Vegas heat

by Michaels, Fern

  Fanny fixed her gaze on Daisy. "It hurts too damn bad to cry. You know what, Daisy? You are my most precious possession. You're always there for me, you love unconditionally, and you're loyal. You'd never, ever desert me, nor would I desert you. That's what love is all about. Why do I understand that, and Simon doesn't? It's over,'' Fanny said.' 'Love stinks." She banged her fist down on the oak table. Pain richocheted up her arm as she yelped in frustration.

  Fanny continued to talk to the little dog, who appeared to be listening intently. "This is how I see it. I have given myself a two-day holiday. That means I am not going anywhere near the casino floor or office. I'm going to cook, I'm going to watch television, I'm going to take naps, and I'm going to drink wine. In between all of that I'm going to take you for long walks. When it's time to eat, we're going to stuff ourselves because someone said that's what you're supposed to do on Thanksgiving. You and I will break the wishbone after dinner. Come here, Daisy."

  Fanny cuddled with the little dog, who tried vainly to lick at the tears dribbling down her cheeks. Despair, unlike anything she'd ever experienced, flooded through her. "All those magazine writers, they're wrong, Daisy. It's not true that you have to be vulnerable before you can fall in love. To fall in love you have to have the hide of a buffalo."

  Thanksgiving morning Fanny woke slowly. She felt Daisy inch up closer to her chest from her position at the foot of the bed. Fanny stroked her silky head as she stared at the ceiling.

  242 Fern Michaels

  Two marriages down the drain. To brothers, no less. Yesterday she'd cried her te&rs. Today was a new day, and it was Thanksgiving. Time to get up and prepare the turkey. Time to get on with the day.

  Yesterday was gone.

  "Time to go out, Daisy. Get your leash and we'll do a quick scoot down the service elevator and out to the back driveway. Maybe we'll do the long walk after breakfast."

  Fanny was back in the apartment and in the shower twenty minutes later. She dressed in jeans, an oversize sweatshirt that said WEST CHESTER and once belonged to either Birch or Sage. She stuffed her bare feet into ratty-looking sneakers with a hole in the big toe. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a rubber band, dusted her hands together, and marched out to the kitchen, stopping to turn on the stereo on the way. Soft music flooded the apartment.

  Fanny prepared scrambled eggs for herself and fed Daisy as she contemplated the menu for her solitary dinner. The turkey was large enough to feed her entire family with leftovers for at least three days. She would be eating it for at least a month. She must have been out of her mind when she was shopping. She had too many yams, too many marshmallows, too many cranberries, and just the right amount of wine—three exquisite bottles of the best the French had to offer. She'd baked a pumpkin pie, a mince pie, and an apple pie along with some apple dumplings the day before. The aroma was still in the kitchen.

  Fanny thought about other times then, other holidays when her family all gathered together. She'd been happy then, her children had been happy. Now, all that was gone. Now she was alone with only a dog for company. "I couldn't ask for more, Daisy," Fanny said, fondling the little dog's ears. "If this is all I'm going to get, we'll make the most of it."

  Fanny worked diligently, doing all the things necessary to preparing a holiday dinner. She used her finest linen tablecloth, her china, her sterling, and her crystal. Daisy's place was set on the floor next to her chair on a lace-edged linen place mat.

  Her bowl was Bavarian crystal, her napkin linen as was Fanny's own. Daisy liked to clean her whiskers after eating.

  Candles in silver holders graced each end of the table. The daily delivery of yellow roses sat in the center of the table, festive but lonely-looking. When the candles were burning, when the table was filled with platters and bowls, it wouldn't look so forlorn.

  "I used to like to cook," Fanny muttered. "This is a chore." The moment she slid the heavy bird into the oven, Fanny uncorked the first bottle of wine. She poured a generous amount into a crystal flute and sipped appreciatively. She read the paper, smoked, and sipped. By two o'clock, when she checked on the turkey to baste it, she had consumed one whole bottle of the exquisite wine. She carried the second bottle into the living room and turned on the television.

