California Girl

by Rice, Patricia

  By the time they reached Claremore, it was obvious they wouldn’t be able to see Mame or the Range Rover unless it was directly in front of them. There were far too many cars. Since Mame had a solid head start, Alys didn’t count on them catching up with her anytime soon.

  Elliot turned the radio back to the news at the first road sign for the interstate into Tulsa.

  “The interstate is a toll road,” she informed him with a touch of frost. “Route 66 takes us directly to I-44. It’s even a four-lane.”

  “How far is the hotel?” was all he asked.

  “Other side of Tulsa. The place Mame stayed in for her wedding night isn’t there anymore so we chose a Doubletree nearby.”

  “Swimming pools and screaming kids.” He grimaced. “If you’re really Mame’s friend, you’ll convince her to come back with me to get some rest and have those tests run.”

  “And would you let her continue to Albuquerque if she’s fine?” So far, Oklahoma didn’t look much different from Kansas. Or Springfield, she decided, watching still another McDonald’s pass by as Route 66 entered the interstate.

  “Once we have her medication adjusted, I’ll put her on a plane and send her straight out there,” he promised. “Driving is too stressful at her age.”

  Alys rolled her eyes. “You are so clueless.” She shifted lanes and pointed out a sign ahead. “Seventh Street is where the hotel is. We’re not far from the Museum of Western Art that Mame wanted to visit. She was eager to see how much Tulsa had changed, so I don’t know what she would do first.”

  Mame had old friends here she wanted to look up as well, but Alys decided to keep that bit of information to herself. It wasn’t as if she knew who the friends were, much less how to reach them.

  Elliot tensed as they exited the interstate merging into downtown traffic and found the hotel—a skyscraper towering over the Convention Center, a far cry from the old motels of the sixties. “Drive through the garage,” he ordered. “Let’s see if the Rover is there. I’m hoping she found a driver and isn’t out there on city streets in rush hour.”

  “Mame has stayed alive for sixty years without your help. I imagine she knows what she’s doing. I’m not entirely certain you do.”

  She shouldn’t be insulting the man with the credit card. Mame had paid the travel agent in advance, but she had reserved only one room a night. Alys was supposed to drive to earn her half of the hotel cost. Before Fred died, the banks had cancelled her credit cards after she’d exceeded her limit and fell behind on payments. How did she explain that? She didn’t think he’d given an instant’s consideration to the possibility that he wouldn’t find Mame and head home today.

  “Pull out on that side street,” he commanded after they’d gone up and down the hotel parking garage ramps and back to the exit without seeing a single black Range Rover.

  She stared at him incredulously. “Why? You want to pay for parking just for driving up and down ramps? Shouldn’t we at least go into the hotel and ask?”

  “We have to hide Beulah. If we’re here before Mame, she’ll probably run off if she sees the car and knows we’re waiting.”

  “You think she doesn’t know you’d follow her?”

  She parked in a church parking lot several blocks away. Elliot jumped out, obviously in too much of a hurry to answer.

  Enjoying the lovely autumn day, studying the city around her, Alys followed at a more leisurely pace. To her secret delight, Doc Nice slowed down so she could keep up. “Did you have other business you should be seeing to besides Mame?” she inquired.

  “I was on a book-signing tour which I canceled the minute I heard Mame was in the hospital. Mame knew I would.”

  Back in sync with him again, she took his arm. “She adores you, you know. She tries not to brag, but she talks about you all the time.”

  “Then why the hell is she putting me through this?” he demanded with confusion, his long legs carrying him faster.

  “I’m not Mame, so I can’t speak for her, but is there ever a time when she isn’t thinking of what’s best for you?” She tugged his arm, slowing him down.

  “I don’t see how this can be good for either of us.” Reverting to anger, he shoved open the door of the hotel lobby when they reached it.

  Alys couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed in a hotel. Surely she and Fred had taken a vacation at some time. It had just been so long ago, the memory was buried under too much debris, and she couldn’t recall it.

