

There was a tap at the door and Riley peeked in, several books in his hand. "What've you got there, son?"

"Schoolwork. I thought you'd help me with this science project. The one who comes in with the best poster on how a pump works will get a prize. Will you help me. Pap?"

"A prize?" Moss said thoughtfully. "Have you got any ideas of what kind of pump you want to do?" He smiled, remem-

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bering the pump he'd designed when he was about Riley's age. The boy was a chip off the old block and Moss puffed with pride.

"I thought I'd show a windmill and how it takes energy from the wind to pump water for the cattle. How's that sound, Pap?"

Moss was already making room on his desk for Riley's books. "Sounds okay to me. But you're a Coleman, Riley. Why don't we show how oil is pumped from the ground?"

Riley dumped his books on the desk in the space Moss had cleared. He had wanted to do a windmill pumping water for cattle. Cows were nice and he loved animals. "Sounds good to me, Pap. We'll show an oil well."

"That's good, son. Whenever you do anything it should be something important. Oil is important. We use it for fuel and it heats our houses and flies our planes "

In her room, Billie kicked off her shoes and looked around at the result of the Coleman money. None of it made her happy. Not the satin drapes, the matching bedspread, the antique furniture, the closets filled with clothes. She'd be happy in a cozy two-room apartment if it meant she could lie in Moss's arms each night. That was the dream she'd concocted when she'd first met him, before she knew about the Colemans and their money and their power. Moss had made her think he was just a ranch hand, a dirt farmer, anything but what he really was. And damn her soul, she had loved him. She still loved him. Nothing would make her happier than to have him come to her now, this minute, to take her into his arms and love her.

The phone jingled musically on the bedstand. Once, twice, three times. Charlotte must be out of earshot. Billie picked it up and held the receiver to her ear. "Hello."

"Mrs. Coleman, please. This is Hester Eastland, from the Perret School."

"Yes, Mrs. Eastland, this is Mrs. Coleman. Is anything wrong?"

"We were wondering about Margaret, Mrs. Coleman. Is she feeling better? She hasn't been to school today."

"I should have called you, Mrs. Eastland. Maggie went away with Carol Lambert and her family to Galveston for the weekend. I'm terribly sorry I didn't notify you." Billie's temper rose. Damn Maggie! She hadn't said a word about not going to school. Billie had just assumed the Lamberts wouldn't be leaving until the end of the day. And that was another thing.

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She'd intended to call Dottie Lambert and thank her for inviting Maggie along. Everything seemed to be getting out of hand; she was losing her grip on things because she was so wrapped up in her own misery.

"I don't understand, Mrs. Coleman. Carol Lambert is in school today. She brought some papers down to my office just a few minutes ago. Mrs. Coleman, don't you know where your daughter is?"

"Lguess I don't. I thought she was going to school today, but she also said something about going shopping. I'm certain there's nothing to be alarmed about."

"Mrs. Coleman, as you know, Margaret has been a disciplinary problem in the past. I assure you, our only concern is for your daughter. However, if you're certain there's no problem..."

"There's no problem, Mrs. Eastland." She replaced the receiver, a sour grimace on her face. It was no good calling Susan at her school to see if she knew where Maggie was. And Riley would clamp his mouth shut out of loyalty, the way he always did. There was nothing she could do but wait. Then a thought occurred to her. She lifted the receiver again and dialed the Lamberts' phone number.

"Hello, Dottie? Billie Coleman." Something cautioned Bil-lie to tread easily. It would never do to embarrass the woman. "I was wondering if when you're in Galveston you'd be doing any shopping. Moss is so fond of those homemade chocolates from that little shop in town."

"Why, I'd be glad to pick some up for you next time we get down there, but I don't know when it'll be. Zachary has been recovering from a nasty case of chicken pox. Lands alive! I can't remember when I last left this house! And all the poor boy is doing is scratching—I'm afraid he'll scar himself for life."

Billie listened impatiently to Dottie Lambert's dissertation, her mind racing. The Lamberts hadn't made any last-minute change in plans if Zachary had been down with the pox for more than a week. There had been no plans. Where was Maggie? Had she gone shopping? Why had she lied?

When Billie at last was able to extricate herself, she dropped onto the chaise to still the quaking of her knees. She was worried about her child, but it hadn't yet bloomed into fright. There were still several hours until dinner. Maggie would come home then. She would. She must.

