"Then let's do it!" Simon said, rubbing his hands together,
his face gleeful at the prospect of what Fanny had just said. The same look was back in his eyes. Fanny felt a chill race down her spine.
"I can't, Simon. Life got in the way this morning. I made promises and commitments and I have to honor them. That's what life is all about. At least my life. It's tearing me apart, Simon, but I have no other choice."
"One always has choices, Fanny. Tell me straight out what it is you're trying to say."
In a flat monotone, Fanny told him everything, starting with the Colemans, Sunny's health, young Billie's newest brainchild. "Then there's my mother to find and the old business of Jake that has to be brought to closure. You promised to put an investigator on finding Jake. I keep forgetting to ask you if you found out anything."
"The last report was a big zero. The man dropped off the face of the earth. I did try, Fanny. You need to chalk it up as one of those little mysteries in life that will never be solved. As far as I'm concerned, Jake's money is yours." Simon sucked in his breath and let it out with a loud swoosh of sound. "You're making a mistake, in my opinion, in regard to Billie Coleman."
"No, Simon, I'm not. Maybe this is something only a mother understands, then again, maybe not. Billie's son was flying a defective Coleman plane when he died. The Thorntons own the controlling interest in Coleman Aviation. What kind of person would I be if I turned my back on Billie now? Her son died! Other mothers' sons died in planes of ours that were defective. That has to be made right, and the only ones who can make it right are Billie, her granddaughter, and me. Sawyer is as committed as we are. It's almost as though God put Sawyer on this earth to finish Billie's husband's plane. Maybe it really is a mother thing. I know the monies I'll be giving her won't be enough, but we'll worry about that later. We're family, Simon. Sallie would want me to do what I'm doing. Me, Fanny Logan Thornton wants it, too. This is who I am, Simon, and I can't change. I will not turn my back on Billie. Right now I'm all she has, and I know what that feeling is like."
Fanny felt her insides cringe at the coldness she saw reflected in Simon's eyes. "Why do you ask my opinion on things if you have no intention of following my advice?" he asked. "You could lose everything, Fanny. Have you thought about that?"
"Yes. That's all I've been thinking about. We put it to a family vote this morning. Birch and Ash are against it, but then they have an ulterior motive, they want to buy riverboats in Biloxi, Mississippi, for gambling. Ash never liked Biilie Coleman. He blamed her for my independence. I heard him tell Moss Coleman he would help in any way he could when it came to building this new plane. With Moss dead, he's reneging. I don't like that. In my eyes, a person is only as good as their word. I can, and I will, live with my decision. You're to sell everything off, Simon, and wire the monies to the Coleman account by the close of business on Friday."
"With all that you could still walk out the door. You can lose your shirt here or somewhere else, somewhere where we're together." His voice sounded too cool, too practiced to Fanny's ears. He was upset.
"My daughter is going to need me. I want to be here for her."
"Sunny could come and stay with us for a while. This isn't working for me, Fanny."
"Sunny wouldn't agree to that. She has a husband she loves and who adores her. We aren't talking about a rash or some hair loss. Whatever it is, it's serious. I'm the first to admit this is all in my head, but I know I'm not wrong. Ash is going to do ... something. Birch is going way out on a limb. I need to be here when the limb comes down. I've made up my mind now that I will leave no stone unturned in finding my mother. I'm going to do this, Simon. You're being obstinate."
"Where does that leave me? I do not care for the word obstinate at all. Do you ever plan on marrying me?'' His voice was icy cold when he said, "It always comes back to Ash."
"Oh, yes, Simon. Yes, yes, yes. I just can't give you a time
or a place. What we have right now is working. Isn't it? You need to take Ash's name out of your vocabulary."
4 'Not for me. You made your decisions. I made my decisions, too. What we're faced with is a stalemate. You won't or can't budge and neither can I. / don't like to lose, Fanny."
