Ruby gasped. “You’re free!”
“Will be in two more weeks. I was planning a little trip your way. Was going to set my whirlybird right down in your chicken patch and surprise you.”
“You can’t do that. It will scare the chickens. We don’t have a patch. We have a yard, like in barnyard but big. You have a helicopter?”
“Hell, little love, I have a dozen of them. You want one? I can have it there by morning.”
“No. I. . . I just bought a jet. I’m keeping dad’s old plane, though. Sage and Birch like to fly. I bought it for them.”
“That’s mighty nice of you. Okay, sweet baby, enough of the polite talk. Why did you call me at this time of night? Are you in trouble?”
“I think so. I just want to tell someone in case . . . you know, let . . . there is nothing you can do. Do you still want to marry me?”
“Do birds want to fly? Didn’t you just hear what I said?”
“I didn’t hear you say, ‘Will you marry me, Ruby?”’
“I was going to do that in your barnyard after you give me the tour. On my knees. Chicken poop and all.”
“Really.”
“What’s your answer going to be?”
“I need time to think and can’t rush into anything. I’m not signing any prenuptial agreement.”
“Didn’t ask you to, did I? Does that mean yes?”
“No, it doesn’t mean yes. It means I’ll think about it. I don’t have a dress. Finding the right dress and shoes could take a long time.”
“Sweet love, we could do the honors in the buff. That takes care of that problem right off. I’d like to know so I can make some preparations. We want to merge right away. We can set Wall Street on its ear.”
Ruby’s voice turned testy. She realized her voice was back to normal, and her hands weren’t shaking. “It sounds to me, Metaxas, like you want my chickens more than you want me.”
“A long time ago you told me it was a package deal. Your exact words were, ‘Love me, love my chickens.’ Do you ever eat beef?”
“No. Do you ever eat chicken?”
“No. It pays to be up front with things like this. We’ll hire two cooks, one to cook for me and one to cook for you. Things always work out. You calmed down now? You sounded like a pregnant filly at the starting gate.”
There was a smile in Ruby’s voice when she said, “Pregnant fillies don’t run.”
“Exactly. My ears are open, sweet baby. What can I do for you?”
“Just listen.” The words exploded out of Ruby’s mouth like bullets. “I’m ready. I’m just waiting for Sage. I’m sure the airport’s closed. I need you to call somebody so we can use the runway. I don’t know how that works. I’m sure Sage does. If my brother could land on a flight deck or on a patch of cleared ground in the jungle, then my nephew can land in snow. You have my word that we absolve everyone of any kind of liability. Will you do it, Metaxas?”
“Of course I’ll do it. It goes without saying it’s a damn fool thing you’re planning on doing. You don’t even know if there is trouble. You could get yourself killed on a hunch. Where does that leave me?”
Ruby burst out laughing. “Alone without my chickens. It’s not a hunch or a whim. It’s my gut instinct and the instinct of my nephew who knows his twin is in danger. That’s enough for me. You’ve done worse things with less to go on, Metaxas.”
“That’s true, but I’m a man.”
“What the hell do you think my nephew is? Don’t go giving me that ‘Me Tarzan you Jane’ crap. This is the eighties. We women have been liberated for a long time. We had this discussion once before, Metaxas, and I thought we both agreed that the only thing you could do that I couldn’t do was stand up and pee in the bushes. And the only thing I could do that you couldn’t do was deliver a baby. Put those things side by side and there isn’t a woman in the world who would want to pee in the bushes. I rest my case.”
Metaxas’s low rumble of laughter tickled Ruby. He’d laughed like that in bed. “I’m going to follow you,” he said. “If the people I’m going to be calling know I’m going to be landing first, your chances are better. I can leave right now. We’ll probably meet up within the hour of landing. I don’t want to brag, Ruby, but I can set my plane down on a lily pad without damaging the petals. I’ve been skiing in Vermont more times than I can remember. I could find my way on the Molly Stark trail blindfolded. Assuming we’re going anywhere near the trail that is. As a point of reference the airport is close by. That doesn’t mean we’ll land at the airport. Trust me, sweet baby.”
