open, and withdrew a faded and wrinkled snapshot. She handed it to Sawyer.
It was blurred, as if the person who took the picture hadn't focused the camera properly, so it was impossible to tell if the handsome pilot standing next to a smiling young woman was Rand or not. The cocky angle of his cap made her think it was. She'd seen him stand in exactly the same position many times. Loose. Cock of the walk. She handed back the picture.
There was a desperate note in Chesney's voice when she spoke next. "My mother told me things. It's true that most of them must be public knowledge, but there were a few... intimate things, the kinds of things lovers say to one another. I don't think I should repeat them unless it's to my father."
Sawyer's head was bobbing. "Yes, you're right. Look, I have to get back to the office. Why don't we meet this evening and have dinner—seven at the Okura. Will that be all right?"
"That will be fine. I appreciate your seeing and talking with me." Chesney smiled warmly and held out her hand. Sawyer grasped it firmly. She'd always prided herself on her manly handshake. She'd met her match.
The afternoon dragged. Chesney kept intruding into Sawyer's thoughts. It was three-thirty when she picked up the phone to call Hawaii. Should she ask for Maggie or Rand? Should she just blurt her news, or choose her words carefully and try to soften the blow? And it was going to be a blow, especially to Maggie. Rand was going to have to deal with a daughter, a grown daughter who was old enough to have children of her own. Maggie. She'd speak to Maggie. Maggie would know how to deal with it. She sighed with relief when she heard her mother's voice.
"Sawyer! How nice of you to call. I was going to write you a letter today. Now you've saved me the trouble—you know how I hate to write letters! There isn't anything wrong, is there?" Maggie asked anxiously. "Mr. Hasegawa isn't..."
"He's doing as well as can be expected. I don't know if what I have to tell you is to be considered something wrong or not. I've been sitting here for the past few hours trying to decide how to... to tell you. ..."
"For God's sake, Sawyer, what is it? Damn Rand, he went to Hilo today to see about a sugarcane plantation. He wants to buy it. Stop me from babbling, Sawyer. I know you aren't an
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alarmist, but goddamn it, you are alarming me. You never call in the middle of the day. What is it, Sawyer?"
Maggie listened while Sawyer told her of her noontime visitor. She heard Maggie's gasp but kept on talking. "I'm supposed to meet her this evening at the Okura. She seems to be legitimate, and Maggie, she looks like Rand, so much so that it's spooky. I don't know what else to say."
"I don't either. How am I going to tell this to Rand?"
"The same way I told it to you. Just say it. Maggie, I'm the last one in the world that would ever try to advise you, but..."
"Lay back, is that it?"
"I think so. It's going to be a shock to Rand. Be there for him."
"Of course," Maggie said soberly. "How is everything, Sawyer?"
"Fine. Cole's coming over in ten days. We'll party and liven things up. Every time he comes over here, he roots me out of bed at six in the morning to walk down the Ginza. He really gets off on it. Someday I'm going to find out why."
"He probably saw someone do it in the movies and it stuck with him," Maggie said in a quiet voice. Usually she laughed indulgently when she heard something about Cole she didn't know. Mothers were like that.
"Do you want me to call you this evening after dinner?"
"Yes. If I know Rand, he's going to want to take the next plane out. Thanks for calling, Sawyer. We'll be in touch. Don't be surprised if we show up on your doorstep in the next day or so."
"You're welcome," Sawyer said warmly.
"You really mean that, don't you?"
"You bet." Good-byes were so awkward. No one ever seemed to know how to hang up a phone or get out a door. Sometimes good-byes were longer than actual visits. "I'll be in touch tonight, then. Good-bye, Maggie."
"Good-bye, Sawyer."
Maggie stared at the phone for a long time. She'd been happy too long. Things had been too idyllic. She hadn't actually been sitting around waiting for the other shoe to drop, but she'd known that sooner or later her life was going to be intruded upon. Later always came, no matter how you tried to prevent it. She'd handle it.
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{{<{{{«{ chapter six mmm
Tess sipped her coffee and kept on talking at the same time, no mean feat, Coots thought. His wife always did two or three things at a time. Sometimes Tess awed him. Today she looked cranky, and when she was in what he called one of her star moods, he tried to absent himself as quickly as possible.
