The pain in her face is devastating. I silently curse Reena and change the subject. “What’s going on between Del and Paul?”
“Del’s father claimed his family once owned the tract where the oil was discovered. Way back then they didn’t have a clue about what was under the ground. They’ve been cattle ranchers for generations.
“In the late forties Mister Carpenter found some old boundary markers that he said belonged to his family and took Mister Darden to court. Seems nobody could find any real paper on the property or records at the courthouse. Since neither family paid taxes on it for years, Carpenter stepped up, paid all the arrears, and took the property.
“According to Del, his father swore there was some sort of hanky-panky going on. He said there were missing ledgers at the courthouse and the judge who ruled on the case knew about the oil and got part of the play when the field was tapped.”
“That’s terrible. Didn’t the Dardens try to fight it?”
“They never had an extra dime.” Susie shook her head. “The issue died with Del’s father, but Mister Carpenter put Del through high school and helped supplement his football scholarship.”
“That’s one way to soothe a guilty conscience.”
“Maybe so. After Mister Carpenter died Paul did the best he could to keep on making up for it. He gave Del the foreman’s job at Anacacho when Dawson was born. So, the oil issue only comes up when our ranch has a bad year and Del has a few pops.”
“I’m so sorry. It must be awfully hard on you.”
“Oh, we’ll make it. But trying to feed four growing boys is expensive.” She caresses the heavy bulge of her coming child. “I’m having a girl at last.”
“Oh, Susie, how wonderful.”
“And I’d like to name her Allie. Is that okay?”
My answer is to hug her tight. Then I look away to hide the painful stab I feel over my long-ago loss.
Susie puts down her cup and takes my hand. “So, what’s with you and Paul?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, Allie, you’ve never been able to hide things very well.” Susie lowers her voice. “Please be careful. Paul’s changed a lot in the past few years.” She sighs. “I suppose living with Reena would do that to a man. She’s never played it straight.”
I come to attention. “What do you mean by that?”
“The way she set Paul up. There wasn’t any pigeon shoot. It was Reena who left the message for Paul the minute Del’s dad called him back to Dewey on some emergency. Don’t look so shocked. You know she’d do anything to get her way.”
“Does Paul know this?” “Del doesn’t even know.”
Before I have time to assimilate that news, Susie drops an even bigger stone in the pond. “Did Reena tell you Paul’s been seeing another woman for some time and he’s not trying to hide it?”
That confirms everything. Susie has no reason to lie.
The distant rattle of the cattle guard beneath Del’s pickup pulls us from the tower and Susie and I say our goodbyes.
“Call me often. Please?” she whispers. “You make the day brighter when you do.”
“You bet I will. And you call me when my namesake arrives.”
I climb the stairs to my room and throw myself across the bed as Susie’s two pieces of news occupy my attention.
Paul is an innocent lamb compared to the conniving Reena. Then I realize there has to be some reason for my visit. But what? What do I have that Reena wants?
I try not to add the “other woman” to the equation, since my head is already engaged in mortal combat with my heart. Part of me regrets refusing Paul’s invitation to bed. The other lists all the sensible reasons why re-establishing a relationship with Paul spells doom. Finally, I escape by falling asleep.
It’s dark when I awaken. Voices and footsteps coax me downstairs. The living room is empty, but from behind the dining room, pots clank, plates clink, and pleasantries pass among the help on the other side of the kitchen door.
As I start toward the noise, Reena’s voice floats from above. “Wait for me.”
She glides down the stairs and pulls me toward the bar. “Cocktail time. Name your poison.”
“Wine is fine.” I settle on the stool and watch her deftly uncork the bottle.
My hostess shows no sign she over-served herself at lunch. In fact she looks fantastic. Every hair is in place and her makeup is flawless. I bet she still wears the same dress size she did in college.
Reena sported the best pair of legs this side of the Sabine River and came to Texas with a pedigree of sorts, being Smiley’s head cheerleader and homecoming queen two years in a row.