“Then you’re my man. I think I will marry you after all.”
“In the buff or in a dress?”
“You name it. If we pull this off, I’ll be up for anything. You could have told me about Colette.”
“I could have. I didn’t know for sure if she’d change her mind or not. You being a woman of principle, well, I didn’t want to get you all fired up and then have to fizzle out. I want you to swear you’ll hang those pictures someplace where they can be seen. That’s a big part of our divorce settlement.”
“I promise.”
“Ruby, have you given any thought to how you’re going to reach the lodge once you land? How far is it from the airport?”
“I don’t know. Sage knows, though. He used to go skiing there with Birch and my brother Simon. Snowmobiles? Can you arrange that?”
“Of course I can. I can do whatever it takes as long as I know what is going on. This cannot be a Mickey Mouse production.”
“Are you going to fly alone, Metaxas?”
“I’ll bring one of the guys with me. Maybe I’ll bring my whole flight crew. I’m going to hang up now, Ruby, and get my show on the road. I’ll see you on the ground. You’re sure now that you want to marry me?”
“Damn straight,” Ruby said smartly.“I’m hanging up now, Metaxas, an updated weather report is coming on. I . . . I guess I’ll see you, in what, five hours?”
“More like six. Dawn. Eight or nine East Coast time.”
“Bye, Metaxas.”
“Bye, sweet love.”
Ruby flopped back on the chair, her eyes glued to the small screen. The bottom line to the five-minute update was that the freak snowstorm was increasing in intensity and there was no way to predict the exact accumulation of snow. The National Weather Service was issuing a blanket order for the state of Vermont, warning all residents to stay indoors and not take to the roads. Ruby felt herself crumbling. She jerked upright when the phone rang.
“I’m on my way. I’m not waiting, Aunt Ruby,” Sage said.
“I’m ready. Sage, I called Metaxas Parish. He’s going to make all the necessary calls. He’ll clear the way for us. He’s leaving now. He’ll probably get there before we do. He said . . . he said he’ll see us on the ground. He also said he can land his plane on a lily pad without damaging the petals. He asked me to marry him. I said yes. We can do this, can’t we, Sage?”
“We’re going to try like hell. I’ll meet you at the airport in fifty minutes. Be on time.”
“I’m out of here right now. Do you want me to call anyone?”
“I woke Iris and told her. She’ll call everyone in the morning. There is nothing they can do. It’s better that just you and I go. If you don’t agree, call whomever you want. I don’t think I’d call Mom, though.”
“I’ll stop by Celia’s and tell her. She might want to come along.”
Sage snorted. No words were necessary.
Ruby hung up the phone and turned off the television. She checked the back of the Range Rover before she climbed behind the wheel. All her bags were neatly stowed in the cargo area. High beams flashing, Ruby tore out of the parking area, cell phone in hand. She dialed Celia’s number three different times, letting the phone ring and ring. Each time the machine came on she said, “Call me, this is an emergency.” After the sixth call, Ruby called the main number of Babylon and asked to be put through to Neal Tortolow. When she heard his voice, sh
e identified herself and explained the circumstances. “By any chance have you seen Celia Thornton tonight?”
“As a matter of fact I just saw her heading for Jeff’s office.”
“I’m going to give you this number to give her. Tell her it’s an emergency and to call me right away.” Ruby rattled off the number. What was it Celia had said when she dropped her off at the apartment? Oh, yes, she was dog-ass tired and going straight to bed. What Ruby should have asked was to whose bed?
Jeff Lassiter’s face was ugly with anger when he slammed the door behind Celia’s back. “What the hell is this? You were supposed to be here at nine. I had everything set up down the Strip. It’s eleven-thirty now. If you don’t want to wear a watch on that skinny arm of yours, put it on your ankle. Or is it true what they say about dumb blondes and you really can’t tell time? Your mistake, Celia.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. In case you haven’t heard, I’ve been working. Hard. I know you know, because you say you know everything, that I’m the new spokesperson for Ruby Thornton’s chicken empire. There was no way I could turn that down. So I’m late, so what. That doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like that. Just watch it, Jeff, or I’ll slam you to the wall, and you won’t even have this office to diddle around in.”