  When the movie ended at four o'clock Fanny decided to check on the turkey, whose instructions said would cook itself. "Good thing," she mumbled as she tried to focus on the browning bird. "I think it's okay." She placed the second empty bottle next to the first one. "We're having a good time, aren't we, Daisy?" Daisy yipped, either in approval or denial. Fanny wasn't sure.

  The phone rang as she was tottering back to the living room, the third bottle clutched to her breast. She debated whether she should answer it or not. "You gotta do what you gotta do."

  "Hello."

  "Fanny, it's Ash. I'm calling to wish you a happy Thanksgiving."

  Fanny heard laughter and Jake's voice on the other end of the line. "Isn't that above and beyond the call of duty, Ash? I wasn't going to call you, so why should you call me? Personally I couldn't care less what you're doing there with my family."

  "You sound funny. Have you been crying?"

  Fanny's eyebrows shot upward. "Absolutely not! You aren't worth crying over, and neither is that brother of yours. So there, Ash."

  244 Fern Michaels

  "Fanny, are you drinking?"

  "So what if I am. I'm cooking. So there again."

  "I see."

  "I see, I see. You don't see at all, Ash. You're too stupid to see just like your brother is too stupid to see. So there again and again."

  "How much have you had to drink?"

  "Is it important for you to know that?"

  ' 'Fanny, turn off the stove and lie down. Take a nap. Will you do that?"

  "No. Why should I? I'm sick and tired of doing what you want me to do. The answer is no."

  "Then I'll have to call Neal to shut off your stove. You sound sloshed."

  "Well, you should know. I won't let him in. I changed the locks. Go away, Ash. Go back to my family and pretend everything is fine. I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't want to talk to Simon either. So there."

  "What happened, Fanny? Tell me, maybe I can help."

  "Help! You want to help? You ruined my life, and now you want to help me! Drop dead, get out of my life! Wait, wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

  "I know you didn't."

  "You were right, Ash," Fanny hiccuped.

  "About what?"

  "About Simon is what. You said he was a bastard just like you are. He won't listen. He won't bend. Life is full of comp-ro-mises," Fanny said, enunciating the word for Ash's benefit. "I'm damn sick and tired of doing all the comp-ro-mis-ing. So there."

  "Fanny, I'm coming down there. I'm going to leave right now."

  "You better not. If you come here, I'll tell Daisy to bite you. She will, you know, because she loves me."

  "Will you turn the oven off and will you stop drinking?"

  "Til turn the oven off, but I still have some wine left. This

  is the last time I'm going to do what you tell me. I hate your guts, Ash Thornton."

  "Everyone in the world hates my guts. I'm going to hold on while you turn off the stove. After you do that, come back to the phone."

  "I'm not stupid, Ash. Did you hear me? I hate your guts."

  Fanny trotted out to the kitchen, opened the oven door, stared at the turkey for a few seconds before she turned off the oven. "I hate Simon's guts, too."

  "Did you hear that, Ash, I hate Simon's guts, too? So there."

  "I'll make it right, Fanny. I'll call Simon. He might listen to me."

  "You're toooooo late. He gave me an ... ultimatum. Go away, Ash. I don't want to talk to you anymore. You make me crazy. Did I tell you I hate your guts?"

  "Numerous times. I wish you were here, Fanny, I really do. This little reunion is fizzling. No one is comfortable. I mean it, Fanny, I wish you were here."

&nb
sp; "I wish I was too. Good-bye, Ash."

  Fanny stared at the hole in her sneaker. She wiggled her big toe until it worked through the worn canvas. ' 'Did ya see that, Daisy? I can accomplish whatever I set my mind to." She looked around for her wineglass. Damn, I must have left it in the kitchen. She swigged from the bottle.

  The doorbell rang.

  "Shit!" Ash must have called Neal to come up and turn off the stove. "Go away!" she bellowed. The bell rang again. Daisy barked and wouldn't stop.

  "All right, all right!"

  Fanny opened the door with a wide flourish, waving the wine bottle as she did so.

  "Mrs. Thornton."

  "Yep, that's me, two times. Soon to be ex for the second time. And you are . .. the shoemaker ... the shoe man ... the man with the shoes . . . Roses. They're on the table. I guess you came to see for yourself. Or did you come to see if I turned off the oven? Who cares? Do you want your shoes back?

