The Rebel Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 2)

by Lauri Robinson

  “I’m not going down that road again,” he said, although he was grinning. “Bronco’s there to drive you home, right?”

  “Yes, he is. Goodbye, Forrest.”

  “Bye.” He hung up and stared at the phone.

  * * *

  Miles away from California, sitting at Forrest’s desk, Twyla stared at the phone she’d just hung up. Reaching over, she spun the little propeller on his model plane, as she had done several times during their conversation. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back to survey the room as the propeller made a clicking sound. Hearing Forrest’s voice made her miss him all the more and that certainly didn’t settle anything inside her.

  She was the only Nightingale sister he cared about. That was fine and dandy, but he was still keeping secrets from her. Sort of. It was Josie’s tale to tell, and she hadn’t told anyone, except perhaps their father. He’d arrived at the resort just as Twyla had been leaving.

  Was she making more out of this secret than need be? Yes. Because the real problem lay within her. She might love Forrest, he might even love her, but that didn’t solve anything. Could she live with the fear of him leaving all the time?

  No, and he would leave. Being an airmail pilot was still in his future. Where would that leave her? An old woman sitting alone. A poor lonely wife. She had money—plenty of it. But Forrest hadn’t wanted help from her family in solving the mystery behind his father’s parole, so he’d never accept money. Not even from her. Airmail pilots couldn’t make the kind of money she could bring in running the resort.

  Giving the plane propeller one last flick, she said, “Love or money, Twyla, which will it be?”

  There was no one to answer that, so she stood and walked around the desk to go find Bronco. He said he’d be at the bar, talking to his uncle. At the door, taking one last look around, Twyla’s gaze landed on the pictures on the wall, namely the one of Babe Ruth.

  For a man with no money, Forrest had some influential friends.

  Twyla clicked off the light and went to find Bronco. It wasn’t until hours later, while lying in her bed, staring at the shadows of the trees cast by the moon dancing around like dark fairies on her ceiling, that the picture entered her mind again.

  Babe Ruth.

  As the idea formed she grew giddy. Forrest wanted to become an airmail pilot to make money—money the Plantation wasn’t making right now. If the Plantation all of a sudden became successful, there would be no need for him to leave. He could fly his plane anytime he wanted. With her as a passenger.

  Her idea grew until she laughed out loud, convinced it would work.

  From then on, time barely ticked by. She looked at the clock so many times she had to check to make sure it was working properly. When dawn peeked in through her window, she leaped out of bed, threw on a comfortable yellow dress and matching shoes, combed her hair and headed for the office. She made notes of everything, and then lists of people to call—once it was of an appropriate time—and then, unable to keep it to herself any longer, she ran upstairs.

  She reached Josie’s room first, throwing open the door. “Did you talk to Father?”

  Rolling over and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Josie answered, “Yes.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “For now.”

  “Good. I need you downstairs in the office in ten minutes.” Closing the door, she ran to Norma Rose’s room and shoved that door open. “Good, you’re here.”

  Standing before her closet, Norma Rose frowned. “Where else would I be?”

  Ty’s cabin, that was where. Twyla didn’t say that, but then, determining it might give her a bit of playing power, she pointed out, “There’s wet grass on your feet.”

  Norma Rose’s cheeks flushed and Twyla chuckled. “Wear red again. You look good in it, and meet me and Josie in the office in ten minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I say so,” Twyla answered, shutting the door. She went back downstairs and into the kitchen, knowing full well it would take at least twenty minutes before either sister arrived. She ate a cinnamon roll straight from the oven, along with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and chatted with the cooks about a Fourth of July barbecue. Though people had been cooking outside for years, calling it a barbecue was a fairly new idea, and not something upscale resorts did. She was going to change that.

  Twyla was sitting at the office desk when her sisters arrived. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Take a seat.”

  Norma Rose and Josie glanced at each other. Twyla grinned and handed each of them a sheet of paper.

  “What’s this?” Norma Rose queried.

  “Your job duties.”

  “My what?”

  “Your job duties for the Fourth of July celebration,” Twyla explained.

  “We already planned this,” Norma Rose said.

  “We planned what we are doing here,” Twyla pointed out. “At the resort. This will explain what we are doing in town.”

  “In town?” Josie asked.

  “Yes, we are going to have an entire community celebration.” Waggling a finger at their papers, she said, “Read those. You’ll see we are going to need a parade, a sailboat race, games for kids at the city park, a scavenger hunt—I really like that idea—and airplane rides. That will all happen throughout the day, and that night, people will come to the resort for a barbecue, dance-off and fireworks.”

  “We can’t do all this,” Norma Rose said.

  “Yes, we can,” Twyla insisted. “There are three of us.” She turned to Josie. “Your Ladies Aid Society can help. They can take care of the parade, the games for the kids and the scavenger hunt.”