“Just try it. We had a deal. You might be able to pull crap like this with your in-laws but it isn’t going to work with me. Don’t forget, I have those pictures.”
“So you have pictures, so what?” Celia hoped the jolt of fear she was feeling didn’t show in her eyes. Damn it, why didn’t I keep those pictures myself? she thought. Obviously her fear showed, because Jeff was smiling. She wet her lips trying to stare him down. She was the first to look away. She seethed inwardly, knowing Jeff now had the upper hand.
Celia was about to leave when a knock sounded on the door. She ignored Jeff’s warning look and opened the door. “Mrs. Thornton, I have a message for you. Miss Ruby Thornton asked me to give you this number. She wants you to call her immediately. It’s an emergency of some kind.”
Celia’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Call her back and tell her I’m not here.”
“I can’t do that, Mrs. Thornton. I already told her you were here. She called just as you walked back to the office.”
“Then call her and tell her you were mistaken or that I just left.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do that yourself. I’m not going to put myself in a position where I have to lie for anyone. For whatever it’s worth, it sounded pretty important.”
Celia snatched the paper out of Neal’s hand, slamming the door shut in his face at the same time. She stalked her way to Jeff’s desk to pick up the phone. She took a moment to compose herself, her mind racing to come up with a lie Ruby would believe.
Celia’s voice was tired but sweet when she said, “Ruby, it’s Celia. Is something wrong? I was so wired up I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come here to the casino for an hour or so and have a nightcap. I’ve been a night owl for years. Birch said he thinks I have vampire blood in my veins.” She emitted a little laugh that sounded nervous to her own ears. “Yes, yes, I’m listening.”
Lassiter pressed the button on the speaker phone. Ruby’s agitated voice poured into the room.
“Did I hear you correctly, Ruby? Sage thinks something is wrong. It’s that twin thing everyone talks about. He wants to fly your brand-new multimillion-dollar plane to an airport that’s closed and you’re going with him all because he thinks something might be wrong. You want to know if I care to go along on the trip. I’ll pass, Ruby. Birch told me many times he was a Boy Scout. Ski resorts make their living off snow. Every Sunday in the newspaper they have stories about the latest equipment they have when storms like this crop up. They have generators, deep freezes stocked with food, endless supplies of firewood, gasoline-powered snowblowers. They have all kinds of medical stations and units, ski patrols and, of course, the rangers. What can you and Sage possibly do that they aren’t doing except endanger your own lives and the life of that brand-new jet you just bought?”
“I had to ask, Celia. It was a courtesy. Sage and I are willing to take that chance.”
“Well, I’m not. Those weather forecasters blow everything out of proportion. For the past three days I’ve heard our own weatherman predict rain. I haven’t seen a drop so far. They prey on people’s fears and it fills up the airtime. Birch is very good at looking out for himself. Have a safe trip. I’ll keep up the work schedule tomorrow. By the time you get back the commercials will be wrapped and ready to air. The blowup ads are supposed to be ready for the print media late tomorrow. Have a safe trip and give Birch a kiss for me.”
“Talk about a loving wife,” Lassiter sneered.
“I can see the evil shining in your eyes,” Celia sneered in return.
“What you’re seeing is your own evil reflected in my eyes. You better get moving, sweetie. Tomorrow morning is going to be here before you know it. How are you going to cover those bags and dark circles under your eyes?”
“You let me worry about my dark circles. For your information, I do not have bags under my eyes.”
Jeff’s laughter followed Celia out the door. She was halfway across the casino floor when Neal Tortolow caught up with her.
“Mrs. Thornton, wait a minute. Can I offer you a ride to the airport?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not flying into any freak snowstorm because someone thinks something might be wrong. How asinine can you get?”
Neal blinked. “What if something is wrong?”
“That’s why they have trained people at those places. I don’t think being a Boy Scout is going to cut it in a situation like this. Trained professionals are what is needed. All Sage and Ruby are doing is endangering their own lives. By morning everything will be fine, you’ll see. Those weather forecasters are lunatics.”
“It takes one to know one,” Neal muttered.