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A headache was building and would soon be a full-blown migraine. Then she'd be unable to cope with anything. Billie leaned back, yearning for sleep. Maggie would come home for dinner....

Uiiiiiii CHAPTER }}}})}}}} TWENTY-TWO ^^^''''^^

Rear Admiral Thaddeus Kingsley arrived Saturday morning for one of his impromptu visits just as the Colemans were finishing breakfast. Even Seth and Agnes were sitting down for a late cup of coffee. Maggie's chair was conspicuously vacant. Moss's family, all together breakfasting on the terrace on a warm June morning. The oldest child was missing and everyone behaved as though it didn't matter. Billie's head pounded fiercely. The huge Texas meal of steak and eggs and grits was congealing on her plate; the sight of it almost made her gag. She sipped her weak tea and lit a cigarette, not because she wanted to smoke but because it was something to do, a way to calm her fury.

Last night, when Maggie still hadn't returned home, Billie had told Moss after dinner about Mrs. Eastland's call from the school and the made-up Galveston story.

"What should we do?" Billie asked.

"What should we do? We wait. We simply wait. Perhaps you got it wrong, Billie. Perhaps you didn't understand Maggie and she was going over to some other friend's house."

"No, Moss, I didn't misunderstand. Maggie said she was going with the Lamberts to Galveston. She even threatened to go whether she had my approval or not. I called Dottie Lambert—^Zachary has the chicken pox. There never were any plans for Galveston this weekend."

"What's goin' on in here?" Seth's voice demanded from the doorway of the living room, arriving, as usual, at the least opportune moment. "Moss, what's the matter with your wife? She's shaking like a dog shitting peach pits."

Billie turned on her father-in-law. "You may address your questions directly to me when I'm present, Seth. I do know

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how to speak for myself." Then, turning back to Moss: "I think we should call the police. I want to know where my daughter is!"

"Which daughter?" Seth growled. "Don't tell me. It's that Maggie. Just like Amelia, a thom in a man's side. What's she done this time?"

Quickly, Moss outlined the situation for his father.

"And you say you called the Lamberts? What kind of fool are you, little gal? There's no call to go around making fools of us all. Calling the Lamberts and letting them know Maggie can't be trusted! That was a danm fool thing you did!" Seth pounded his cane onto the parquet floor. "And we won't be calling in the sheriff. Why, our name'd be spread through the county inside of twenty minutes. You're her mother. Why don't you kiiow where she is?"

And so it had been settled. They would all wait until Maggie came home under her own steam. The evening had been endless for Billie and when Moss had come to her bedroom, suggesting he join her, she'd been so furious at his lack of concern for Maggie and for what she herself was feeling that she'd slammed the door in his face.

A picture of Maggie lying in a roadside ditch with her face battered was so vivid that Billie nearly choked on her cigarette. A savage burst of hatred for the Colemans turned her face crimson. She shouldn't be sitting here calmly at the breakfast table, knowing nothing. Where was Maggie? Where?

Moss was excited over Thad's arrival, and the two men embraced each other unashamedly. Thad was tanned and lean, with the same strong-featured good looks and the same quiet ways. It had been almost a year since Billie had seen him. Seth glowered sullenly but shook hands. Thad Kingsley, rear admiral. A power. And the talk was he would be vice admiral before long. Moss's long-range prediction that his friend would someday be head of the Pacific fleet was coming true and it was more than Seth could bear. He'd roared like an angry lion at each of Thad's promotions. He'd always compared his son with every other man he knew, and there were times when Thad had scored higher on Seth's invisible chalkboard. Billie took a certain pleasure in her father-in-law's dislike of Thad.

"Billie, it's impossible!" Thad exclaimed, bending over to kiss her cheek.

"What is?" she said.

"That you're more beautiful than when I saw you last. I'd

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keep a tight rein on this little filly, if I were you, Moss. You know what they say—'Never older, only better.' Billie is living proof."

"Why do you think I keep her penned up at Sunbridge?" Moss joked. The merriment didn't reach his eyes. Billie noticed and so did Thad.

He turned his attention to the children. "Lord, Susan, you're growing prettier every time I see you. Have they booked you for Carnegie Hall yet?"

Susan blushed prettily and bit her lip. She liked Pap's friend. He was always nice and didn't demand kisses, like some of the other people who came to the house. She secretly believed he looked almost exactly like Gary Cooper.

"Where's Maggie?" Thad said.

"Maggie is off with friends this weekend," Seth said coolly.