  246 Fern Michaels

  Look!" Fanny said, wiggling her foot with her toe sticking out of the sneaker. "It was hard to do that, but I did it." She took a long pull from the wine bottle as she stood aside for Marcus Reed to enter the apartment.

  "Did I invite you for dinner?"

  Marcus smiled. "No, I invited you."

  "Oh. Ash made me turn the oven off. Dinner's going to be late. Maybe there won't be any dinner. Daisy is hungry."

  "I'm a very good cook. Do you want me to finish your dinner for you?"

  "Why would you want to do that?" Fanny asked suspiciously.

  "Because you're in no shape to do it. There are a lot of starving people in the world, and it's a shame to waste food."

  "You're absolutely right," Fanny said smartly.

  "If I make some coffee, will you drink it?"

  "I love coffee. I drink coffee all day. I hate Ash's guts. I hate Simon's, too."

  "Tomorrow you'll feel different."

  "Oh no I won't. What are you doing here? Do you know I'm married?"

  "I know now. Are you happily married? Marriage is a wonderful institution."

  "Yes. No. I don't think so. You have to turn the oven on to make it work. It was almost done when Ash made me turn it off. I used to like to cook. I hate cooking. I hate everything."

  "That's not good, Mrs. Thornton."

  "Why not? You can call me Fanny. I wear those shoes all the time. That was very clever of you. Did you see what I did with the roses and the wine bottles?"

  "Yes, I did. You have to put water in the bottles or the bloom will die."

  "That's sad. I don't like it when things and people die. Do you?"

  "Of course not. Why are you alone today, Fanny? Don't you have a family?"

  "I have a family all right. They didn't invite me. Do you

  believe that? I love them all so much. I was a good mother. I know I was. I never had a mother, so I made sure I was the best mother I could be. I make one mistake and ... it's none of your business, Mr. Reed."

  "That's true. It isn't."

  Fanny did her best to focus on the man standing in her kitchen. "Sallie would never have let it get this far. I'm like Sallie sometimes. For a long time I wanted her to be perfect. She wasn't. I'm not either. That's a perfect-looking turkey. Do you think this coffee will make me sick? I only got drunk once in my life. Me and Sallie."

  Marcus Reed chuckled. "What was the question again?"

  "I don't know. Can't you remember?"

  "No. Did you make these pies?"

  "Every last one," Fanny said proudly.

  "I think things are under control. What time would you and Miss Daisy like to dine?"

  Fanny tossed her hands in the air. "Are you joining us?"

  "If you would like me to, then I'd be honored."

  "What should we do now?" Fanny asked.

  "I think you should take a nap. I'll watch the football game and the turkey."

  "That doesn't . . . seem . .. proper. I hardly know you," Fanny sniffed.

  "Isn't that strange? I feel like I've known you forever."

  Fanny could feel the bile swishing around in her stomach. "You shouldn't be around me. My family doesn't like anyone I .. . never mind. It isn't important."

  "Would you like to talk about it, Fanny? I'm a good listener."

  "No. Everyone says that, then they judge you. No thanks. I think I will take a nap. Do you promise to watch the turkey?"

  "I promise," Marcus said solemnly.

  Fanny's voice turned crafty. "Why should I believe you?"

  "Because I'm a man of my word."

  "Oh. You have lovely taste in shoes, Marcus. Will you call me when dinner is ready?"

  248 Fern Michaels

  ' 'Absolutely. Do you want me to answer the phone if it rings and if so, what should I say?"

  Fanny teetered over to where Marcus stood. ' 'Do you want to hear something sad, Marcus? No one calls me anymore. I do all the calling. All my life I tried to live by the Golden Rule. I always put everyone else first. Myself last. This is what it got me. I live with a little dog. I have two friends. That's it. That's the story of my life. It's sad, isn't it?"

  Marcus smiled. ' 'Yes. But things will change. When things look the darkest, a light suddenly appears."

  "I think you're wrong."

  "Why don't we talk about it after you've had a nap?"

  ' 'If anyone calls and their names are Ash or Simon tell them ... tell them—"

  "Yes?"

