“If it comes down to it, which it shouldn’t, we’ll have Rafferty plead the case. Lord knows she’s dispassionate. Rafferty thinks he’s a nut job and her belief will run over nicely onto the judge,” Bel said.
“My mother says the human psyche is an unfathomable place,” Megan said, pulling out the file.
“Great, so I’m going to get all the nut-job cases,” Rafferty said, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Look, the association is a good client. They want a normal neighborhood and it’s our job to see they get it. They want the man and his body parts to go away but he’s within his rights to keep them, so buck up,” Bel said.
“So let me get this straight—you do bad clergy, Megan does slick businesspeople and I do whack jobs.”
“It’s an unpleasant world, Rafferty. But without those kind of people the world wouldn’t need lawyers,” Bel said. She took her copy of the brief from Megan.
“So I’ll see what my mother can do.”
“Don’t bother. I’m having a late lunch with her this afternoon,” Bel said.
Rafferty sat up straight in her chair.
“Great, you can tell us what we need to do when you get back from lunch?” Megan shuffled through the stack of documents in front of her. “He had an evaluation when they held him for disturbing the peace when the home association first started the complaint. I know it’s here somewhere.”
“What, someone threatened to take his jars away?” Rafferty said snidely.
“Something like that,” Megan said, preoccupied with her papers.
“I’m not coming back,” Bel said, studying the stack of papers in front of her and avoiding their gaze.
“And why is that?” Rafferty inquired. “Because we have plans,” Bel said.
“What sort of plans?” Rafferty said, staring hard at her mother.
“Girl things. Helen is taking a half-day off. If that’s all right with you. Now, did you find that evaluation?”
“Like shopping?” Rafferty said.
“Something like that. Now, can we get on with this?” Bel snapped.
After work Rafferty helped Megan carry out a box of depositions she was going to work on that evening. “I don’t know how we’re going to have any fun when you have all this work to do.”
“You’re going to help me. That’ll cut the time in half. Look, all we have to do is catalogue them and put them in some kind of useable order. The rest we can work on tomorrow.”
“Oh, goody. Isn’t that what clerks are for?”
“I’ll make it worth your time,” Megan said. She put her thigh between Rafferty’s legs as Rafferty struggled with the box and attempted to find her keys. She moaned softly.
“Can’t we put these in the trunk?” Megan asked.
“No, it’s full of stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?” Megan watched as Rafferty attempted to shove the box in the back seat.
“Things.”
“Rafferty, when are you going to tell me about your secret life?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The dirt on your shoes, the muddy tires on your car, the calluses on your hands. Why don’t you tell me where you go sometimes in the middle of the afternoon?”
Rafferty was quiet.
“Are you afraid I’ll laugh or want you to stop what you’re doing?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“It’s private.”
“Let me guess, you’re some kind of rustic camp S and M instructor.”
“No.”
“Okay, you’re a calf roper.”
“Closer.”
“Come on, what? We’re supposed to sharing our lives, not just our bodies.”
“All right.” Rafferty unlocked the trunk.
Megan peered inside to find a saddle, ropes, a set of bright red cowboy boots and several pairs of Wrangler jeans. She pulled a pair out and held them up. “Oh, baby, I bet you look hot in these.”
“Give me those,” Rafferty said, snatching the jeans back and shoving them back into the trunk.
“So where’s the ranch?”
“You really want to see it?”
“I really want to see the Wranglers but I’m willing to go sightseeing.”
“Megan!”
“Come on, let’s go. I want to know all about your secret life.”
“Promise not to tell?”
“I promise.”
They got into the car and Megan dug around in Rafferty’s CD collection that was strewn all over the car. “What are you looking for?”
“Some Lyle Lovett. I want to get into the mood of this cowgirl thing.”
“As a matter of fact, I do have one or two.” Rafferty pulled it out of her glove box.
“No way, really.”