Simon's voice was so strange, Fanny started to cry. "You're making this sound like a . . . contest of some kind, you against me. Then you throw Ash into the same pot. Please, Simon, try to understand."
"Fanny, I do understand. I understand, but I can't accept it. I want a life. There's no point in rehashing this. I'll leave now, but I have to borrow your car. I'll call you and tell you where it is at the airport. I'll take care of your business before I leave."
"Simon, wait ... we're grown adults, surely we can work this out and come to a decision we can both live with. It can't be your way all the time, Simon. It just can't. I need you."
"And I need you. I'm walking out that door, Fanny, and I'm going to close it. Daisy is right here. There's your purse on the table. Your choice, Fanny, your call."
Go! Go! Go! Fanny's mind shrieked when the door closed behind Simon. Daisy was in her arms. She picked up her purse from the table, her eyes going to a framed picture of herself with her children under the cotton woods. She stared at it for a long minute before her shoulders slumped. Daisy jumped from her arms the same moment her purse thudded to the floor.
Simon waited on the other side of the door, but not for long. She wasn't going to open that door. He turned and walked up the path to the courtyard where the car was parked.
Inside the studio, Fanny watched from behind the curtains. "Come back, Simon, please come back." The sound of the car's engine turning over drove her to one of the big red chairs. "Good-bye, Simon."
His shoulders rigid with anger, Simon floored the gas pedal as he started down the mountain. He found himself blinking as he tried to dispel the rage that was rivering through him.
Where in the hell had he ever come up with the idea that Fanny would bow and bend to his will? For some reason he'd thought her pliable, with a sapling strength. She was proving to be a goddamn three-hundred-year-old oak that would outlast him and anyone who crossed her path.
Simon's foot pressed harder on the accelerator. He was being stupid, this mountain road was something he needed to respect. His foot eased up a little. He changed his mental gears. Ash and the kids. That's what it came down to. It would always be Ash and the kids versus him. Fanny didn't need to hit him over the head with a sledgehammer. Everything she said or did involved Ash in some way or the kids. "I can't and I won't accept that."
Simon rolled down the window before he turned on the radio. The music blasted through his head and on out the window to ricochet down the mountain. He flicked the radio off before he maneuvered the car around a murderous curve in the road.
"We'll just see about that. I told you the truth, Fanny, when I said I don't like to lose."
He set the controls to cruise, turned the radio back on, then lowered the sound. Soft, mellow music filtered through the car.
It was a game. It was always a game. The kind of game he and Ash used to play. As in all games, there was a winner and a loser. The secret was patience. Wait it out, Simon, he cautioned himself. You '11 win because you always win.
Simon Thornton smiled. It was so true.
Simon Thornton stood, his eyes sweeping around the comfortable office where he'd spent the major part of his life. Months ago he'd separated his life into three stages; first, his years in the military, where he'd used someone else's identity just so
he could get away from his parents and his brother Ash. The second part was heading for New York where, with his nose to the grindstone, he'd carved out a business that made him a millionaire a hundred times over. The third part was Fanny. His reason for getting up in the morning, for living, for being. The time was finally here when he could stick it to Ash once and for all. It was supposed to be the best day of his life. The day he'd separated his life he'd decided his pie was to be cut in thirds b
ecause Fanny was the final slice. Now all he had was a pie with no topping. There was no reason to get up in the morning, no goal to shoot for in the living department. As for being ... well, he was tough, he could exist with the best of them. He knew how to go through the motions. If he wasn't happy who was going to notice? No one. Not one single person. Maybe Jerry.
He opened all the drawers in his desk, prolonging the moment when he would walk through the door and then close it. Jerry, his friend since childhood, along with all his employees, would have balloons, a cake, some champagne, and probably a present that everyone chipped in to buy. His eyes would burn when he shook hands, clapped others on the back, and then, finally, the bear hug for Jerry. Thirty minutes out of his life. After that he'd head uptown to his apartment to pick up his luggage, at which point he would be completely homeless for the first time in his life.
