Texas rich (48 page)

"I'm going riding with Riley. I'll take him out and show him your plane. That kid's going to be an aviator. You mark my words. He's a great kid, Thad. Chip off the old block." ^- "Just what the world needs, another Moss Coleman," Thad said coldly. He picked up his seabag and went into the house.

Ten minutes later his navy whites were hanging in good order in the guest room and he was dressed in Sunbridge's official uniform: Levi's jeans and a shirt.

Billie was waiting by her car, her slender fingers playing with the key ring. She held them out to him and then quickly slipped into the passenger seat. Thad slid behind the wheel, gunned the powerful engine, and guided the sports car out of the drive and onto the main highway. "Direct me."

"Head toward Austin. I'm so grateful, Thad. I've been worried out of my mind and had no one to turn to. As much as I hate to do it, I think we should go to the sheriff's office first."

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"I agree. Have you been having trouble with Maggie for very long?"

"I don't know if it's exactly trouble. Yes, I do know. She's always been a rebellious child. She's resentful of Riley and Susan and even of me. Perhaps resentful isn't the right word. Jealous. Jealous of anyone who has a claim on her father besides herself. She wants and needs Moss's attention so badly she'll do anything to get it. Moss, of course, is oblivious to it all. It breaks my heart ... but I'm not entirely free of blame, either." She stopped a moment and her mouth tightened. "I let the Colemans dictate to me what kind of mother I should be to Maggie," she said bitteriy. "They were wrong, Thad, and I was wrong."

"It's never too late, Billie," Thad murmured comfortingly. "Take things in hand now. Do the best you can. Caring is half the battle."

Billie turned sideways in her seat and. looked at this quiet, solid man. It meant so much to her that he was her friend. "You've always been so good to me, Thad. Your caring means a lot. That's another thing I should have done, told you long before this."

"Friends don't have to be told, Billie." His eyes left the road for a moment, taking in the sight of her, a sight that warmed his heart. Even now, amid all her worry for Maggie, Billie was a beautiful, sensual woman. The slight breeze coming in through the cracked window stirred the spun-gold strands of her hair. Her face, once softly round with youth, had molded itself around her striking bone structure. There was a womanly warmth about her, but within still lived the innocence he'd seen when they'd first met in Philadelphia all those years ago. Clear hazel eyes faced him with unblinking sincerity.

"I'm so ashamed, Thad. I can't seem to get control of my own life, so I suppose it's not surprising that I've failed my children. The Colemans are like charged rockets aiming for the sky, but I fizzle out on the launch pad. The girls, too. I resent it bitterly, but I don't know what to do about it. Maybe there is nothing I can do."

"Yes, there is. When it's time for you to take action, you'll do it, like you are now. Don't be so hard on yourself, Billie. I won't allow it."

In the police station parking lot, Thad reached for Billie's hand. The silence in the small car thundered in Billie's ears. "I'm here with you," Thad said quietly.

Billie squeezed the strong fingers. "I know, and I'm glad."

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Thad wanted to bring her close and whisper comforting words. He wanted to tell her that he'd always be there for her....

"C'mon, Mrs. Coleman. Let's get our tails in there and do what has to be done."

Billie smiled. "I know you're just teasing, but please don't call me Mrs. Coleman. 'Billie' reminds me that we're friends just for ourselves, not because of Moss."

"Aye-aye, ma'am. C'mon, Billie."

Thad and Billie exited the police station an hour later. She hung her head in shame at all the questions, questions for which she had no answers. She leaned heavily on Thad's arm.

"They're right, Billie. It's really too soon to file a missing persons report. Maggie said she would be back Monday. She knows she has school, so it's very likely she'll be back tomorrow night. We'll both hold on to that thought. In the meantime we'll ride around and go to all the places where you think she might be. At least we'll be doing something and you'll feel better."

"Thank you, Thad."

"For what?"

"For being my friend. I really don't have any friends. Did you know that? I mean real friends. Acquaintances are different. I have loads of those. But not one friend that I can confide in." Jordan didn't count, she told herself.

