“Myra, don’t do this to yourself. You’re obsessing. Nikki will handle it all when she gets back. I want you to sit here in the sun and think about how wonderful it will be when Nikki gets back. Why don’t you call the girls and arrange a meeting for the end of the week? Maybe the weekend. Whatever works best for all of them. I may be an hour or so as I also have to arrange for Julia’s return. She is hale and hearty so we do have something to be thankful for. I want your promise, Myra.”
Myra offered up an elaborate sigh. “Very well, Charles. I’ll sit here and count the leaves on all these flowers until you get back.” She couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “In the old days, they hanged horse thieves. What those high-priced lawyers did was worse than thievery. I say we hang ’em high, as soon as I can figure out how to do it . . . I think I’m going to call Cornelia Easter and invite her out here for supper. I should have called her when all this started. I’m sorry now that I didn’t. She is a judge, Charles, so she’ll have the inside details.”
Charles frowned. “Myra, I don’t . . . ”
Myra held up her hand. “Don’t go there, Charles. Nellie and I have been friends for fifty years. Good friends. Actually, we’re more than good friends; I’m her daughter’s godmother. Our husbands died within months of each other. We’ve laughed together, cried together, applauded each other and our daughters were best friends, too. That alone makes us closer than close. Nellie’s more like a sister than a friend. The way Nikki and Barbara were like sisters.”
“Myra . . . ”
The soft warning in Myra’s voice was something Charles had never heard before, “I told you, Charles, do not go there. I’m calling Nellie to come out for dinner. And I want you to ... to stay out of sight. I’ll call ahead and have her pick up some of our favorite Chinese from the Imperial Dragon.” Myra’s voice softened. “It’s all right, Charles, I know what I’m doing. I know you don’t always think I do, but this time I really do know what I’m doing.”
Charles chuckled at her words, but he sobered almost instantly when he saw the sudden bitterness in her eyes that didn’t match the soft tone in her voice. He felt a chill ricochet down his back when he realized Myra meant what she said about hanging horse thieves and people who abused animals. Just the way she’d meant it when she said she wanted to take on the justice system to correct their mistakes by forming the Sisterhood years ago. She’d acted on that thought, too. The chill stayed with him as he made his way to the war room where all missions of the Sisterhood were planned, plotted and executed.
Charles looked around his domain. It was so state of the art that it sometimes boggled even his mind. If only they’d had half of what was in this room years ago when he was in Her Majesty’s service, his cover might not have been blown. He’d been the best operative at MI6 and was on first-name terms with the Queen. It had been the Queen’s decision to send him to America with a new identity when his cover was blown, to ensure his safety. He hadn’t come empty-handed, though. He’d brought a list of contacts from across the world—old friends, operatives still in the intelligence business, as well as retired operatives who were only too glad to offer assistance when he requested it, just to keep their hands in.
In his youth, before going into Her Majesty’s service, he’d had an intense relationship with Myra when she was living in England with her parents. Because of her youth, Myra had had no say when it was time to return to the States. She’d gone back to America, her heart broken as was his, only to find out when she got there that she was pregnant. At her parents’ insistence she’d married William Rutledge, who died ten years later.
Charles had had no knowledge of her pregnancy or the birth of his child until he started to work as the chief of security for Myra’s candy company—a post arranged by MI6. And the rest was history. To this day, he had no idea if the Queen knew of his relationship with Myra or not. He rather thought she did.
How he’d loved Barbara and Nikki. Myra had wanted to tell Barbara that Charles was her real father, but he’d been against the idea. She had loved William Rutledge and Charles saw no reason to add to her grief by telling her that he wasn’t her biological father. But then Barbara had died not knowing that Charles was her real father. How he regretted that decision now.
His shoulders heavy, Charles finished his glass of ice tea. Woolgathering was for other people who lived and dwelled in the past. He needed to get his thoughts together and get on with the business at hand. Myra would do whatever she wanted to do, regardless of what he said.