  Josie opened her mouth, but Twyla said, “They owe you after your little incident.”

  Josie merely looked down at her paper.

  “Airplane rides?” Norma Rose asked. “Does Forrest know about this?”

  “No, but he will,” Twyla said. “I’ll tell him when I tell him about Babe Ruth.”

  “Babe Ruth? The baseball player?” Norma Rose asked. “What about him?”

  “He’ll be here, too,” Twyla said. “That’s why we need a parade.”

  “Does Babe Ruth know that?” Josie asked.

  “He will,” Twyla said. “As soon as I call him.”

  Norma Rose dropped her paper on the desk. “Stop right there. You can’t just call Babe Ruth and tell him to be in White Bear Lake, Minnesota on the Fourth of July. That’s not even two weeks away.”

  Twyla tossed one of the daily newspapers the resort received across the desk. Seeing that article this morning had confirmed that everything was going to work. “He’s already going to be in Minnesota. On the third. I’ll just ask him to stay one more day.”

  “Why?” Norma Rose then asked. “Why would we want to do all of this?”

  Twyla bit her bottom lip while determining just how much to say. “Because the Plantation needs to start earning money again, and Forrest is in California with his mother. I want to do this for him. You’re my sisters, and I need your help to make it happen.”

  She knew her eyes were full of pleading, and for the first time in years it was genuine.

  “I’m in,” Josie said. “I’ll call a special meeting for the society today.”

  “Thank you,” Twyla said before she turned to Norma Rose.

  “Of course I’m in,” Norma Rose said. “I’m the one who said Nightingale’s and the Plantation should partner up.”

  “Yes, you did,” Twyla said. “And thank you for the idea.”

  “Now you just have to get Forrest to agree,” Josie said.

  Twyla nodded even as a lump formed in her stomach.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It had become one of the longest weeks of his life, and seeing
the hangar below lifted Forrest’s spirits considerably. Alone, he’d have been home yesterday, but with his mother as passenger, he’d put the plane down overnight. A good thing, too. Flying over the mountains in Montana had left her rather queasy.

  The landing was smooth. Taxiing along the runway, he waved at Jacob standing next to his trusty old Model T, ready to take them to the Plantation.

  This hadn’t been his home for years, but lately, for the first time in Forrest’s life, it had started to feel like home.

  With Jacob’s help, his postflight chores took half the time. Before he knew it, Forrest was in the backseat of Jacob’s Model T as the man drove toward town. His mother was full of questions, and Jacob was busy answering them, which gave Forrest time to watch the scenery—especially the road to Nightingale’s—as they rolled along.

  At the Plantation, the rumble of bowling balls and laughter echoed through the air as he carried his mother’s luggage up the stairway. He glanced over his shoulder at Jacob, who was carrying two more suitcases—his plane had never been packed so full.

  Jacob grinned. “Busy place today.”

  “I’d say so,” his mother replied, carrying two small bags. “I can’t wait for a tour.”

  “I’ll give you one as soon as we put your luggage in the apartment,” Forrest said, opening the door. He stopped in his tracks. And only moved inside when Jacob gave him a little shove.

  The cupboard doors had all been rehung and painted. The walls had been painted, too, and the rug looked almost new. He turned to Jacob.

  “I’ll give your mother a tour of the place,” Jacob said. “You’re needed in the office.”

  Forrest didn’t ask why. He might not want to know.

  The door had been closed when he’d walked past, but that wasn’t unusual when no one was in it. At least no one should be in it. By the time he’d run down the stairs, he had a feeling he knew who was behind the door.

  He thrust it open and let loose the smile that instantly tugged at his lips.

  “Hello,” Twyla said, leaning against the corner of his desk.

  She had to have more dresses than a midnight sky had stars. Today her outfit was green and sparkly and fit her as snugly as his flying helmet. She was also the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

  “I saw you drive in,” she said.

  He closed the door. “You did?”

  She nodded. “I thought it might take you a little longer to get your mother settled.”

  “She wants a tour.”

  “Oh, well, go ahead, I can wait.”

  He started walking forward, slowly, which was torturous. Every part of him wanted to fly across the room, grab her, kiss her, tell her how much he’d missed her. “You can?”

  “Yes.”

  “Liar.”

  “What?”

  He arrived in front of her. “You’re lying. You can’t wait. No more than I can.”

  A frown tugged at her expression. “What can’t you wait for?”

  Forrest grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close. “This.” He kissed her like a man would eat his last meal. Savoring every tiny morsel. His hands couldn’t get enough of her. Her back, her sides, her cheeks, her hair.

  When his hands cupped the sides of her hips and he felt the way her legs trembled, he picked her up. Setting her on his desk, he stepped between her legs, all the while never releasing her lips.