In contrast, I was Valedictorian of my class and Lampasas’s only female varsity golfer, but I was too tall to take part in the homecoming court and didn’t even try out for cheerleader.
The sound of ice knocking the sides of a glass distracts me from my dreary tick list as Reena splashes a generous amount of vodka, pours my wine, then lifts her glass. “Salut.”
I remember the old college routine. It was a joke among the three of us. We knew we wanted the wealth, but never worried about our health or the time to enjoy it.
I raise my glass and gently touch hers. “Pesetas.” After a sip, I say, “Mmmm, that hits the spot.”
Reena points to the sofa in front of the glowing fireplace and heads for it. Once we’re seated, she raises her glass. “Guess you’ve figured we’re eating alone.”
“Suits me fine. I came to see you.”
She starts to say something, then heads for the bar and a quick refill.
Reena slowly turns toward me, glass raised. “Is Paul still as good in the sack as he used to be?”
At that, needles of adrenaline course my body as spots spire before my eyes. To my horror I feel as guilty as if I actually committed adultery. I concentrate on relaxing my grip on the stem of my wine glass before I say as nonchalantly as I can muster, “What do you mean?”
She plops on the couch. “You might as well know, I asked Luke Hansen to follow you two up to Paul’s little lair.”
I almost faint from relief. Maybe he saw us kiss, but that was all he saw.
I take a few seconds to gather myself before I speak. When I do, my reply is a surprisingly steady, “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m an old-fashioned girl. No married men for me. Paul and I were just catching up. After all, seven years is a long time and we had a lot of ground to cover.”
“Oh c’mon, Allie, don’t tell me Paul didn’t at least try to make a pass at you.”
The proverbial lightbulb blinds me. I was her last ditch. Pictures of Paul and me in flagrante would certainly help her case in the divorce. Luke Hansen was probably the ugly man at the stables talking to Reena when Paul and I rode up. Well, too bad, Reena, you lose. I relax and take a sip of my wine, grateful I kept my wits about me.
Reena continues the attack. “Don’t think Paul has been saving himself for you, my dear. Goodness, no. He has his little routine down pat. First, he asks his target-of-the-moment to go for a ride.” She laughs to herself. “It doesn’t matter whether the ladies can ride or not. I’ve seen Miguel tie them to the saddle.
“Off they go into the sunrise, high noon, or sunset. When they stumble onto Paul’s little retreat, he leads the lady to the very convenient platform bed, tells her she’s the only woman that’s ever shared his special hideaway. Aaand, as they say, the rest is history.”
I start to speak, then remember the only way to Paul’s retreat is on horseback. Not even a four-wheeler could make it. How does Reena know these minute details when she claims she’s too scared of horses to ride?
Reena pours another drink and smiles through tears. “I know it’s over. It’s just a matter of time. Paul has never forgiven me for lying about being pregnant.”
Adelena saves the moment by announcing dinner and we move into the dining room.
Over delicious broiled striped bass in a sweet pepper sauce, we chat about the goo
d old days at the sorority house.
When Reena makes a few oblique references to Paul’s abrupt departure, I take the opportunity to ask about his shifting his business from San Antonio to Laredo.
“In the past few years the air traffic into San Antonio has become so congested that even though Laredo is about twenty miles farther, it’s a shorter shot. I engaged a CPA for Paul and he found us a bank. Too damn bad the bank found Fanny.”
“Fanny?”
“The next Mrs. Paul Carpenter.” We finish the meal in silence.
Reena doesn’t mention Paul again except to announce that Miguel has informed her the plane will fly me back to Houston first thing in the morning.
We down our coffee, mount the stairs, and part.
I sigh relief once the door clicks shut behind me. Relief that Reena didn’t insist on an after-dinner drink. Relief that Paul won’t be returning to tempt me.
Chapter 5
I BREAKFAST ALONE, then Miguel drives me to the waiting jet. There are a dozen questions I want to ask this quiet man who seems not only loyal to his boss, but very protective of Reena.