Thad recognized the lie and his gaze locked with Billie's for an instant before he reached out his hand to Riley. "It's nice to see you again, Riley. How are things? Still going up with your father and taking over the controls?"

"Yes sir! Pap's got a new Piper Cub and she's a beauty. She's equipped with the new autopilot Pap designed and I'd like to show her to you, if you'd like."

"I'd like that very much, Riley." Thad smiled, then turned to Moss. "I take it you've brought that autopilot into production, Moss. Have any of the airlines picked up on it yet? Or do you save your best achievements for the navy?"

"What do you think? I worked long and hard on that project and only finished the designs the first of the year. The Pentagon is interested, but they think the price is too high. They'll come around, though, as long as Sunbridge Enterprises holds the patent."

Billie looked blankly from one man to the other, and her glance included her son. Autopilot? Is that what Moss had been working so furiously on all last year? And when it had been completed and declared a success, why hadn't he told her? Resentfully, she realized how little she knew about her husband—and how much of himself he shared with others.

The heir to Sunbridge and his sister were excused and Seth and Agnes made their apologies: "pressing business." Sunbridge operated on a seven-day-a-week schedule. Thad was left alone with Moss and Billie. Charlotte brought half a scallop-edged melon for Thad and fresh coffee for everyone.

Thad thought he had never felt such tension in his life. Not

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even on the Big E before a strike. Billie looked beautiful but brittle, as if she were about to disintegrate into a million pieces any second. Moss was strung as tight as bailing wire on the south forty. Trouble in paradise. Big trouble. "So, what's new?" he asked casually.

"Nothing," Moss grunted.

"What could be new at Sunbridge?" Billie said brightly. Too brightly.

"Why do I have the feeling I stepped into the middle of something?" Thad asked bluntly.

"I'm worred about Maggie," Billie said defiantly. There, it was out. Let Moss defend it now, in front of Thad. Let his good friend see what a fme, wonderful father he was to his oldest daughter.

Moss's features froze and then he laughed. "Mothers! Mam was just like Billie."

"Not quite," Billie said fiercely. "Not quite. Moss. Don't think for one minute that I'm going to end up like Jessica. I'm going inside and I'm calling all of Maggie's friends. I should have done it yesterday. I don't care if you and Seth like it or not. I want to know." Without another word, Billie rose from the table and entered the house through the French doors.

Thad stared after her for a second. "What was that all about?" he asked. "I thought your father said the girl was with friends."

"She is. Billie got it into her head the girl is off hanky-pankying or something. She's a mother, Thad. All women are like that with their kids."

"Isn't that what motherhood is all about? It's the way you are with your son and the way your father was with you. Why aren't you concerned?"

"Maggie is just like Amelia was. Nothing any of us could do or say could tame my sister. She was willfial and determined to do what she wanted when she wanted. In the end, everything turned out fine. Maggie is just like her and it's nothing to get excited about."

When Billie returned to the terrace, her face was ashen. Thad jumped to his feet. "None of her friends know where she is. I've called half of Austin looking for her. Moss, we must call the poHce."

"Billie, get hold of yourself. If Maggie said she'd be back on Monday, she'll be back—and then you'll be standing there looking foolish. You're getting excited over nothing."

"Nothing! God only knows where she is or what she's doing.

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My God, Moss, she's not even fourteen! I never told you this. Moss, but Maggie's been in trouble before. Last April I had to go to the police station in Austin to get her. She'd been caught shoplifting. Fortunately, I was able to smooth things over by paying for what she took. Before that, she was riding around with some boys and drinking. That time she got off with a reprimand from the juvenile officer. I didn't say anything to you because I couldn't bear to see the hateful looks on your face. And your father's."

Moss laughed. "Maggie must have been reading Amelia's diary. She did exactly the same thing. Wait till Pap hears this."

"I know I can depend on you to tell him," Billie said frigidly.

"What do you want to do, Billie?" Thad asked quietly. "Do you want to go look for her?"

"That's exactly what I want to do. I just can't sit here and do nothing."

"Moss? You going?" Thad said.

"And let that little snippet make an ass out of me, too? No, thanks."

"I'll go with you."

Billie looked at Thad with grateful eyes, seeming not to hear Moss. "Let me get my purse and address book. My car is out front. I'll meet you there."

"This wasn't what I had in mind for the weekend," Moss grumbled.

"No, I don't suppose it was," said Thad. "What will you be doing while we're out looking for your daughter?"