Fanny smiled when Moon set a cup of tea down on the iron table, and then took the boys inside with her. As she sipped at the hot tea, her thoughts swirled inside her head. She knew in her heart her husband would never work with his father in the chicken business. Ash would consider it demeaning. What he wanted, what he'd always wanted, was to take over his mother's business. What was happening to him?
Dear God, how had things gotten to this point? What was wrong with her? Why did Ash turn on her? Didn't he love her?
Fanny did cry then; for the would-haves, the could-haves, the should-haves. When there were no more tears, she picked up her sewing basket. Maybe this was all she was good for, taking care of children and sewing children's clothes.
Where had all the love gone? Was it ever there? For her, yes. For Ash, she had to admit she didn't know. Whatever it was, it had given her three beautiful children. Her eyes widened suddenly, her forehead beading with sweat. Her knitting basket fell to the ground as she raced into the house in search of a calendar. Her hand trembled as she counted off the days since her last period. The calendar back home in the dressing room was clearly marked, for her benefit as well as Ash's. Three days of sexual abstinence. They had both agreed three children was enough. She closed her eyes as she leaned
against the kitchen wall. She was almost 99.99 percent certain that she was already pregnant.
Ash would blame her for this too.
She was so beautiful, all Ash could do was stare at his mother standing on the stage singing for her customers. He looked around at the rapturous looks on the faces of the audience. They loved her. Too bad there weren't more of them. The house was only half-full. Allowing for the month of August, when things were normally slow, regular customers on vacation, plus it was the middle of the week, Ash knew September wouldn't be much better. He hadn't seen a full house since his return. What the Silver Dollar needed was a ht-de skin. Some high-kicking, long-legged showgirls with sparkly costumes. A litde boogie-woogie would help too. His mother needed to get rid of the fuddy-duddy atmosphere and spruce up the place with some chrome, glass, and mirrors. Some bright colors would be nice. Bright colors made people move faster, and the faster they moved, the more money they spent. The Silver Dollar's regular customers took naps in the lounge. His mother saw it as amusing since they always woke up when she started to sing. He saw it as money going down the drain because no one bought a drink or gambled when his mother began her hour-long act.
Ash waited until his mother finished the last song of the evening. No one, at least no one to his knowledge, could sing "Sentimental Journey," like his mother. When the applause died down and his mother came back onstage. Ash knew she would sing two more songs, "If I Loved You," and "Till the End of Time." The audience would beg for more, but his mother would just smile and walk off the stage, and take her seat next to Devin Rollins. He looked around for Devin, but didn't see him. If Devin wasn't at the Silver Dollar, he might have a chance of cornering his mother to address his concerns.
Ash made his way backstage, nodding to various employees as he went along. It was a dark and dreary area, long overdue for a makeover. He knocked on the door. He noticed his hand was shaking. His mother always did this to him. Anytime he found himself in her presence or even anticipating being in her presence, he either started to shake or he got tongue-tied. Pure and simple, she intimidated him. The moment he opened and closed the door, he jammed his hands into his trouser pockets.
310 Fern Michaels
"Ash! How nice of you to come backstage. I hope you're here to tell me you enjoyed my performance."
"I always enjoy listening to you, Mom. As always, you had the audience mesmerized."
"What can I do for you, Ash?" Sallie said as she prepared to remove her theatrical makeup.
Ash drew a deep breath, his hands still jammed in his pockets. "I need to talk to you about a couple of things. The palaces and the Silver Dollar are losing money."
"I know. I don't want you worrying about it. Ash. It's more important that people have jobs and work for someone they like. We aren't losing that much. Actually, according to Simon, we're breaking even. That means we aren't losing, and we aren't winning. I can live with that."
"What does Simon have to do with this?"
"I turned everything over to him months ago. He's come up with some marvelous suggestions and already he's invested certain sums that are showing remarkable gains. You know how he loves to play in the stock market." Sallie smiled at her son in the mirror.
"Play?"
"It's just a figure of speech. Ash."