“Yup.” She shoved the disc in the player and then pulled a straw cowboy hat from the depths of the backseat. Rafferty’s car was always a mess. “This might help.”
Megan stuck the hat on and then checked herself out in the rearview mirror.
“You look good.” Rafferty smiled for the first time all day.
Rafferty drove them out of Phoenix and toward a small town called Wickenburg. Megan had heard of it, a small town whose primary revenue came from the prison located nearby. Megan loved the desert with its giant saguaro cactus, dark green leaves of the creosote tree and the grappling prickly pear with its purple fruit hanging like Christmas tree balls. When she was a child and they had first moved to Phoenix from Chicago she had picked one up in the neighbor’s yard and came home screaming, her tiny hands full of cactus spikes. Helen had to take her to the emergency room to have them removed. Her mother hated cactus plants from that moment on and Megan had grown up in the only house on the block with a green lawn. All the other yards were rocky and filled with desert flora. Megan had been forbidden to go anywhere near a native plant. This, of course, made them all the more intriguing.
“I forget how pretty the desert is,” Megan said as she took Rafferty’s hand.
“And peaceful,” Rafferty replied. She turned onto a dirt road.
Megan rocked in her seat as the pearl-white Miata bumped along the washboard road.
“So where is this place?”
“Up the road a few miles,” Rafferty said.
Megan noticed her eyes getting glassy. “This makes you really happy, doesn’t it?”
“Very happy.”
“Did you always want to be a cowgirl?” Megan asked as she ran her finger around the hard callus on Rafferty’s finger.
“Absolutely.”
“What stopped you?”
“The law.”
“What, the town sheriff told you being a cowgirl was a no-no?”
“Not exactly. The law, as in my mother.”
“She wouldn’t let you?”
“I never asked but she wouldn’t have agreed. It’s not a proper profession,” Rafferty said, turning into the ranch.
Megan glanced up at the huge metal sign that hung overhead. It read The Lone Girl Ranch. “Great name. Hey, it’s for sale,” Megan said, pointing at the realty sign.
“I know,” Rafferty said, looking at the sign mournfully.
“You could buy it.”
“I couldn’t afford the mortgage.”
“How much?”
“Just a cool million.”
“Ouch!”
“It’s a hundred and forty acres, has four horse barns, a massive house and four guest houses, and most of the horses stay.”
“Wow! That’s a deal. Why are they selling?”
“Flo, the owner, is seventy. She says the place needs young blood.” Rafferty pulled into one of the parking lots by barn number four. “This is where I board them.”
“Board them?”
“Lighting and Thunderbolt. They’re two mares, one white and one gray and both absolutely beautiful.”
“You’re talking like a proud parent.”
“I am.”
“They
don’t sound like slow horses.”
“They’re not.” Rafferty smiled as if secretly proud.
“And Bel knows nothing about it?” Megan said, taking the bridles and blankets that Rafferty handed her.
“Nothing, and I expect it to stay that way.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Rafferty led Megan into the cool darkness of the horse barn. The smell of hay infiltrated her senses. Megan watched as Rafferty approached her horses, who took turns nuzzling her. She stroked Lightning’s brilliant white coat. Thunderbolt nuzzled her way in. Rafferty stroked her nose.
“Wow, she’s a big horse,” Megan said.
“And she can be quite testy. Lightning, on the other hand, is very sweet and will do anything I tell her.” She gave them each a carrot.
The horses neighed and Rafferty put on their bridles. She led them all to the fenced area just outside the barn. Lightning pulled at the bridle and came close to Megan.
Megan held out her hand and Lightning dipped down her head so she could stroke the beautiful white mare’s forehead.
“I guess she’s yours now. It appears she’s been waiting for you to show up,” Rafferty said.
“Really?”
“I got them both hoping one day I’d have someone to share them with.”
“I don’t know how to ride.”
“You will.”
