Texas rich (55 page)

The cup Billie was holding fell and shattered on the new tile. "You're leaving? Where? Why? No, I'm sorry. I have no right to ask that. For how long?"

"I don't know for how long. It's the Pacific. My guess is at least three years."

"Three years! That sounds like forever. Oh, Thad!"

She cared. Jesus, she sounded as though she really cared. There were tears in her eyes. "It's only thirty-six months, or

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one thousand ninety-five days if you're counting. Who's counting?" He couldn't stand the stricken look on her face. He had to get things back on an even keel. "How are things with Moss?"

BiUie drew in a deep breath. "Things are... things are... what they are. What I mean is, I try too hard. Moss doesn't try hard enough. It's what it is... for now. Moss will be sorry he missed you. He was saying this morning that it's been too long since you've seen each another. He's so busy, Thad. Really he is. He's home at night but he works in his office."

"And what about you, Billie?" Thad hoped his voice didn't sound as anxious as he felt.

"I think I'm content. I have my painting and Sawyer. Did I tell you? Of course I did—I'm working on some textile designs."

"I think it's wonderful, Billie. Would you like me to send you some silks when I get to the Orient? I'm to be stationed in Japan."

"Would you do that?"

"It would be my pleasure. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters."

Billie didn't respond right away. "Happy, Thad? I feel as though I'm on hold for the moment. I don't know if that makes sense to you or not, but it's as though I'm marking time, waiting for something or... you understand."

Or someone, Thad thought.

Why couldn't they say what was on both their minds? Why wasn't he telling her how he felt about her? Because, he answered himself, Billie was another man's wife—his best friend's wife.

"You'll keep in touch?" Billie asked. It was a plea.

"Of course. The Colemans are part of my life." That was a safe statement.

"What are you thinking now, this very second?" Billie's eyes were bright.

"About that time we were standing in the cavern at Diamond Head. What made you ask me that question?"

"I was thinking that one thousand ninety-five days is a very long time for two ... for two friends to be separated. I've never been to the Orient. I'd like to see Hong Kong, Japan, the Philippines."

Thad tensed. "When?"

Billie's clear hazel eyes met his gaze honestly. "When?" she whispered. "When I need you most."

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/{{{{{{{fCUAFTER TWENTY-SIX mmm

When Sawyer was eighteen months old, Moss came to the realization that Billie no longer lived and breathed solely for him. Days went by when she didn't enter Sunbridge at all but ate and slept in her studio. Once, unable to comprehend what was happening, he had tiptoed out of the house and gone down to the studio. He had stood in the dark and drizzling rain watching his wife play with his granddaughter. He could have gone in. He could have stormed in. Billie's rich laugher as she tussled with Sawyer on the thick carpeting brought a lump to his throat. He was losing her in so many little ways. He knew he had no one to blame but himself. A blanket of self-pity covered him as he stood watching. He didn't belong in the studio. He knew if he knocked on the door or simply walked in, Billie would smile but it wouldn't reach her eyes. The laughter would stop and a tenseness would take over. Billie's eyes would send silent questions: What do you want? Why are you here? She would say, "Moss, how nice to see you." She would be polite. They would be like two strangers.

His children were settled now and gave him no anxiety. It was Billie who was the thorn in his rose garden. This new Billie, who had ideas and opinions of her own and didn't hesitate to speak them. She had to be the youngest, the most beautiful, most caring grandmother he had ever seen. The love and devotion she showered on Sawyer should be his.

They should be doing things, going places, sharing. Instead, they were leading separate lives. Maybe Thad had the right idea after all. Bachelorhood couldn't be all that bad.

Back in his office, Moss delved into his paperwork. Two hours later he knew another trip to Europe was necessary. The sooner the better, and it was business that had to be handled personally.

Suddenly, Moss sat up straight. Maybe, just maybe he could work it so that his business trip coincided with Billie's tour of

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the Orient, make all the arrangements in advance for her to accompany him, then persuade her to drop her plans in favor of his. She'd discussed her trip with him and he had agreed she could go, although he'd known she would go regardless of what he said. Billie had been writing and making calls halfway across the world, setting up appointments and meetings that, she said, would add to her knowledge and further her career; whatever the hell that was! Now he could head her crazy ambitions off at the pass and offer her something far more suitable: togetherness.