"You are one foolish girl, Lacey," she scolded. "You should have insisted on going to Japan with Riley. The configuration was just right. When will you learn to trust the stars?"
"The same time I do." Coots guffawed. He loved poking fun at Tess's astrological jabberings and detested the area of the house that she referred to as her offices. He particularly hated the decor: the bright half moon and the yellow glittery stars she'd pasted on one of her black velvet walls. The weird charts and maps that hung in the room made him nervous, not that he believed for one minute that Tess could predict the future, although at times she came damn close. He knew for a fact that she never made a move until she'd consulted the stars. As far as he was concerned, it was devil doings and he wanted no part of it.
"Ah know your opinion all too well, Coots, and ah'd appreciate it if you'd keep it to yourself," Tess said in the affected drawl she pulled out when she was upset. "Ah was talking to mah daughter, so let her speak for herself. Well, Lacey?"
"Mama, Riley was gone before I got up. Cole called and gave me the message. There was nothing I could do. Why on earth would you want me to fly all the way to Japan and deadhead back hours later? You know how those airtight jets suck all the moisture out of your face. Your skin just flakes. I think your... configurations must be off this time. I'll go to Japan when the time is right or when the stars say I'll enjoy myself."
Tess nodded. She knew when not to beat a dead horse. Now that her dander was up, she honed in on Coots. "Some-
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day, Coots honey, y'all'11 beg me to chart your course. You're in a bad trend right now. Mercury is retrograde, and that bodes ill. Y'all mind my words."
"We'll mind them, Tess," Coots snickered. "What do you ladies plan on doing today?" It wasn't that he cared, but he'd been saying the same thing for years now, and he was a creature of habit. He beamed down at his daughter Ivy, his favorite. She was eating what he called a hearty he-man breakfast, the kind he liked to eat. He approved of Ivy, and she was smart as a whip, something else he approved of.
Lacey watched her father's approving gaze. It irked her. She knew she was her mother's favorite, and she also knew her father didn't care much for her. But she was good enough for him to put the squeeze on when he wanted something from the Colcmans. She didn't like these little family scenes. They were never loving and warm. There were never kind words, only bickering and accusations. It was a wonder anyone could eat a bite. Ivy never seemed to be bothered, but Ivy was an entity unto herself. When she was little she used to pretend she was born into royalty, and the hospital had gotten the babies mixed up. She probably still believed it.
"Ivy, it's disgusting the way you shove food into your mouth." Ivy ignored her. "Mama, what do the stars predict for Ivy? Surely an ulcer, or some kind of stomach gas."
Tess also detested Ivy's robust appetite. She was tempted to lie about her daughter's chart, but she took her work seriously where the family was concerned. "Ivy's a true Scorpio and suffers no health problems," she said. Her voice sounded tight, as though the words were being forced from her mouth against her will.
Ivy finished the last of her coffee and lathered a third piece of toast with butter and jam. She looked up at her sister. She neither liked nor disliked Lacey, and the feeling was the same for her mother. They were two of a kind, and both of
them had tormented her from birth. Over the years she'd built her own protective shield to ward off the hurt and pain they dished out to her. But she loved her rough, crude father, almost as much as she loved Riley Coleman, who thought of her as a child, a squirt, a pest to be dealt with kindly but brusquely.
She'd chosen geology and engineering as her major and minor because of Riley and her father. She was going to be the best goddamn geologist ever to come out of the state of Texas. Two degrees would be something they couldn't ignore. As
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soon as those diplomas were in her hand, it would be look out Texas, look out world, here I come. She folded her napkin and stood. Nobody said a word as she walked toward the door.
She'd hoped for at least a good-bye, or maybe drive carefully Ivy, that old car is a death trap. Something to show she was part of the family. She didn't care anymore. Right now, this minute, she could walk away from this breakfast table and away from this family and never look back. When she was little, she'd wondered, like all children, if her family would grieve if she died. She'd decided then, and the feeling was still with her, that they'd put on a good show and a week later say, Ivy who?