I get home just after ten and head to the basement to do a load of laundry. When I get off the elevator, I hear a dryer running. I’m not much in the mood for idle chat with one of my neighbors, but my blues dissolve when I see Duncan hunched before the window watching the laundry whirl.
He waves and I wave back, dump my clothes in the washer, feed it the required quarters and join him on the bench.
He puts his arm around me, plants a friendly kiss on my cheek, and says, “When did you get back?”
“Minutes ago.” Duncan is glad to see me. That’s all that matters. So I apologize. “Sorry about the other evening. Nothing personal. I was just venting.”
“I know. But it’s obvious you’re not happy with your present situation. Maybe the private side of the law would be more enjoyable.”
“Maybe so. But I’m not hurrying into anything.”
We sit there for a while, neither speaking. Watching laundry dry is a lot more interesting than one would imagine. For one thing, I discover Duncan has a yen for plaid boxers. I’m about to make some flip comment about that when he says, “How about a movie?”
When I reach my apartment, there are four messages on my machine. The parents’ usual Sunday call, followed by one from my sister, Angela, Duncan’s info on a one-thirty viewing of some foreign film at the Greenway Three, and Paul.
“I’m sorry about Saturday, but I knew if I didn’t leave Anacacho I wouldn’t be able to honor your wishes. I have to see you, Allie. I need to be with you. I’ll call this afternoon. Please be there.”
I erase the messages and return the phone calls. Angela is out as usual, but the parents are in. After I give a brief rundown of my week, Mom rhapsodizes over Angela’s latest modeling gig while my stomach crimps with envy.
I was five when I learned I would never be the “star,” no matter what I achieved. I’m sure Mom would have cut her tongue out if she discovered I was hiding behind the couch when she told a friend, “Angela’s our beauty and Alice is our brain.”
Even at that young age, I knew my mother spoke the truth. Angela inherited Dad’s high cheekbones, Mom’s perfect nose, and a tawny spill of wavy hair. A package that would later pull in a hefty six-figure income.
Despite all this, I love Angela and we have always been close. Though she’s fifteen months older than I, somewhere along the way, I became the big sister.
It’s a so-so movie, black-and-white with subtitles. Duncan is thoroughly engrossed, but all I can think about is Paul and the past. We spent only four months as a couple, but every memory replays in gold-tinged slow motion. Our first kiss. Our first night together. We were so in love. So passionate.
But the sad thing is, I don’t remember what we talked about. Did we share our hopes and dreams, or trade stories about our pasts? Come to think of it, most of what I knew about Paul came from Susie or Del.
I sneak a look at Duncan, his mouth open to receive the single bloom of popcorn, and realize I know almost as much about him as I do Paul.
Duncan must sense my distraction because he leans into my ear. “Great movie.”
I nod and try to focus on the screen.
It’s four o’clock. Duncan and I stand in front of my door. We’re in another discussion about the job. He’s been trying to persuade me to check Perkins, Travis, a local firm dealing in corporate real estate. He’s offering to set up an interview, when my phone rings.
“You need to get that?”
I shake my head. “The machine will catch it.”
I can hear Paul’s voice leaving a message, then silence.
Duncan can hear it too, but doesn’t pay much attention. Instead, he stands there staring at me. I think he’s trying to decide whether I want him to kiss me. I don’t, at least not now, so I give him a peck on the cheek, smile my brightest smile, and jam the key in the lock. “Thanks for the movie. See you tomorrow.”
I ignore his dejection and begin to edge into my apartment. Before I can close the door, Duncan grabs my hand and stops my retreat. “What happened this weekend?”
I can’t believe I’ve been that transparent. “Why do you ask?” “You shoveled your popcorn and never stopped jiggling your right leg. I bet you can’t tell me what the movie was about.” He’s moving inside my door now and shutting it behind him.
Did I do that? Scarf my popcorn? Jiggle? But Duncan’s right, I can’t remember one thing about the movie except it was a French black-and-white.