A few calls produced two confirmed reservations on a flight to England, with return passage on an Italian ocean liner. A cruise home was just the ticket. What could be more romantic? Billie would love it. It would be a second honeymoon. Or was it their third? A month. A month for the two of them to see Europe. Billie would be ecstatic. He would tell her at dinner tomorrow night in front of Agnes and Seth. Riley would be there, too, since it was Friday and he'd be home from school for the weekend. Three allies.

Moss got up and poured himself a drink. Life had certainly changed since his marriage. Time was slipping through his fingers. He couldn't let Billie drift further away from him. He had to do something to bring things back to the way they were. The trip abroad could do it. He just had to stand firm.

Why? Why was he putting himself through this hassle? Things weren't uncomfortable. Billie shared his bed willingly. She never complained. What really bothered him? The studio? The baby? She still loved him; he could feel it. Sense it in the way she looked at him. He could hear it when they made love. It was all there, all the right things. There just wasn't enough of it. Billie was holding back, not giving one hundred percent to him anymore. A wife was supposed to give her all to the marriage, like Mom had. Blame? Fault? His? Every married couple had differences. Every married couple had trouble with their children.

Moss poured himself another drink and walked over to the French doors. He threw them open and squinted to look down across the back lawn to Billie's studio. There were lights blazing through the expanse of glass: Sawyer's bedroom was lit. It was almost the child's bedtime. Would Billie come back to the house or would she sleep in the studio? He'd been keeping track. Four nights out of seven she slept at the studio.

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He could walk out, cross the lawn, knock on the door, and say he'd come down to watch Sawyer get ready for bed. It would be acceptable. Or he could carry down two drinks and offer to share a nightcap. Or he could go down there and kick the damn door in. Excuses. He needed an excuse to go there. He was an intruder, an interloper. His money was paying for it. He had rights.

The light went out in the nursery. His eyes narrowed. "The hell with it." He closed the French doors and locked them for the night. His eyes fell on the phone. Why the hell not? He dialed a number from his memory. "Alice? If you aren't busy, I'd like to come over. Yes, too long. Business, the children. I read the reviews. You must be very pleased. I can be there in thirty minutes." He listened for a second and then laughed. He hadn't laughed like that since the last time he'd been with Alice Forbes. "You got yourself a deal." There was a grimace on his face as he drew the drapes across the French doors, shutting out the blazing lights in Billie's studio.

Billie kissed Riley and then hugged him. The boy grinned and suffered the motherly embrace. How tall he was, Billie thought. He was a handsome youth. He looked so much like Moss, it was uncanny.

"How are things at school?" Billie asked.

"Great, Mam. Got an A this morning in my English test. I left my folder on the hall table, if you want to take a look at it. Pap has to sign some papers. How's everyone?"

"We're all fine. Sawyer had a big day and she's asleep akeady. Tomorrow you can play with her. But I have to warn you, she's got a wicked left hook." Riley laughed.

"I had a letter from Maggie and one from Susan this week. They seem to be doing all right. I'm going to answer both of them over the weekend."

"See that you do." She was so pleased that this son of hers thought enough of his sisters to write them. What was even more surprising was that Maggie kept up a steady correspondence with him. Susan, too, but her letters took longer to arrive. Her children did love one another. Neither Susan nor Riley judged Maggie. They accepted. Why couldn't adults do the same? Oh, no, they had to hang labels, make judgments, dole out punishments. She hated conditional love. Children were wise in so many ways.

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"What's for dinner? Vm starved."

"I don't think I've ever seen you when you aren't starved," BiUie teased.

"Mam, I missed lunch and only had oatmeal for breakfast. I could eat a side of beef myself right now."

"I think we're having prime rib. Your grandfather insisted. Blackberry pie for dessert. What do you think of that?"

"I can't wait. Where's Pap?"

"Someone call me?" Moss wrapped his son in both arms.

Dinner on Friday nights was always pleasant. Everyone, it seemed, put more effort into being pleasant. Early on, Billie had realized it was for Riley's benefit. Seth talked nonstop about the ranch and the business. Riley devoured every word and ate steadily. Moss never took his eyes off the boy. Agnes presided at the foot of the table with a little bell at her plate to summon the maid.