"And does Simon approve of your break-even way of doing business?"
"No. The gains he's made in other areas pay for the loss of revenue."
"It's time to sell the palaces and the Silver Dollar. If you don't, you're going to get lost in the boom that's starting. You need to move with the times. You need high-class shows, and you need to renovate if you refuse to sell. Do you want this place to be a 'has-been'? The palaces are pure deadweight. You can never tell me they're breaking even. Get rid of them now while you can make a profit. If you have fifty customers a week, it's a lot. Nobody's interested anymore."
"WTiat happens to all those people and their famihes? They depend on me, and I refuse to just get rid of them. When it's time for them to retire, it wiU be different. Just out of curiosity, if I were to get rid of them and the Silver Dollar, what would you suggest?"
"Build a big new modem casino on that desert land. You have to stay competitive."
"Why?"
'*Why? So you make money. So I can earn more money. I have
a family to support. I'm not able to do that the way you pay me. Pop offered me a job at twice what you pay me."
"Is that what this is all about? You want more money? Why didn't you just say so?"
"Because I don't want a handout. I work my tail off. I put in long hours. If I'm running this business, then I should be running it, not you. Each time I make a suggestion you turn it down. Tell me, why do you need me? Or, am I like the employees at the bingo palaces?" he asked bitterly.
"No. Not at all. I thought . . . you have a family . . . you need to spend time . . . give me the bottom line, Ash."
"Sell. Make provisions for the employees. Move with the times. If you insist on standing still, I'm going to have to do more than think about Pop's offer."
"Have you discussed this with Fanny?"
"Yes," Ash lied.
"And she's in a^eement?"
"Yes," Ash lied again.
"You're lying to me, Ash. Even as a small boy I could always tell when you were lying to me. I'm your mother, you don't ever have to lie to me."
Ash dug his heels into the carpet. Son of a bitch. "Fanny's my wife, she'll do whatever I want. I think she's pregnant, so she won't be interested in business matters."
"Again! My, God, Ash, the poor girl hasn't recovered from her last pregnancy. You're blackmailing me, Ash. I won't tolerate that. Where's Fanny?"
"Sunrise. She'll be coming back any day now. We won't be availing ourselves of your hospitahty any longer. I'll take care of my family by myself."
"I see."
"You don't see at all."
"Yes, Ash, I do see. You're doing the exact same thing you did as a child. If you didn't get your way, you packed up your toys and went off by yourself. You can't do that now, you have a family to think about. This isn't the navy, Ash. We aren't your subordinates that you can order around. You have to stop being so selfish and think about your family instead of yourself"
"I am thinking about them. What the hell do you think this is all about?"
312 Fern Michaels
"Taking control away from me. Being in the driver's seat. Isn't that the latest expression?"
"I don't know. That's not what this is all about. I won't be your flunky, Mom. I guess we don't have anything else to say to each other. I'll finish out the night and lock up. Tomorrow you can hire someone else."
"Ash, you
need to talk to Fanny about this."
"I'm pretty damn sick and tired of hearing about Fanny this and Fanny that. Fanny does what I want when I want it."
"Ash, do you hear yourself? Fanny is a person. You don't own her."
"Neither do you!" Ash shot back. "I think you think you do, though. You've given her everything in the world. Well, guess what, we're giving the car back because we can't afford two cars. We don't need your household help anymore either. You aren't her goddamn mother. You're my mother! It would be nice if you would act like a mother sometime. Shit, I don't know why I even bothered to try and talk to you. Stay out of my life and Fanny's too!" • "Ash . . . wait!"
The slam of the door sounded like an explosion.
Sallie stepped out of the ghttery blue stage gown and into street clothes. She was moving around in slow motion, robot fashion. The phone was in her hand. She didn't remember picking it up. "Devin . . . Devin ... oh, Devin ... I need you."
"I had no idea this was such a big operation," Ash said, three days later as his father gave him a tour of the R & R Ranch. "I'm sorry. Pop, that I haven't been out here."