  She didn’t have time to admire the huge vase of incredible flowers in the center of the enormous lobby. Elliot strode directly to the desk to ask if Mame had checked in yet.

  The desk clerk checked his computer. “Are you Mr. Seagraves?” he asked.

  Alys stepped up. “I am Alys Seagraves. We reserved the room.”

  “Ah, yes, here we are.” He reached in a drawer and removed a plastic key card. “Mrs. Emerson has already signed for the room. It’s on the top floor with a view of the skyline.”

  Could finding Mame really be that easy? Exchanging a glance with Elliot, who looked both elated and skeptical, Alys accepted the key and followed the clerk’s direction to the elevator.

  “I smell something fishy,” she said as they entered.

  “Probably the swimming pool,” he muttered, tensely shoving his hands in his pockets.

  She tried to stay nonchalant, but her heart kicked up another notch with each floor the elevator climbed.

  Elliot jiggled the coins in his pocket. “Mame’s probably exhausted and napping. I hate to wake her,” he said as the elevator stopped at their floor.

  Alys cast him a look of incredulity. “When was the last time you saw Mame nap?”

  He had the grace not to argue. Snatching the card key from her hand, he strode to the right as if he knew precisely where he was going. It took Alys a moment longer to figure out the directional signs and linger over the spectacular view from the window.

  Oklahoma was flat. Well, so was a lot of Missouri.

  She hurried to catch up as he opened the door. Admiring the size of the elegant suite they swept into, it took her a moment to notice Elliot’s silence. Not until he stalked across the room in obvious fury and whipped out his phone at the window did she realize he’d really expected to find Mame here.

  Surely he didn’t believe Mame would drop dead just because she’d eluded them? That sounded like Mame had all pistons churning to her.

  “Maybe she’s out touring the museum?” she asked as a peace offering after he checked his voice mail and apparently had none. “It’s right down the road.”

  Elliot shoved the phone back in his pocket and flung open the draperies, as if that might reveal Mame’s hiding place.

  Alys gave up attempting to interpret the wealth of emotions in her companion’s silence. Mame was alive and up to her usual tricks. Elation welled in her knowing Mame was fine—while she was standing in a lovely hotel suite with a king-sized bed and the very appealing Elliot Roth, even if he did appear on the verge of explosion. Relish the moment.

  Rocking back on her heels, Alys contemplated the meaning of Mame’s change in game plan. She and Mame had reserved rooms with two double beds, not suites with king beds.

  Obviously, Mame was using the situation to create mischief. That Mame felt healthy enough to indulge in her usual tricks reassured Alys no end.

  Buzzing with anticipation while waiting for Elliot to work this out, Alys stroked a tall plant on the suite’s coffee table. “I thought hotels left chocolates or cookies on pillows, not orchids.”

  Elliot was scanning a piece of hotel stationery he’d picked up off the desk. His explicit curse answered a lot. He popped another Tums and reread the missive.

  Refusing to be deterred, Alys held the plant pot and bounced on the end of the bed. How did one make an orchid bloom? And what color would this one be? “I don’t suppose you know if Mame wore an orchid at her wedding?”

  “There’s a picture in the photo album of her wearing
a huge one.” Elliot flung the stationery on the bed beside her. His expression was enigmatic. “I may have to wring her neck.”

  Dying of curiosity, Alys handed him the pot. “I don’t know if the bloom on this one will be huge or not. We ought to buy her a corsage when we find her.”

  “If we don’t find her, we can bring orchids to her funeral.” He slapped the pot back on the table while Alys picked up the letter.

  * * *

  Her chuckles as she read Mame’s insane note drove Elliot crazy. How did she turn off her anxiety and let go like that? He paced up and down the suite to keep from watching her expressive face too closely. He knew what it would take to make him forget Mame for a little while, and he didn’t like knowing that about himself.

  He’d stayed in fancier suites, with better views. He’d never stayed in one with a playful sprite who revved all his motors.

  If he wanted to continue following Mame, they’d have to spend the night here.

  He had his credit cards. He could get another room.

  He didn’t want to.