Rafferty saddled up the horses and helped Megan get on. Lightning sat perfectly still while Megan tried to get settled. Then Rafferty opened the gate and they went out onto the open plains around the ranch. Megan still had her cowboy hat on and by the end of their ride she was doing pretty well. Rafferty smiled at her in the same way as when she had learned to fish. Lightning was a great horse and Megan patted her forehead and looked back longingly as they left. “When do we get to come back?”
“Soon. We’ve got to get through this nut job with the jar fetish first,” Rafferty said. Megan didn’t stop smiling the whole way home.
Up on the hill God and Gigi had stood watching them ride. Two women racing across the desert landscape looked happier than Gigi had seen two people look, other than Caroline’s face this morning after Gigi had ardently seduced her. It seemed relationships weren’t as hard as Gigi once imagined them. She bought flowers, made dinner, made love and behaved nicely to Caroline, which seemed to make her horribly happy. Gigi didn’t scope other women, came home on time and Caroline loved her.
“So those are the women we’re sharing the ranch with?” Gigi asked.
“Yes, their names are Megan and Rafferty. Megan is Dr. Kohlrabi’s daughter.”
“Hot chick, she never told me.”
“Nor would she ever,” God said, adjusting her silver belt buckle. It was a big as a dessert plate. She was dressed in a plaid cowboy shirt and Wranglers with red cowboy boots and a straw hat.
“Why don’t you just let them have the ranch? Horses make me nervous. I’m kind of an urban girl,” Gigi said, watching them ride off. Megan and Rafferty had stopped for a minute, probably wondering what two women were doing out in the middle of nowhere with no apparent transportation anywhere in sight. Gigi couldn’t explain it either. She had lain down for a nap after work and next thing she knew she was in the middle of a ranch.
“That’s not part of the plan. People will come here because you’re here and besides, you’ll need each other, trust me.”
“So this thing doesn’t end with the book then?”
“That is correct,” God said, leaning over and plucking a long piece of grass. She stuck it between her lips. “Isn’t this place grand?” she said as she looked out over the horizon.
“Yeah, it’s great if you’re into that kind of thing,” Gigi said. “You’ll learn to like it.”
“Like I have a choice,” Gigi muttered. “By the way, Randolph has stepped up production just like you asked so the book will be out by the end of summer. He says your punctuation is amazing. This is the best book he’s ever edited. I think he’s a little paranoid about editing the word of God.”
“As well he should be.”
Gigi smiled. It appeared God’s feathers were a bit ruffled over that last remark. “In the beginning was the word . . .”
“Exactly. All right, let’s go.”
“Good, I’m supposed to be napping.”
“You will be in a minute.”
Wednesday afternoon, Bel, Rafferty and Megan met with the homeowners’ association board. They were nice enough people living in an upscale development who did not want some grief- stricken man to display pickled body parts in his front window. It was a reasonable enough request, Megan thought.
“So, we’ve got a compromise solution,” Bel told them.
“Which is?” a large woman wearing a horrible floral dress that looked like it should have been someone’s drapes asked snidely.
Bel gave Megan a pregnant look. This one’s going to be a hard sell, her look seemed to say. Megan smiled nicely and explained the plan. “We get Mr. Mackowski to agree to remove the jars from the front window and put them in a curio cabinet. He still gets to keep them but they’re out of sight, and he gets some grief counseling to better help him deal with the loss of his wife, whom he dearly loved.”
“But they’re still in the house,” said a small, thin man with black-rimmed glasses who was holding hands with the large woman. He appeared to be her husband.
Rafferty started to say something but Megan kicked her under the table.
“Technically speaking, there’s no law against having body parts in your house. Ask any child harboring their lost baby teeth. Look, we just want to reach a compromise here. It’s going to be difficult to convince a judge to evict Mr. Mackowski. It’s a property rights issue and it could be a very timely and costly task to get this done. Besides, he shouldn’t have to lose his house because he thinks these things in jars are all he has left of his wife. Let him get some counseling and he’ll probably end up getting rid of them anyway. Just give him some time,” Megan said.