Thad's eyes were soft in the early-morning sun. She could feel the pull of the man as they walked back to the car. She wanted to fail into his arms and sob her heart out. But she couldn't subject him to herself and her problems. Thad deserved so much more.

It was late in the evening when Billie called a halt. "It's useless, Thad."

"At this point, I have to agree. Tomorrow is another day. We can start out early and hit every place you can think of that we didn't cover today. It might be a good idea to make a list."

Thad drove back to Sunbridge and parked the car facing out on the concrete apron. They sat quietly, each with his own thoughts. It was Thad who broke the silence. "Have you thought about what you're going to do or say once Maggie comes home? I think it's important that you have something concrete in your mind." He could see Billie shudder. It took all his reserve not to reach out to her.

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"I think I can handle it, Thad. I'm all Maggie has. I'll be there, I'll do what I can. Maybe, when the time comes, I'll have some of the right words."

"I wouldn't be a mother for anything in the world," Thad said lightly.

But it wasn't his words that caught Billie's attention; it was the expression in his eyes as he looked at her. And as though a veil were being lifted, she saw behind the humor and the friendship to the tenderness and yearning hidden deep within him. It was a sudden revelation and she was moved to caress his cheek. What she had seen in his eyes made her heart leap. She felt like bursting into song. "When?" was all she could manage.

"That day on top of Diamond Head. Back in Philadelphia. When isn't important."

"It's important to me."

"Then you'll have to settle for forever." She held his hand and they sat for long minutes in silence. "It's late," Thad said finally. "We'd better go inside and report our progress."

"To whom? Do you really think there's one person inside that monstrous house who even cares?" Billie said bitterly.

"Look at me, Billie. You can handle this. You do have choices, options, whether you realize it or not. You're the only one who can decide what to do and when to do it. Tuck that thought away in your mental file cabinet. Now, I think I could use a drink. I deserve a drink. Move it, woman. I've had a hard day."

"When did you become such a tyrant?" Billie teased as they got out of the car.

"On the Big E, when I had to keep your old man in line." The moment the words were out, Thad regretted them. Billie smiled, but her eyes filled with pain and tears. It was more than Thad could bear. He turned abruptly and ran to the house.

The house was empty and silent, the way a house is when the inhabitants lead separate lives. Thad understood. Finally.

"It's goddanm pitiful," he muttered through clenched teeth.

"Did you say something, Thad?"

"I said I was thirsty."

"I'm fixing it as fast as I can. Sit down. Take your shoes off. rii get us some sandwiches."

"A girl after my own heart." Billie smiled such a dazzling smile Thad felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Billie Coleman

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smiling, for him. What more could a man ask for or want? All of Billie Coleman.

The jukebox glowed eerily in the dark of Eddie & Amie's Bar and seemed to throb with the rhythm of the country song whining through its speakers. A male tenor crooned a lonely lament from the spinning black disc. "Take a little time with me...." Several couples swayed in each other's arms in a sensuous imitation of dancing.

Sipping his bourbon and branch water, the man glanced again at the girl sitting beside him at the bar. Thinking of her as a woman would have been ludicrous—he never considered a female a woman until she reached the age of thirty. Yet it was hard to place this one's age. She could have been anywhere between nine and twenty-nine. The revealing roundness to her chin and jaw and the smooth flesh of her upper arms could have belonged to a little girl. Yet there was a world of knowledge in those thickly mascaraed eyes and in the full lipsticked pout of her mouth.

When she'd come and sat down beside him, he'd been surprised. Even more surprised when the bartender had served her a drink. She hadn't spoken yet, but every move of her body told him she was very much aware of him. This, too, was surprising, considering there were other, much younger men in Eddie and Arnie's tonight. He wondered if she was waiting for someone. It was still early; the bar hadn't begun to fill with the usual Saturday-night crowd. Suddenly she drained her glass and asked him if he'd like to buy her another. For an instant he almost looked over his shoulder to be certain she was talking to him. Hell! He was forty-six years old and the father of three, and his waistline had disappeared a decade ago. It had been so long since something this young and vital had given him a "come hither" that he'd almost forgotten how to react. Almost.