  Pacing and trying not to analyze that reaction, he watched Alys read the letter again and chuckle. He didn’t see what was so damned funny. Mame knew he was here. She had dodged him. On purpose.

  “She’s matchmaking!” Alys bounced back against the bland navy-and-beige cover and giggled.

  Elliot didn’t think grown women ought to giggle, but he was too aware of her slender figure splayed across the enormous bed to be reasonable. The image of what they could be doing together on that bed fried his brain. He was tired, worried, and ought to be picturing wringing Mame’s neck instead of wondering what Alys Seagraves wore—or didn’t wear—beneath her clingy knits.

  Her breasts bobbed freely enough to believe they were unfettered.

  “She says she’s staying with friends,” he pointed out with irritation. “She wants you to take care of the orchid and make it bloom. She has some idiot idea that you have a green thumb.” Remembering the heat-blasted shrubs of Alys’s brown front yard, he thought Mame had gone senile on him. Hell, one more thing to worry about.

  “Her note says you like green tea before bedtime!” Alys crowed with laughter, waving the paper as if it held the secrets to life. “Check the drawers to see if she left your favorite jammies.”

  Okay, that was pretty funny. Elliot bit back a reluctant grin. His aunt had her outrageous moments. He could appreciate that. “I quit wearing jammies after I outgrew the penguin ones.”

  Quaking with laughter, she grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it to stifle her roar. “Penguins!” The pillow muffled her shriek. She came up to ask, “Did you know that penguins have sex only once a year?” before burrowing into the pillow and roaring again.

  Obviously, his childhood reminiscences contrasted a little too vividly with his adult identity to send her over the top like that. Did she think he was the kind of guy who only had sex once a year? He didn’t know whether to laugh with her or strangle himself. Maybe he ought to see about getting another room. They still had time to check out that museum she’d mentioned.

  Maybe he’d rather check out the king-sized bed with her in it.

  King-sized bed.

  Elliot dropped his head in his hands. Alys’s laughter took on a whole new meaning. Mame had set up the suite for the two of them, complete with wedding corsage.

  He had a bad feeling this trip was going to be a lot longer than he’d anticipated.

  Chapter Seven

  “I won’t let her do this,” Elliot muttered, the perfect image of outraged male as he headed for the door. Add some bull horns to go with the tousled curls and Alys figured she could wave a red cape at him.

  “This room is already paid for,” Alys called after him. “And if Mame needs to reach us, this is the room she’ll call.” So, he was a little tense. Under the stress, he really was a nice man. She shouldn’t rattle his cage like that, but it was so much fun. She had felt helpless for so long that she simply couldn’t resist wielding this tiny bit of power by tweaking his chains.

  He halted abruptly, looking trapped, and she relented. “If I’ll ruin your reputation, get your own room, and I’ll let you know if she calls. But I have to tell you, I can’t afford a room of my own.”

  “Ruin my reputation?” At his look of incredulity, she laughed.

  “Well, you are Doc Nice. How am I supposed to know how your adoring public sees you? Or if you have a fiancée elsewhere who would be incensed at your sharing a room?” She gestured at the acres of bed. She’d been sleeping on a cot for years. First, to be close to Fred during his illness without disturbing him with her tossing and turning. And then, because she couldn’t bear sleeping in the double bed he’d died in. “It’s not as if there isn’t enough room.”

  She thought she’d wiped him speechless with her invitation. Elliot’s eyes widened with an interest that shot lightning bolts and sizzled through every fiber of her clothing. Uh-oh. She didn’t know whether to roll under the bed or flaunt whatever it was he wanted to see.

  “I think we better hit the Museum and look for Mame,” he finally replied with desert dryness.

  She might have felt insulted by his tone if he wasn’t having such a difficult time tearing his gaze from her.

  Almost relieved that they didn’t have to have a showdown just yet, she swung off the bed. “I need my suitcase with the toiletry bag.”

  Elliot shoved his hands into his pockets, and his mouth turned up in a mocking smile. Even with his curls rumpled and his wrinkled white shirt rolled up his arms, he could pass for Mr. GQ. She didn’t like the look of that smile, although she sure wouldn’t mind kissing it.