"That's okay, Ash. People tend to shy away from you when you tell them you're in the chicken business. It's very profitable. Actu-2illy, we bring in more money than the Silver Dollar and the bingo palaces put together. Simon just told me that a few weeks ago. I'm pretty proud of that, Ash."
"You should be. Pop," Ash said, clapping him on the back. "Refrigeration trucks, Pop. Expansion is the way to go. You have to move with the times. Mom can't see that. I tried to explain, but she didn't want to listen. You should be able to cover all the surrounding states. Hell, if you want to spring for a plane, I can make your deliveries. I^t's kick that one around."
"I'm your man, son. Let's go into the office and huddle. I'm open
for any and all suggestions. Are you sure I'm paying you enough?" "It's a fair wage, Pop. I'll work my ass off for you, you know that.
I have a wife and three kids, maybe four soon, to support. How's
the other . . . end of the business doing?"
Philip laughed. "I try not to get involved. Red tells me she can't
count the money fast enough, so I guess it's doing okay. Ash, is this
going to cause a problem with your mother?"
"Pop, the day I was born I became a problem for Mom. We both
know that. I guess so. Then again, maybe not. I'm not going to worry
about it. Let's talk about a plane and see how far we're v^dlling to go
in our expansion efforts. It's good to be working with you, Pop."
Fanny emerged from the doctor's office in a daze. She was pregnant. She started to cry as she stepped into Bess's waiting car.
"It's only nine months out of your life, Fanny. You love kids, and you're going to love this one too. The t^ins have each other, and now Sunny will have a sister or brother. It's important for kids to have companions. The time will go fast, you'll see."
"It's not the pregnancy, it's the way it happened. I was careless, but in my own defense, I think Ash planned it all; I just got caught up in the moment. God, I haven't even lost the weight from Sunny's birth. Four months of morning sickness, weight gain, birth, weight loss, crying babies. No more household help. I don't know if I can do it, Bess."
"I hate to point this out, Fanny, but you don't have a choice."
"I could get an abortion if I knew where to go to get it. I've thought about it. Things aren't going that well between me and Ash. To bring another child into the world doesn't make sense. As you know. Ash is working with his father and making twice the money he was making working for Sallie. Philip bought a plane and Ash makes deliveries. He seems to like what he's doing. Philip is ecstatic to have Ash working with him. Ash told me . . . actually, he forbade me to see Sallie. I refused to go along with that, so we aren't speaking. I keep thinking, maybe it's time for me to pack up and go back to Shamrock. I didn't think it was possible to be so unhappy and miserable. Sallie is beside herself I don't know what to do, Bess."
"WTien I don't know what to do, I don't do anything. That's the best advice I can give you. Whatever you do, I'm on your side. So is John."
314 Fern Michaels
"It shouldn't be like this, choosing up sides. What kind of marriage is this? What did I do wrong?"
"You didn't do anything wrong, Fanny. It's that jackass you married that's done everything wrong. If you start blaming yourself, I swear, I'm going to give you a good kick. Let's go out to lunch, you're eating for two now. My treat."
"I can't, Bess. I have to get home, my sitter has another sitting job for one o'clock."
Left to her own devices, Fanny fed and diapered Sunny and settled the twins with a huge basket of blocks before she picked up the phone to call Billie. The moment she heard her voice, Fanny relaxed.
"Billie, I need to talk with you. Let me just blurt everything out quickly so I can get it over with. I'm pregnant. Ash is working for his father. He sold my car, he forbids me to talk with Sallie, he made me get rid of all my household help. I can't Uve like this. I refuse to stand around and wait for my husband to make an appearance, to say a kind word. I will never again prostitute myself for a smile or a pat on the head."
"I understand all too well, Fanny. When Moss returned things were wonderful for a little while. Little by litde, things started to go downhill. At first I blamed it on his being a prisoner of the Japanese. As time went on I realized Moss is Moss, and he isn't going to change. He's so busy running Coleman Aviation, he doesn't have time for me or anyone else. That isn't quite true—he has time for his father. I take it one day at a time."