The atmosphere was a little different today, more electric somehow. Something was brewing; Billie could tell. Moss was moving his fork around on his plate, but he wasn't eating. He, like all the Coleman men, adored prime rib. The others were acting normally. It was Moss who was going to drop a bombshell. How well she knew this husband of hers. There was nothing to do but wait. He would bring it up over dessert or coffee.

Just as the new dark-eyed maid started to pour the coffee. Moss leaned back in his chair and reached inside his jacket pocket. He withdrew a folder and handed it across the table to Billie. "What do you think of that, honey?"

Billie frowned. She reached for the thick packet and opened it. Her eyes widened. She could feel her back start to stiffen. She was trapped; it was a famihar feeling. She slid the papers back into the packet.

"Well, what is it? Don't keep us in suspense, little gal!" Seth bellowed.

"Mam» what is it? Pap looks as though he just won a prize. Tell us!" Riley shouted. For a moment he forgot his second piece of blackberry pie.

"It appears to be two tickets to Europe." Billie said in tight, clipped tones.

"Moss! How wonderful!" Agnes trilled excitedly.

"Mam, you'll get to see Susan and Aunt Amelia. Aren't you excited?" Riley demanded.

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"You don*t look very pleased, gal," Seth growled. "Your husband went to a lot of trouble to do this. The least you could do is show you're happy."

Billie ignored everyone at the table. "Moss, you should have asked me before you did this. The thought is wonderful, but I can't go to Europe now and you know it. I've made plans to go to the Orient. We spoke about this several times and you said it was all right with you. Now you go ahead and arrange all this without consulting me. I'm sorry."

Seth scowled. "Sorry about what? You cancel your plans and go with your husband, the way a wife should. That's what you're going to do. Moss, settle tiiis wife of yours."

Moss seethed. It was happening again. It was slipping out of his grasp. His plan wasn't going to work.

"It would be wonderful, Billie," he said. "We could tour Europe, get to see Susan and Amelia. You could go to the woolen mills over there. A second honeymoon, Billie."

Billie could feel herself begin to cringe as everyone at the table waited for her reply. Second honeymoon indeed. She'd been the one to hang up Moss's suit this morning and she'd been the one to take his shirt and underwear to the hamper. The faint scent of Alice Forbes's perfume still clung to his clothes. A second honeymoon. It was too ludicrous for words.

"I'm sorry, Moss. I've already made my reservations. You know I'm not interested in the woolen mills. My interest, if you paid attention to what I've been talking about, is in Oriental art. I'm sorry, Moss, but I can't make it. Perhaps when I get back from the Orient we can make plans to go sometime again in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to check on Sawyer."

"I'll be a son of a bitch!" Seth shouted as he struggled up from the table. "She's got you by the short hairs, boy. Reel her in and take hold. What's going on here? What's this garbage about going to the Orient? This is the first I've heard about it. Cut her off at the pass. Take away her money and she'll step into line. You only have to do it once and then they know who's boss."

"I can't do that," Moss said stiffly.

"And why the hell not?" Seth thundered.

"Because she told you the truth. She did talk to me about the trip to the Orient. / said she could go." This had to be an all-time low for him. Christ, he was eating crow in front of

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the old man, his mother-in-law, and his son. His eyes went to Agnes, who was twirling her pearls nervously. What the hell was she worried about?

Agnes excused herself with a remark to Riley to be sure to finish his milk. Moss headed for his office. Riley looked around the empty table. Sometimes Sunbridge could be so lonely. Maybe next week he would bring a friend home with him. His pal David would like the ranch. But first he would explain that his grandfather was a cranky man. And his grandmother wasn't the cookie-baking kind of grandmother the other kids talked about. He gulped down the remainder of his milk and left the table.

Billie lay quietly in the narrow bed, aware of Sawyer's light breathing in the next room. She wasn't fooling herself for a minute. She had choices and she had options. She was capable of making a decision. She had reinforced her conunitment to Moss and she would honor it. She loved Moss. She would always love him. But now it was a different kind of love. The breathtaking grand passion was gone. The closeness and the intimacy of early marriage were gone. All that remained were biological needs that required exercising fi-om time to time. And the commitment to each other. To do what? To live in the same house. To unite when the need arose in regard to the children. The name of the game was pretend. Pretend she didn't know about Alice Forbes. Pretend she never smelled perfume or saw lipstick on her husband's shirt. Pretend she didn't mind if he went off to Europe. Pretend that he cared about her work.