"It must be nice to cut classes when you feel like it. For God's sake, Ivy, don't you have any decent clothes? Why do you insist on humiliating us by wearing those bib overalls and those stupid wooden clogs?" Lacey called out.
"To annoy you," Ivy said over her shoulder. "I'm carrying a 4.0 so I can do what I please. Is it my fault you came out of school knowing less than when you went in?" She turned and faced her sister, riled up now. "You're a slut, Lacey. You know it and I know it. Someone should tell Riley what you're really like." She jabbed home with, "Obviously, someone clued Cole in. He smartened up and dumped you, and Riley caught you on the rebound. He deserves better than you." Ivy's voice was bitter and angry. She was annoyed with herself for speaking out. She knew better, but Lacey always managed to get her going.
"And that someone is you, right? I've seen you look at Riley with those lovesick eyes. He wouldn't give you the time of day, so forget it. I'm going to marry him, and where does that leave you?"
Ivy snorted, a manly sound that grated on Lacey's nerves. "Praying that Riley comes to his senses before it's too late. You'll ruin his life. Doesn't that bother you at all? Of course not; you have no feelings. Watch my lips, Lacey. You-are-a-snake-a-tramp-a-slut." Ivy enunciated each word slowly and clearly.
Lacey recoiled. It would be just like Ivy to push her off the chair or take a swing at her. "Testy, testy. Guess unrequited love does that to people."
Ivy wanted to strangle her sister. She hated this gutter talk. She never should have come home, but she'd felt the need to
{no
see Riley, to talk to him, even for just a few minutes. Each visit somehow sustained her to the next one.
There was no reason for Riley to even look at her. Compared to Lacey, she was a shaggy dog. If Lacey was a Rolex, she was a Timex. Durability and good service weren't desirable qualities these days. She wanted to cry, to scream that she deserved more. Instead, she favored her sister with a final scathing look. "All I can say is Cole was one smart dude unloading you. I think I'll drop him a note and congratulate him. Have a nice day, and if anyone should ask, I'm driving back to school."
"Good riddance," Lacey sniped. The minute Ivy was gone, she regretted the words. She actually liked Ivy. She felt sorry for her, but for some reason, jealousy probably, they fought like cat and dog. Ivy was going to make it, and when she did, she'd know she'd done it on her own.
Lacey sat at the table for a long time, picking at the loose threads on the cuff of her dressing gown. When she'd unraveled the entire cuff, she tossed it carelessly across the table. It didn't matter. Cole had seen this particular dressing gown before.
Riley pushed the baseball cap farther back on his head. He watched the rusty Mustang eat up the snowy road, the white flakes spiraling backward like a low-slung tornado. He grinned in spite of himself; a storm outside the car and another tornado inside it. The analogy between Ivy Buckalew and a tornado was fitting. Lacey's little sister, Lacey's intelligent little sister, black sheep of the Buckalew family. Riley liked her. He saw through her defensive facade of abrasiveness and hostility. Get them first, get your licks in, and you don't get hurt was Ivy's motto. The car drew up beside him.
"Yo, Riley, how's it going?" Ivy shouted over the sound of the engine.
"Yo, yourself," Riley said, grinning. "I can't believe this old car is still running. Don't you ever have it serviced?"
"Every five years," Ivy quipped. She got out and flung her arms around Riley. "I miss talking to you. I do talk about you, though. To my professors."
There was something different about this hug. In the last year Ivy had changed. She protruded and indented in all the right places. The bib overalls and sheepskin jacket were bulky, deceiving, but his arms told the truth. And she must have a
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new haircut or something. He commented on the change in her.
"I thought you'd never notice. I lost eighteen pounds. Young men vie for my attention, if you can believe that. I'm still a virgin, though."
This was Riley's cue to say, "Keep it that way; you're supposed to save yourself for me." The words were on the tip of his tongue and he could see Ivy waiting, but the old camaraderie between them was gone. Ivy'd grown up when he wasn't looking. He felt a keen sense of loss. He smiled, but it was forced. "You make sure if one of those guys does catch you that I get to put my seal of approval on him. Pretty soon you're going to be my sister, and someone has to watch out for you."