I’ve got to get him out of here before Paul calls again. “I guess I’m just overly tired. My girlfriend is having marital troubles and we stayed up all night talking. I’m sorry I was so distracted.”
Duncan relaxes. “If that’s all, I’ll beat it so you can get some shut-eye.”
When he gets to the door, he turns, voice low. “I care a lot about you, Allie. I guess you’ve already figured that out.”
I nod mutely, lifting my hand in salute. When the door snaps shut, I head for the machine.
Paul’s messages come on the half-hour, each filled with declarations of love. Weekends anyplace I choose, the jet at my disposal.
When the phone rings, I let the machine take it and hear panic in his voice. “I know you got to the Hobby terminal safely and I’ve checked the police for any accidents. Where are you, Allie? Or are you there and don’t want to talk? Please don’t do this to me. Not after this weekend. Not after you’ve given me reason to hope.”
To my surprise, I find myself analyzing his urgings instead of responding to them. He’s offering everything I’ve dreamed of for the past seven years. Why can’t I pick up the phone, tell him I love him? I reach for the receiver, then yank my hand away and stand staring at the machine.
The tape whirrs on in silence, then beeps, signaling the caller to disconnect and Paul begs, “Allie. Please.”
When he finally breaks the connection, I turn off the telephone and the answering machine and head for bed.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, giving me most of the long, dark night to do some serious thinking.
On the ride back to Anacacho from Paul’s hideaway, I treated myself to a small dream of a future with him. But at lunch, his volatile behavior toward Del, followed by his abrupt departure, gave me pause.
Despite Paul’s denial, Susie’s news of the other woman and Reena’s confirmation about someone named Fanny becoming the next Mrs. Carpenter still echo in my mind, drowning Paul’s pleas for a new beginning.
I punch a hole in my pillow and settle into it. The game plan has changed. Paul and I have changed. Time does that whether we want it to or not. What kind of future could we possibly have?
Chapter 6
IT’S THE LAST MONDAY IN APRIL. I have mixed emotions as I watch the grand jury pose for their “class” picture, then file out of the hearing room for the final time.
The panel—one of my best—included people from varied financial,
ethnic, and racial backgrounds. The foreman: an insurance executive, eligible bachelor, and man-about-town. He’s going to ask me out and I’m going to say no. Despite all this, I’m looking forward to the brief hiatus before the three-month May grand jury term begins.
I force myself from the air-conditioned building into the glare, and the heat knocks the breath out of my lungs. Spring is short in Houston. A week max, that occurs in early March. Today, the temperature is already in the high eighties with matching humidity. All we can do is pray for one more puny push from the north before the sauna kicks on for a good nine months, carrying the miserable summer and early fall seasons “to term.”
Duncan’s voice curls over my shoulder. “Going back to the office?”
I turn and look into a longish face that ends in a nice square chin. The mouth is a shade too wide and the nose a bit too long to fill the allotted space, but all-in-all he’s not bad-looking.
The thick load of files, clasped to my chest, bulges between us. “I sure don’t plan to lug these home.”
“How did the interview go with Perkins, Travis?”
“Great. Besides being impressive attorneys, I like them very much. I’m hoping they’ll make an offer.”
Duncan grins. “And I have an offer for you. Tonight I’m featuring a terrific pesto over penne. How about it?”
I have avoided dining “in” since my return from Anacacho and Duncan’s been a brick about it. Instead, we eat out, judiciously halving the tab, then usually hit a movie.
I’m back to the proper popcorn consumption level now, and haven’t jiggled my foot once. We are still trading nice long kisses, but only outside my front door. I’m relieved that Duncan hasn’t pressed me, and hope it’s because he’s serious about a long-term commitment.
It’s been almost three months since I made my decision not to see Paul. The following day I bought Caller ID. Just as I was installing it, Susie phoned to report she delivered and little Allie was feeding like a hungry puppy. She promised to call once she was settled at home and that was that.
Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery Page 4