At the airport, Sage did his last-minute check. “I’m on my way, Birch.” He crossed himself as he taxied down the runway. Three minutes later he was airborne. “Just hang in there, big brother, I’m coming as fast as this bird can fly.”
“Amen,” Ruby said.
12
Fanny stirred in the recliner. In her half sleep she knew the television was still on, knew the wind outside was stronger than before, knew she felt cold, knew the fire was low, knew that Billie Kingsley and Bess had gone to bed. She squirmed as she fumbled for the afghan she’d knitted in two days while sitting at the medical center waiting for a change in Marcus’s condition. She struggled to wakefulness as she tried to concentrate on the words bouncing off the television and, at the same time, challenging herself as to the color of the afghan she’d recently completed.
The cold won out. Tossing the colorful covering aside, Fanny staggered over to the fireplace, still groggy with sleep, to toss two large logs on the dying fire. The bark took flame immediately, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. On her way to the bathroom she noted the color of the afghan: three different shades of daffodil yellow. Oliver North in full-dress uniform glared at her from the screen. What exactly did a loose cannon mean? Ash would have known. She’d seen the marine’s face earlier on the six o’clock news and then again on the ten o’clock news. She decided she didn’t care what he looked like and didn’t care if he were in his skivvies or full dress. Loose cannons or patriots weren’t in her thoughts these days. Let someone else take charge of all the wrong or right doing that was going on in the world. For one split second she felt like throwing the brass lamp at the television. It occurred to her then, in the next split second, that all she had to do was press a button. Oliver North would be erased forever or until she turned the set back on. She could, of course, read the TV Guide to select an inane game show or cartoon or even a late-night rerun of some sort. Marines didn’t spout off in game shows or reruns of Gilligan’s Island. Or did they? Not wishing to take a chance, Fanny pressed the remote.
She was in the kitchen now. How neat and tidy it looked. Someone had watered the hanging plants and herbs on the windowsill. The red-and-white-checked dish towel was neatly folded on the side of the sink. Marcus always wadded it up into a ball and tossed it in the sink. She herself always hung it on the oven door. Green-checkered place mats were on the table. They didn’t match the red-checked cushions or dish towel. Maybe the red ones were in the laundry. She’d always been partial to the color red. Marcus liked varying shades of blue. They’d argued over the kitchen colors when she’d finally convinced him that blue in a kitchen was depressing. Her ironing board cover was red-and-white-checked. It seemed to make the ironing go faster, not that she ironed much these days. Color coordination was the name of the game.
Fanny fixed the coffee basket, plugged the pot in, and sat down to wait. She wondered if black coffee ran in her veins. If it did, so what? What would they give her if she ever needed a transfusion? Coffee or blood? She walked over to the sink to stare out at the night. How light and bright it was. A full moon. When she lived on the mountain, she’d loved to sit outdoors, even in cold weather, and stare up at the silver moon. Suddenly she wanted to cry and didn’t know why.
What would she do with her life if something happened to Marcus? She was too young to wither on the vine. She’d done her stint with Rainbow Babies and Sunny’s Togs. The challenge was gone. Ash was gone. Simon was gone. Suddenly she longed for Sallie to put her arms around her, to talk to her, a mother to daughter talk. She need to wallow, to cry and wail and have someone tell her things would be all right. “It ain’t going to happen, Fanny. You’re on your own,” she muttered.
Fanny trotted back to the den for the afghan. Carrying it and a mug of coffee, she walked out to the patio to settle herself in one of the wooden lounge chairs Marcus had made in his workshop. She smiled ruefully when she sat down. The left leg was shorter than the right leg. When he wasn’t looking, she’d used wood glue and stuck a small piece of wood she sanded down under the leg. It worked until Marcus sat on the chair. He’d added the repair to his list tacked on the garage door. She longed for Daisy to cuddle with. She belonged here with her. Tomorrow she’d go to the mountain and bring her, Growl Tiger, and Fosdick back. Life was going to go on, she needed to get back into her groove. It was time for Billie and Bess to go home, too. They had wet-nursed her long enough, pulled her through the worst days. Now it was up to her to follow through. She’d tell them at breakfast.
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