The urge to smash something, preferably Ash's handsome face, was so strong that Simon clenched his fists, then stuck his hands in his pockets. He was smart enough to know anger didn't solve anything. All he had to do was fall back and regroup. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Fanny was supposed to be here with him when he walked away for the last time to start their new life. His clenched fist hit the wall just as Jerry opened the door slightly and angled through it.
' That bad, huh?"
The pain in Simon's hand matched the pain on his face. "I suspect I'll get over it in about a hundred years."
"Is there anything I can do, Simon?"
"If there was, you'd be the first person I'd ask."
"I feel like I did the day we cooked up that scheme for you to use my cousin's identity. I bawled for days when I realized you were finally gone. Now I'm gonna bawl for weeks, maybe months or years. Simon, do you know what the hell you're doing? You waited this long for Fanny, what's the harm in waiting a little while longer? Ultimatums never work for the person issuing them. We both know that. What in the hell ever possessed you to do that?"
"I could see it all sliding away, little by little. I figured it was better to get on with it. I don't like parts of things, little bits of this or that. When two people love each other they should be able to work together to make a good life. Like you and your wife. Fanny had her mind made up before I got up to bat. I don't want to talk about this, Jerry."
"You still haven't told me where you're going. You're going to write and call, aren't you?"
"Sure."
"You really are going to stick a pin in the map. Jesus, Simon, that's not romantic at all. It's stupid. Why don't you just get in the truck and drive till you run out of gas? That makes a little more sense. Simon ..."
"Don't fall apart on me, Jerry. Right now I feel like I was put together with spit and chewing gum. I need ... I need to walk out of here all in one piece. We'll always be best buddies. We both know that. I'll be in touch. Finish up Fanny's business for her. All the wheels are in motion. She wanted it all done by the close of business today. Get rid of the damn map on the wall. Okay, buddy, let's get this show on the road."
The banners and streamers were colorful, his employees shouting, "bon voyage" as champagne corks popped. Shrill whistles and hoots of "You're going to hate retirement," rocked against the walls. "Speech, speech!"
"C'mon, I'm not a speech maker. Thanks for your loyalty and for the good job you've done all these years. I'm going to miss all of you. End of speech."
Someone said, "Jerry went to get something for you."
"It better fit in my Rover."
"Oh, it will fit," Jerry said, leading two small dogs into the room. "This is Tootsie and this is Slick. They've had all their shots. They're hale and hearty. Total weight is a little over six pounds. Slick's the heaviest. Tootsie, as you can see, is delicate. We were going to get you one of those man dogs so you could call him Duke or Spike, but these little beauties beckoned. They're called Teacup Yorkies. They're trained and both have been neutered. They understand one command; freeze! They're seven months old. Say something, Simon."
"I guess they'll fit in the Rover," Simon said as he nuzzled the tiny dogs under his chin. "This wasn't in my game plan."
"I know," Jerry said. "I put their gear in your truck. You might have to pile your stuff on the top. Listen, I gotta go," Jerry said with a catch in his voice.
Simon bit down on his lower lip. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, everyone. I'll send a postcard."
The clock in the lobby said it was 1:10 when he walked toward the doors that led to the underground garage. At 2:20 he drove onto the New Jersey Turnpike, heading south, Tootsie and Slick nestled in his lap.
Fanny slipped from her bed, her eye on the digital clock on the nightstand. Her suitcase stared at her like a single malevolent eye. Last night she'd pulled it out and then replaced it in the closet seven times. Then she'd cried herself to sleep. She'd woken at 2:30 and called Bess and said, "I'm going. I'll be in touch." At 3:05 she'd called her again and said, "I changed my mind." It was now 4:25.
Fanny's eyes were wild as she looked around her studio. Her little corner of life. Empty. Daisy whimpered. "As much as I love you, Daisy, you aren't enough. Get your stuff and pile it up by the door. We're going to New York! I'm not giving up Simon for anyone."