"I don't want to be your sister, Riley."
"Be my friend then. Okay?"
Ivy wanted to cry. She didn't want to be his sister and she didn't see how they could just remain friends. Sooner or later she would give her feelings away, or someone would pick up on it. Her family would mock her and beat her into the ground. Riley would be embarrassed and wouldn't be able to look at her. He'd start to avoid her. Seeing him on her visits home, his chatty letters, and the occasional phone call kept her going. But it was all starting to go awry. Riley, always astute where she was concerned, was picking up on something. When he married Lacey, things would never be the same. Maybe she was naive, but she didn't know how a guy could pick up his cousin's leftovers and still be friends with that cousin as though nothing had happened. Wouldn't he always wonder and be reminded of what Cole and Lacey had had together? Didn't he wonder if Lacey compared him with Cole? Couldn't he see that Lacey was still in love with Cole? Poor, dumb, wonderful Riley.
Ivy smiled, a smile that was no more genuine than Riley's. "I'll always be your friend, Riley. No matter what I have to get going. I have a long drive ahead of me."
"Don't your parents worry about you in that car? It's a death trap. Why can't you fly, like everyone else?"
"I do some of my best thinking when I'm driving. I'm careful, and this little gem only looks terrible. Sound as a dollar. I'll tell you what, you worry about me, okay? Then I'll feel special. My parents have forgotten me already. They know I can take care of myself."
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"Now, that's a defensive statement if I ever heard one," Riley muttered.
'The next thing you'll be telling me is I don't have a right to be defensive. Pretty little delicate Lacey, the firstborn and the apple of Mommy's and Daddy's eye. Sweet, wonderful Lacey, who only has to pout to get what she wants. I'm the only one in the whole damn family that has a brain, and you know it. I should have said a brain that's used on a daily basis," she snapped.
Ah, this was the old Ivy. Sharp-tongued and cynical. He said what he always said when she went through her routine. "Use that brain every day and make me proud of you. Call me when you get back to school so I know you got there okay."
"I don't need a wet nurse, Riley, so stop acting like one. If I crash and die on the way, you'll have to read about it in the papers, like everyone else. Another thing. Don't believe everything my
father tells you. My old man has been known to lie his way through a few deals. Take that for whatever it's worth. I'm telling you this because you're my friend. That doesn't mean I don't love him," she added hastily.
Riley reached out to her and looked at her closely. She and Lacey were like night and day. He pulled her to him and hugged her, aware now of the warm, clean smell of her. She felt soft and comfortable. Lacey was always hard and stiff in his arms, and she smelled of powder and perfume. He held Ivy a moment longer than usual, savoring the feel of her. He patted her head, and before he realized it, he was running his fingers through her soft curls. Lacy's hair was stiff and sticky, and it was always, "Don't touch my hair, Riley." He found himself nuzzling his chin in Ivy's hair. She made a mewing sound that reminded him of a hungry kitten. Her hair smelled wonderful and it was faintly damp. His grandfather liked Ivy. Come to think of it, everyone liked Ivy except her own family.
It was Ivy who stirred first. Gently, she pushed herself away and her eyes locked with Riley's. "You made a mistake, Riley. Lacey's not for you. Do something about it before it's too late. She loves Cole; she calls his name in her sleep. It's better you know now than later. I'm sorry if I hurt you, and you know I wouldn't do that for the world. I have to go now. I'll call you."
Riley watched the old Mustang wobble down the road, a
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cloud of black smoke shooting out from behind it. A small tornado.
Ivy Buckalew. Up front. Tell-it-like-it-is Ivy. Black sheep of the family. There were times when Riley felt himself almost as one with Ivy when he would see the deep hurt in her eyes. A kid, she'd always been a kid, a pesky kid. Until today.
Riley squinted in the cold winter sunshine. He realized suddenly that he hated winter. There were a lot of things he hated lately, it seemed, but Ivy Buckalew wasn't one of them. The ominous warning she'd given him about her father and sister made him hunker into his sheepskin jacket. All she'd done was reinforce his own thoughts. Hearing them voiced by Ivy only made them more serious. He had to pay attention.
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