Federal Judge Cornelia Easter arrived in a luxurious chauffeured town car complete with two female security guards. Myra winced at this new development. Nellie had told her that not a day went by when she didn’t receive a death threat. She was philosophical about it, saying it’s just the world we live in today.
The whistle in her hand, Myra blew two sharp blasts. The silent guard dogs that had been circling her feet raced off to the barn. Myra nodded at the driver to show it was safe to get out of the car.
Judge Easter was a buxom, round little woman with springy curls and twinkling eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. Her voice was raspy from too many cigarettes and her fondness for good whiskey, but only after hours, as she always said.
After the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek, the judge looked around in the late-afternoon sunshine and said, “God Almighty, Myra, when did you turn this place into such a fortress?” She pointed to the razor wire atop the electrified fence, the new state-of-the-art security gates and, of course, the pack of guard dogs.
Myra’s expression grew vague. “A while ago. We had a few spots of trouble a while back. It’s more a precaution than anything else. How are you, Nellie?”
“I’m fine, Myra, but I’ll be a lot better once you serve me some refreshments. Make it a double.” She turned to the security guards and their shopping bags full of Chinese food. “Girls, go in the house and watch television. I’ll be on the terrace. That goes for you, too, Malcolm. This is my down time. If I need you, I’ll call. Go along now. We discussed this exact situation on the ride out here. As you can see, there’s all kinds of security here. Do as I say,” Nellie said in her best courtroom voice, which had cowed many a lawyer. The security detail was no different; they scattered.
“We have a year’s worth of catching up to do, Myra, so let’s get to it. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I’ve been out here to the farm.”
Nellie plopped down on one of the more comfortable chairs, her eyes sharp and keen as she watched Myra pour whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler. “Skip the ice and the water. Today I need it straight up.” She took a healthy gulp before she set the glass back on the table. “Talk to me, Myra.”
“I thought we’d go for a ride after you finish your drink. You have riding clothes upstairs in a closet and we still have two hours of daylight.”
“That sounds like a plan. How’s Nikki?”
“She’s coming home tomorrow,” Myra said as she fiddled with the glass in her hand.
Nellie sighed. “Jennifer was really worried Nikki wouldn’t be here when she has the baby. Four more days, Myra, and I’ll be a grandmother. Then the christening will be in two weeks, with Nikki being the godmother. Jennifer wants Jack Emery to be the godfather. I know, I know, but these young people have minds of their own. Then, six mothers later, I retire and kiss that black robe goodbye.
“They’ve been friends since high school. The four of them went through college and law school together. The girls stuck together when Nikki decided to open her all-female law firm, and Jack went to the District Attorney’s office. When Barbara was alive you couldn’t find a closer group of girls. I have to tell you, Myra. Jennifer has kept me apprised of the goings on in that firm since Nikki went off to ... to ... recover. She’s on maternity leave now, but she keeps her hand in. What in the world was Nikki thinking when she hired that shellacked woman? It’s just my opinion, but she would have been better off to leave Barbara’s position open.”
Myra chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know, Nellie. Nikki doesn’t even know what happened. Charles and I will tell her when she gets home tomorrow.”
“She doesn’t know? Myra, for God’s sake, why didn’t you tell her? Nikki’s a trooper. She would have kicked that young woman’s ass right out of the firm the minute she got wind of what was going on.”
Myra took a sip of her drink. “That happened later, Nellie, after she was gone. Don’t think Charles and I haven’t agonized over this. We have, night and day. Our primary concern was Nikki’s physical and mental health. Don’t think I’m not dreading the moment I have to tell her what happened with the Barringtons. Aren’t you finished with that drink yet, Nellie? It’s not like you to be so slow.”
Nellie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m done. See?” she said, upending the squat glass. “It will take me five minutes to change. Leave the bottle right there on the table. I have a feeling I’m going to need a triple when we get back. Am I spending the night, Myra?”
“I think that might be wise if you plan on drinking your dinner.”