Maggie perched on the barstool, her slim legs crossed in what she believed was an irresistible pose. The bracelets on her wrists jingled against one another as she reached for her pack of Pall Malls. The sleeveless black dress hugged her hips pleasantly and rode upward on her stockinged thighs, showing a long length of leg down to her high-heeled pumps. He liked her, she could tell. Just as she knew he was a traveling salesman. They were all traveling salesmen.

Someone dropped another nickel into the jukebox and a nice

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slow song came on. She wished he'd ask her to dance. "I just love this song, don't you?" she said. She tamped her cigarette and put it between her lips, inviting him to light it for her

He struck a match and held it. Maggie gazed above the Httle flare directly into his eyes, the way she'd seen Joan Crawford do in the movies. Yes, there it was, the shght tremble of his hand, the sudden intake of breath. This was going to be easier than she thought.

"Huh?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "Oh, the song. I don't get to listen to music much."

"You come from around here?"

"No, this is just part of my route. I live in Oklahoma. But Austin is a nice city, little rough around the edges compared to New York or Los Angeles, but nice." He'd meant to impress her by mentioning how widely traveled he was, but she seemed more interested in her rum and Coke. "Are you waiting for someone? A boyfriend?" He wasn't springing another seventy-five cents for a drink just to prime her for some other joker.

"No. I just stumbled in for a quickie before heading home." Another line from a movie, Barbara Stanwyck, this time. She fixed her eyes on his face, willing him to ask the next question.

"You live alone?"

There it was. From here on in, things were going to be easy. As they conversed, Maggie leaned closer, intimately closer. Soon his arm would automatically go around her. She knew the younger men sitting at the other end of the bar were watching her. When she'd first come in they'd tried to strike up an acquaintance but she would have none of them. They were too young, too crass, and they frightened her a little. But a nice man like Fred, here, was somehow safe, reassuring. And besides, older men were so grateful to have a pretty young girl make a fuss over them. They knew how to be nice and attentive, and affectionate. Younger guy's only pawed and prodded and they didn't want to talk or anything; they only wanted to get down to business.

"You didn't tell me, Ruthie. Do you live alone?" Fred asked again.

"Not exactly, but my roommate's out of town this weekend. That's why I'm down here, 'cause it's so lonely in my apartment."

"I thought you said you came in before going home."

"I did. What I mean is, I didn't want to go home to a lonely apartment. Do you like to dance, Fred?"

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He seemed undecided for a moment, but then he stood and led her onto the small space in front of the jukebox. She walked into his arms and fit pleasantly into his embrace. He felt a little guilty about what he was contemplating. She felt even smaller in his arms than his sixteen-year-old daughter back home. Just how old was she, anyway?

Maggie laid her head against Fred's broad shoulder. His arms around her made her feel so safe and protected. And she liked the way he talked to her, as if he were really interested in what she had to say. As they danced, she told him lies about the kind of work she did. Tonight she was a shopgirl in Kaplan's Department Store. He told her about his work, selling hardware for boilers. It wouldn't have mattered to Maggie if he'd said he was Jack the Ripper; he was nice. Nice to talk to her, to dance with her. Nice.

Pap never talked business with her, not the way Fred was doing. Pap thought she was too young to know or to care, but she wasn't. She would have sat and listened for days if it meant that she could just have Pap smile down at her, like Fred was doing, or have him let her rest her head against his shoulder and make her feel safe.

The music stopped and Fred gave her a handful of change to select her favorite songs. Maggie chose indiscriminately. She didn't want to lose the moment, lose his rapt attention. Later, when he asked if he could take her home, she'd suggest a motel just down the road, saying she had a fussy landlady. That would be the part Maggie would like least, she felt sure— being with Fred with both of them naked and him rolling on top of her. But one or two more rum and Cokes and she'd hardly mind at all.

The neon sign outside the Momingside Motel glared in the darkness. "Hey, Ruthie, you know what motel spells backwards? Letom!" Fred seemed to think his joke very funny and he laughed uproariously as he walked her from his car to the room. He was drunk but not too drunk; Maggie knew by the way he kept pressing her hand against his crotch.