  “Give me the car keys, and I’ll bring the car back here. I’m not carrying your bags for two blocks.”

  Well, heck. Neither was she. Nice shower, fluffy hotel robe—or hot walk to car and carry bags so she could keep the keys?

  “Power requires sacrifices, doesn’t it?” she asked grumpily, handing over the keys.

  “You’re not afraid I’ll drive off and leave you here?” he asked, jingling the ring and not even trying to interpret her comment.

  The itinerary was in her purse. He wouldn’t be going anywhere without it. “Guess I could call and report the car stolen if you don’t return.”

  “I’ll be back.” The look in his dark eyes was all male as he glanced from her to the bed, then let himself out.

  Whoosh! Alys exhaled the breath she’d been holding. Doc Nice had some interesting facets hidden beneath that button-down appearance. Maybe she should turn up the air-conditioning because the temperature had gone from zero to blazing in ten seconds.

  Did she have any perfume left in her toiletry bag? If this was to be the first night of the rest of her life, she wanted to let out all the stops.

  * * *

  “You’ve shown your sister’s will to Lucia’s grandfather?” Mame swallowed her pill with a glass of water. She hated letting her body dictate what she could and could not do, but it was good they’d chopped this journey into small bits. If she wanted to look fresh and cheerful for dinner, she needed to rest. Her reunion with her old high school friend had been wonderful, but the hours of chatter had drained her. She hated to admit she was getting old.

  “Salvador will not talk to any of us. He is a bigot, that man. He calls us ‘peasants’ and ‘redskins.’ He called my sister . . .” Dulce stared at the ceiling and gulped back a tear. “He called my sister ugly names and said her family would not get one cent from him. We do not want his money. We want Lucia. She is only five and should be with family, not strangers.”

  The guest room they’d been given had two narrow beds covered in matching blue-and-brown checked covers. Mame reflected that her friend had obviously not changed her children’s décor since they’d left home. Of course, neither had she.

  “Your family should have hired a lawyer,” Mame said. “If your sister left a will appointing you as Lucia’s guardian, and her husband left no will, then
it seems to me the law is on your side.” She lay back against the pillows and practiced deep breathing.

  “We tried.” Dulce clenched her fists. “Money talks and we have no money. His lawyer went to court to say our will is forged and that we must have torn up his son’s will. Our lawyer said the court might place Lucia in a foster home until the dispute is satisfied. She is already traumatized from losing her parents. She used to chatter like a little parrot. Now, she sits there like a lost mouse. It is this…this…” In frustration, she shook her fist at the window.

  “She’s lost both her parents. Violently. It will take her time.” Mame tried to sound soothing, but Dulce’s unspoken rage and grief filled the room. She remembered her own despair when she’d lost her brother and her best friend in a single night. If it hadn’t been for the children . . .

  She understood Dulce needed her niece as much as Lucia needed her. God had chosen Mame to help them through this, because she understood the anguish and frustration of loss. “Once we take Lucia home where she belongs, away from the school and a man who despises her, she will recover.”

  Dulce hung her head in acceptance. Wishing she were stronger, Mame closed her eyes again and sought sleep. She wouldn’t let Elliot and the hospital be right. She would heal herself.

  “Why did you leave the orchid?” Dulce asked quietly. “It has no flower.”

  “It has the promise of flowers.” Mame smiled and relaxed, knowing she was right in this. “Someday, Alys will bloom like that flower.”

  “You are loco, Mame.”

  “That’s what Jock always told me.” Being crazy had its good sides as well as its bad. Remembering Jock, the sensible one of their inseparable trio of high school comrades, Mame drifted into dreams. He’d told her she’d never make a career of go-go dancing.

  He’d been right, but she’d had fun trying.

  * * *

  “Remington was a realist. He sculpted what he saw.” Elliot held the hotel room door for her after returning from their walk through the museum. The western art had refueled Alys’s excitement for the days ahead. She wanted to see Indians and deserts and cactus.