The round little judge walked over to Myra. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Nellie, I . . . No, you aren’t going to like it.”
Nellie reached up to put her hands on Myra’s shoulders. “For some reason, Myra, you always seem to underestimate me. Having said that, don’t be so sure. Five minutes and I’ll be ready to go riding.”
Myra sighed. “You’re a good friend, Nellie. What is it, fifty years?”
Nellie laughed, a robust sound. “Fifty-one and a half years. We met in Miss Dupré’s dance class. Neither one of us could dance worth a damn back then. We were ten years old. Time does fly, doesn’t it?”
“Sometimes, Nellie,” Myra said sadly, “time crawls by.”
Here is an excerpt from
another Sisterhood book,
VENDETTA,
which is Myra’s story.
Myra walked over to the kitchen door to peer outside. She eyed the temperature gauge and gasped. “Charles, it’s twenty-seven degrees! Good heavens! Do we have enough wood for all the fireplaces? We did have an oil delivery, didn’t we? We’re going to freeze down in the war room.”
“Darling, relax. We have two full cords of wood. I carried several loads in earlier this afternoon. Oil was delivered three days ago. We are not going to freeze. Don’t you remember, dear, we had special heaters installed in the war room in early September?”
“You’re right, I forgot. I am just so overwhelmed that I am finally . . . Never mind, it’s all I’ve been talking about today. Your ears must be sore by now. The girls are late, aren’t they?”
“No, Myra, the girls are not late. We said seven and it’s only six-thirty. Please try and relax. Do you think they will like my dinner? I thought about doing something fancy and elegant but decided that, with the weather, the girls might like some comfort food. And I know how you like my pot roast.”
“It smells wonderful, Charles. The potato pancakes are my favorite. We have both sour cream and apple sauce, right?”
Charles wagged his wooden spoon in the air. “I have it all under control, right down to the wine, salad and dessert—and no, I did not forget Murphy.”
“Oh, Charles, whatever would I do without you? Never mind, I don’t even want to think about that. They’re almost late.”
“Almost doesn’t count, my dear.” Charles pointed to the security monitor positioned over the back door. “I think they’re here now. I see Kathryn’s rig in the lead. I think they wait at the end of the road so they can all arrive at the same time.”
“I think so, too. One car is missing, Charles. The girls will want to know all about Julia.” Myra started to fret again. “It’s not going to be the same without her. The empty chair is going to . . . Oh, Charles, I feel like crying.”
“There’s no time to cry, Myra. I hear Murphy barking. I think that means he’s glad to be back. Open the door, welcome our guests. We’ll talk about Julia later.”
There were squeals of delight, backslapping, high-fives and hugs galore as the five women and Murphy raced into the kitchen. The jabbering was so high-pitched that Murphy went into the huge family room to lie by the fireplace.
“Oh, I missed you all,” Isabelle said happily.
Alexis dumped her red bag by the door and ran to Myra. She hugged her so hard, Myra squealed for mercy. Yoko, always subdued, clapped everyone on the back and then hugged them all. Kathryn ran around the counter to the kitchen window to see if Julia’s plant was still there. It was.
“Oh, God. Oh, God, it has two new leaves! Hey, everyone, Julia’s plant has two new leaves! We have to move it, Myra. It’s too cold on the windowsill. See how the leaves are limp. Where can I put it? Yoko, you’re the plant expert, what should we do?”
The women crowded around to stare at the plant Julia had left behind when she went to Switzerland, hoping to find a cure for her deadly disease. Myra looked stricken, as though she had somehow personally failed their missing sister.
Yoko picked up the plant, stuck her finger in the soil and then touched the leaves. “Some light, a little warmer area and it will be fine,” she said.
It was finally decided to place the little plant on a small folding table directly under the kitchen skylight. Everyone sighed with relief.
“Any news about Julia?” Nikki asked as she filched a strip of bacon that was to go into the arugula salad. Charles pretended to swat her with his wooden spoon.