She was a whirlwind then as she stripped off her clothes while dialing the airport to have the Thornton plane readied
for her trip. "Don't even think about telling me it can't be done! You do it!" She showered, dressed, gulped a cup of yesterday's leftover coffee before she snatched Daisy's gear and stuffed it into a shopping bag. The last thing she did was scribble a note that she left on her drafting table.
Fanny burned rubber, something she'd never done in her life, as she careened down the mountain. An hour later she was running toward the Thornton plane, the shopping bag slapping against her leg, Daisy jostling up and down in her arms.
"Fanny!"
"Bess! Oh, Bess, this is the right thing, isn't it? How did you know? I called back and said I wasn't going. It feels right. Tell me it's right."
"It's right, Fanny. I'm glad you came to your senses. I know you better than you know yourself. You love Simon, and he loves you. Call me and let me know where you are and what I can do. Give Simon a big hug for me. I want to be your matron of honor, and I don't care if it's in Zamboranga. Promise."
"Oh, Bess, I promise. Thank you for . . . being you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Gotta go. Life is wonderful," she called over her shoulder as she climbed the metal steps. She turned and waved and then blew her best friend a kiss.
In less than twelve minutes she was airborne. In just a few hours she would be in Simon's arms. In her bag she had a map and two pins. "I love him, Daisy, so much it hurts. They don't make bandages big enough to cover that kind of hurt." She leaned back into the depths of the cushioned seat.
The Thornton jet set down at 12:30 Eastern Standard Time. Fanny barreled down the steps and ran across the tarmac to the terminal where she looked around wildly for a sign that would direct her to the transportation area. She ran again, jostling people in her hurry to get to the taxi area. "Wall Street," she gasped as she tossed the shopping bag onto the backseat. "Soon, Daisy. Hurry, driver."
Fanny leaned back against the cracked leather seat. Why was she in such a hurry? Close of business meant five o'clock. The market closed at four. She had plenty of time before Simon
walked out of his office building at five-twenty. Her breath exploded in a loud sigh. So close yet so far away. I'm coming, Simon, I'm coming.
Fanny thrust a twenty-dollar bill at the cab driver. She ran to the door, Daisy whimpering at these strange circumstances. She woofed once when she picked up Simon Thornton's scent near the elevator. "Shhh," Fanny said.
Fanny burst through the doors of Simon's offices, her hair in wild disarray, the dog yipping in her arms to see a sea of faces staring at her. She was aware instantly of the balloons, the cake that hadn't been cut, Jerry's tortured face. She could feel the scream starting to build in her throat. "Where is he, Jerry?"<
br />
"Fanny ..."
"Jerry . .. did ... is he gone, Jerry?"
"I'm sorry, Fanny. He left ten minutes ago. I know he was headed for his apartment to pick up his luggage. Then ... he wouldn't tell me where he was going. He said he'd write ... he said that once before and I got two letters in ... maybe you can catch him. Try, Fanny."
"Call him, Jerry, tell him I'm on my way. Tell him to wait. Please, Jerry."
"I can't, Fanny. His phone was disconnected yesterday. He dumped all that stuff he used to carry around in a Dumpster and he ripped out his car phone."
Fanny started to cry.
"C'mon, we'll take the express elevator. I'll drive you, my car's in the garage. If he hit traffic or if he stops to say goodbye to the doorman or something, we might make it."
"Drive a hundred miles an hour. I'll pay for the tickets. Oh, God, this can't be happening to me. Pretend you're Mario Andretti, Jerry. Can't you go any faster?"
"Fanny, this is New York. It's impossible to ... try and relax."
"What will I do if he isn't there? Are you sure you don't know where he's going?"
"I'm sure. I wish you had come yesterday. Yesterday he
was lower than a snake's belly. I don't know what you'll do, Fanny. I guess you go on the way he's going to go on. Right now there don't seem to be many options for either one of you." His voice was strained and fretful-sounding.
Vegas heat Page 4