  "Tell them to go to hell."

  "Yes, ma'am, I can do that." Marcus turned to hide his smile.

  "I love these sneakers."

  Marcus threw back his head and roared with laughter. Fanny sniffed as she tottered down the hall to her bedroom, Daisy behind her. Inside her bedroom, she locked the door. She looked across the room to where the bed was. It was much too far. "Get me a pillow, Daisy." A moment later she was sound asleep.

  ' 'Simon, Ash here. I called to wish you a happy Thanksgiving and to ask you what in the goddamn hell you're doing to Fanny. She's spending Thanksgiving alone with her dog. Even I have to admit that's pretty sad. I talked to her today, and she told me you gave her an ultimatum. You don't ever give Fanny an ultimatum. Are you just going to write her off because she won't do what you want when you want it done? That's how you train a dog, not a wife."

  "Mind your own business, Ash. This is all your doing, you

  and that fucking casino. If it wasn't for you, Fanny would be here with me now."

  "I didn't twist her arm, Simon. Fanny has loyalty, something you and I don't have. Yes, I traded on that loyalty. Let me tell you, she's doing a hell of a job."

  "For what? So you can die happy?"

  "That's a low blow, even from you. I like to think it's my legacy. I wanted Mom to be proud of me the way you wanted Pop to be proud of you. Don't give me that shit that you saw a shrink and came to terms with things. You didn't any more than I did. Face it, Simon, we're both misfits, you in your way and me in mine. The only difference between us is you wore a three-piece suit. At least I look it in the face and admit to my screwups. Fanny told me she loved you so much she ached. That's a hell of a testimonial, little brother. I personally don't give a shit what you do. What I do give a shit about is Fanny's happiness. She deserves better. I know she's going to sell the casino when I'm gone. You must know it, too. Couldn't you have given her the year? Even two if I make it that long. Oh, no, that interfered with that new life of yours. You blew it. That fucking silence of yours, that withdrawal you use as a weapon won't play with Fanny. One last thing, don't come to my funeral. I'm leaving instructions with the kids if you show up they're to boot your ass all the way down the mountain. In other words, Simon, kiss my ass. It's beyond me what Fanny ever saw in you. Enjoy the rest of the day."

  Okay, Fanny, that's all I can do. The rest is up to him.

  "I guess my dinner was a bit of a disaster," Sunny said.

  "It wasn't that bad," Iris said generously.

  "Mom always made a great Thanksgiving turk
ey," Billie said. "Remember how we'd eat off the leftovers for days and days? The stuffing was almost better than the turkey. You should have invited her, Sunny."

  "No, I shouldn't have. Why didn't you cook dinner and invite her? Or you, Iris?"

  250 Fern Michaels

  * 'I was going to, but you invited us first. Sage and I thought you were inviting your mother. It was a slap in the face, Sunny. Does anyone know where Fanny was having dinner today?"

  "She was home by herself," Ash said. "She told me she was cooking dinner for her and Daisy. She said she had invitations but elected to stay home."

  "Oh my God," Billie said. "Mom was always the first one to invite people so they wouldn't be alone on Thanksgiving. Grandma Sallie used to do the same thing."

  "So now it's all my fault," Sunny cried.

  "Since it was your dinner and your invitation list, I'd say so. What kind of family dinner did you expect with Birch and Mom missing from the table?" Sage grated.

  "This was supposed to be a family dinner where everyone smiles and gets along. At least I tried."

  "You aren't Mom, so don't try and pretend you are. Mom is what holidays are all about. Don't even think about asking me for Christmas," Billie said as she started to clear the table.

  "Me either," Sage said. "Iris and I are going to her sister's house."

  "So go," Sunny yelled as she stumbled from the table.

  Ash stared at his son and daughter. "This isn't good for her."

  "She's stupid. Did she really think this was going to be a fun day?" Sage growled.

  "Yes, she did."

  "Guess she was wrong. You know what, I feel like shit," Sage said.

  "Me too," Billie said. "I was hoping Birch would call. I guess he won't since it's later in England if he's still there. Maybe he called Mom. Birch was always good about the holidays. I'm going to help with the dishes, and I'm leaving."