“Julia is doing well,” Charles said. “She’s gained eight pounds in the last four months. She’s tolerating her meds and she misses us all terribly. She’s coming home for Thanksgiving, and again for Christmas, but then will go back for another six months. What that means is that she’s holding her own and she has not regressed or gotten worse. She’s happy. She reads, takes walks, rides her bicycle. Her stamina is better than it’s ever been. I spoke to her yesterday. She misses you all and she sends her love. She wants you to give Murphy a big hug for her. The first thing she asked about was the plant. To say she was overjoyed at the two new leaves would be putting it mildly.” This last comment was addressed to Kathryn, who was busily wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Everything smells wonderful,” Nikki said as she carried candles and napkins into the dining room. “Anything new these past few weeks?” she asked Myra.
“Nothing, dear. Charles and I have just been rattling around out here all by ourselves. No one has called or stopped by. Is there any news on Jack?”
“No. That’s why I thought . . . I assumed he would.... Damn, I don’t know what I thought or assumed. I check his and Mark’s new website daily. I have no clue what the two of them are doing. That could be good or it could be bad.”
“I can’t believe Jack gave up his job as assistant district attorney, and I can’t believe his friend would give up his job as a federal agent just like that,” Isabelle said.
“Well, he did.” Nikki clicked a lighter to light the scented candles. Within seconds the room smelled like blueberries.
“Are we celebrating something special tonight?” Yoko asked.
“Yes. The good news on Julia, your arrival and anything else we want to celebrate,” Myra said. “Goodness, how I’ve missed you all. But before I forget, Charles and I want to invite you all for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s. Please say you will come.”
“You bet,” Kathryn said.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alexis said.
“I will be glad to attend,” Yoko said. “My husband will spend the day sleeping so he will not miss me.”
Isabelle and Nikki smiled and nodded.
“We go out to the woods and chop the tree down,” Myra said. “If it snows, we pull the tree on a sled, but if there’s no snow we pull it on a wagon. We cut all the evergreens the same day so they’ll be fresh. We haven’t really celebrated Christmas here at Pinewood for some years now. I think it’s time to get back to
our traditions.”
“Christmas here at Pinewood is a marvel. The house smells heavenly with all the balsam,” Nikki said. “The vaulted ceiling allows us to have a twenty-foot tree and balsam twined around the bannister going all the way to the second floor. Lots of red velvet bows and our own mistletoe. Myra always made it like a fairyland for Barbara and me. One year, Lu Chow, Myra’s gardener, played Santa. She thought we wouldn’t notice a Chinese Santa. We pretended not to for her sake.”
“You knew? You little rascal!” Myra said. Nikki laughed.
They could have been simply a group of young people getting together to play catch-up, or possibly a group of old friends enjoying dinner together.
“I had a date!” Kathryn blurted out, her face rosy pink. She looked around the table at the stunned looks.
“Tell me you didn’t wear that flannel shirt and those Frye boots,” Alexis said.
“No, I didn’t wear them. I got dressed up. Pantyhose, makeup, the whole magilla.”
“And?” the others chorused as one.
“And nothing. Murphy didn’t like him. By the end of the evening he was all over me. I had to deck him, at which point he got a little pissy with me. He was so good-looking he made my eyes water. But I won’t be seeing him again. Now, don’t ask me any questions because I told you the whole thing.”
“I had a date, too,” Alexis said. “One of the women I shop for fixed me up with her next-door neighbor. Nice guy. He manages La Belle, that new restaurant in D.C. The food was excellent. He asked me out again. I said yes.” Everyone clapped their approval.
“I bought a plasma TV,” Nikki said.
“I had to get a new transmission for my car,” Isabelle said.
“Well, nothing is new in my life,” Yoko said. “I ordered two thousand poinsettias for the holidays. With Lu Chow helping us I will be able to get away for your mission, Myra. I owe you many thanks for allowing him to work at odd times for us. My husband likes him very much.”
Charming Lily Page 31