"Is there anything I can do, Billie?"
"Be my friend. My greatest joys these days are my children and my friendship with you."
"Oh, Billie, I feel the same way. I don't want to live like this. I need to have a life. You need a life too. If it has to be separate from Ash and yours has to be separate from Moss, so be it. I think I'm ready to go into business, and I want you to be a part of the business. I'm going to need advice, help, and support. Bess is ready to jump in with both feet. Tell me again, Billie, that you think we can do this, tell me that you have faith in me. I need to hear the words."
The words were kind, gende, and full of approval. Fanny sighed with relief
"Billie, I need to tell you about Jake. Just listen, okay?"
"Talk, Fanny, I'm listening."
A long time later, her confidence restored with Billie's encour-
agement, Fanny said, "We can use Jake's money to start up the business. When we begin making a profit, I'll put his money back . . . into an escrow account... or something. I want to think of it as bor-ro\dng, not just. . . you know, taking it. It's going to work, I can feel it. It will be ours, BUlie. It will be our legacy to our children.''
Sunny's Togs, the whimsical line of children's wear created in a small sewing room on a mountaintop overlooking the city of Las Vegas, would one day have its shares listed on the New York Stock Exchange.
Part Three
fa:=9
The Family
1961-1966
The town known as Las Vegas had changed gready in die eighteen years since Fanny was hijacked at gunpoint aboard a bus bound for California. Perched on the edge of the Mojave Desert, and on the edge of the Colorado River, the town was like a shooting star, twinkling overhead, twenty-four hours a day.
Some called the city a gambling mecca with top name entertainment, luxurious accommodations, miles and miles of glittering neon, showgirls in skimpy outfits, and casino come-ons. Fanny Thornton and her family called it home.
The Thorntons had changed, too, in those eighteen years as babies passed through childhood into their teen years, and parents read college manuals and brochures, and began to plan for the day when there would be only two people at the dinner table instead of six.
Sunrise, now Fanny's, thanks to SalHe's generosity on Fanny's thirtieth birthday, had also changed. It w
as no longer a dark and somber place. These days it was filled with comfortable chintz-covered furniture, colorful rugs, pastel walls, and sheer curtains. Green plants were everywhere, thanks to Chue's green thumb. Children's voices, dogs barking, music, television, ringing phones, attested to the fact that this place called Sunrise was fmally a home.
Weekdays the Thornton children attended private school in town. They returned Friday evenings with friends who stayed the weekend to swim, play tennis, or ski. At those times the house rocked with sounds of laughter and good times. It was the same during the summer months and over hohdays. Fanny likened it all to a year-round picnic minus the ants.
They were older now, these children of hers; Birch and Sage were sixteen, going on seventeen, Sunny was almost sixteen, and Bil-Ue was fourteen. The girls anguished over pimples, hairdos, boys, and the telephone, while the boys tried to hide their dismay over their lack of muscle tone, their skin flaws, and the fact that the phone calls were never for them, but for their sisters.
320 Fern Michaels
The Thornton children were close not only in age, but in their relationships as well. It was okay to fight occasionally, okay to tease, but only within the family. Any outsider who had the audacity to try the same thing found himself not only verbally but physically abused by all four Thornton children. On more than one occasion Fanny had to step between the youngsters to make them apologize and shake hands. Most times there were no hard feelings, and the visiting kids never made the same mistake again.
The twins, Birch and Sage, were normal in every way, regular guys to their friends, jerks to their sisters, caring, loving, respectful sons to their mother. They had chores like their friends, received allowances, made their own beds, helped Chue in the garden and greenhouses, carried out the trash, and in general never complained when Fanny asked them to do something. Each night they kissed and hugged their mother before going upstairs to bed. They were good students, in the top three percent of their class. Their goal was to be accepted to West Chester University in Pennsylvania to study accounting and business management so they could take over the business end of their mother's company, Sunny's Togs, a three-million-dollar-a-year business.
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