A mousy woman sitting at the end of the table burst into tears. “That’s so beautiful. I never thought of it that way.” She pulled a Kleenex from her white patent-leather purse.
“So why don’t you all think about it and get back to us next week. You know, going to court is not really much fun. It just looks intriguing on television,” Bel said.
The group agreed and Bel showed them out. When she returned, Rafferty was banging her head on the conference table.
“Those have got to be the most petty, stupid people I’ve ever met,” Rafferty said.
“They did look like they were out of some bad sitcom,” Bel said. They both started to laugh.
Megan smiled.
“You, however, did a great job of selling the proposal,” Bel told Megan.
“I thought I did a pretty good job of keeping my mouth shut, because if you only knew what I was thinking,” Rafferty said.
“Which is exactly why we didn’t let you talk,” Megan said.
By Friday, the homeowners’ association had agreed to the curio cabinet idea. Megan had gone shopping with Mr. Mackowski to find a curio cabinet because the whole prospect had him rather flummoxed. The mousy woman had brought him over a casserole and was going to drive him to counseling since he didn’t drive. It appeared Mr. Mackowski was petrified of anything mechanical.
“Okay, so the guy’s got some issues,” Megan said as she straightened out her desk. They were going riding tomorrow and she could hardly wait. Rafferty was taking her shopping for some jeans and cowboy boots so she was in a hurry to get out of there.
“Issues? The guy is a complete nut job,” Rafferty said.
Bel popped in. “Have a good weekend, girls.”
“Hey, Mom, what are you doing this weekend?”
“Oh, just some stuff around the house.” Megan noticed Bel didn’t look at Rafferty.
Something’s afoot, Megan thought. Bel seemed a little too happy about just hanging around the house. She tried to
distract Rafferty. “Are you ready?”
“Sure, see you later, Mom.”
Chapter Eleven
On Friday night after dinner, Helen watched as Bel drew the blinds and cranked up the air conditioner so Bel’s house would get a good chill. Helen shivered. Then Bel started a fire in the den.
“I always thought it was absurd that a house would have a fireplace when it’s so damn hot here all the time, but it makes the room,” Bel said, indicating the heavy cherrywood mantel and granite hearth in front of the large fireplace. The rest of the den was furnished with cherrywood bookcases, soft brown leather chairs and matching couch along with a large red oriental rug in the center of the room.
“I love this room,” Helen said, sitting down on the rug in front of the fireplace. She sipped her wine.
Bel put more wood on the fire and then sat down next to Helen. “I love you, you know that,” she said, her face serious.
“Of course I do.” Helen stroked Bel’s cheek. “And the feeling is mutual.” She put her wineglass on the end table, looked at Bel and said, “I’ve always had this thing about fireplaces and . . .” She stopped, unsure if she wanted to go on.
“And?” Bel prodded.
“Well, you know.”
“No, I don’t.”
Helen smiled. “Why do I get the idea that you’re teasing me?”
“Because I am. Tell me what you want.”
“I just always thought it would be nice to have a seduction scene in front of a fireplace with someone special. I know it sounds corny but . . .” Helen blushed and lowered her eyes.
Bel caught her chin and raised her head so their gazes met. “Why do you think we’re having a fire?”
“Oh, Bel,” Helen said as Bel eased her down on her back and kissed her softly.
Early Saturday morning, Megan awoke to find Rafferty sitting on the bed next to her. She was fully dressed. “Rafferty, what the hell time is it?” She squinted at the clock. “Six?”
They had stayed up late watching a movie, drinking beer and eating pizza in bed. It was utter decadence, followed by ardent lovemaking. Six in the morning felt like the crack of dawn. Megan wanted to go horseback riding, but nine would be fine.
Talk of the Town Too Page 14