  Her heels hooked him behind the knees, bringing them flush together, and a blazing inferno let loose inside him. The kiss could have lasted one, ten, or even thirty minutes—he lost track of time. All he knew for certain was that he wanted Twyla more than he wanted to fly.

  Their kissing slowed, but the mood was just as heartfelt and intense, even when they parted by some sort of mutual agreement. Her blue eyes were twinkling and her soft palms rubbed his cheeks.

  “I take it you’re happy to see me?”

  “No, not really,” he teased.

  She laughed and kissed his chin. “Liar.”

  “We’re even,” he said.

  “Yes, we are,” she said. “You were right. I couldn’t wait.”

  He kept her sitting where she was, with him between her knees, massaging her hips with his thumbs. “Are you the one who fixed up the apartment?”

  “I wanted your mother to have a nice homecoming.”

  “What about me?”

  “Oh, darn it,” she said, playfully slapping his shoulder.

  “What? Don’t I deserve a nice homecoming?”

  “Yes, but you made me forget something.”

  “What?”

  She reached behind her and then tugged a slip of paper between them. Holding it beneath her chin, she grinned. “Interested?”

  Written with red lipstick, the words on the paper said, Kisses, Flyboys Free.

  “I might be.”

  It took some serious willpower not to lock the door and have his way with her on the lime-green sofa. It was several kisses later before Forrest released Twyla completely and walked around to sit behind the desk. A bit of separation was what he needed to cool down.

  “The apartment looks great. Who do I owe?”

  She’d spun around to sit sideways on his desk and swung her feet back and forth. “You don’t owe anyone. I found the paint in the basement, left over from remodeling the bowling lanes, and the hinges were all there for the cupboards. They just needed to be straightened, and the carpet just needed a good cleaning.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Someone had nailed it to the floor, of all things. The hardest part was taking off the wallpaper.”

  “You did all that?”

  She laughed. “Don’t be silly. But I did oversee your employees and made sure they did it right.”

  “My employees?”

  “Yes, you have maintenance workers, cleaners. The apartment is part of the Plantation.” Resting one palm on his desk she leaned toward him. “Trust me, Forrest, your employees are not overworked. Other than the pin boys, of course—they run their tails off. Did you notice the ladies bowling?”

  “I didn’t pay much attention.”

  “They’re the women from Josie’s Ladies Aid Society,” she said.

  “They are?”

  She nodded, but it was the way she nibbled on her bottom lip that snagged his full attention.

  He laid a hand on top of hers. “What is it?”

  “Nothing bad,” she said.

  “Then tell me. You’ve never been afraid of telling me anything.”

  “I know, and this is good, I—I just—”

  “Tell me, Twyla.”

  “I set up a partnership between the resort and the Plantation,” she said.

  His skin tingled eerily. “What kind of partnership?”

  “For the Fourth of July. It’ll be beneficial to both of us, or both businesses. The whole town, really.”

  Nodding his head as she nodded hers, he asked, “What’s the partnership?”

  She jumped off the desk and crossed the room to where the pictures hung on the wall. “The day starts out with you flying Babe Ruth in from New Ulm. He was already going to be there on the third for a charity baseball game, all I had to do was ask him to come here on the fourth. He remembered you and said he’d do it if you flew him up here in the morning and back to New Ulm the next morning.” Scrunching her nose, she added, “I said you would.”

  That didn’t sound bad. Unable to resist taking advantage of the opportunity, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, as if thinking for a few moments. “All right, then what?”

  She sighed, before her excitement started up again. “Then the entire town is having a parade, a huge one with Babe Ruth in your roadster—Josie’s Ladies Aid Society is taking care of that—and games for the kids
in the park across the street. Jacob has set up a sailing contest, and people can bowl, and play pool, and eat, and go to the amusement park, and then that evening, everyone can come out to the resort. We’re having a barbecue and a dance-off on an outside dance floor with Chinese lanterns and fireworks.” She took a deep breath and asked, “What do you think?”

  Before he could answer, she said, “Oh, there’s one more thing. I’ve already put ads in the Minneapolis and St. Paul newspapers. The resort is already full, so are most of the other resorts and hotels around town, so I have your employees working on a few rooms upstairs, so you can have overnight guests here, too.” Scrunching up her shoulders, she held up one hand, with her index finger and thumb an inch apart. “There’s just one other little thing. I don’t have anyone giving airplane rides yet. And I’ve advertised them. It won’t be all day, just short rides in the afternoon. People have to buy tickets for everything, so there’s lots of money to be made.”

  Her last statement struck a chord.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think it sounds like something the entire town can benefit from, but I want to know one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Eyeing her, he asked, “Why?”

  She opened her mouth, but then clamped it shut and closed her eyes. As much as he wanted to cross the room to her, he wanted to know her answer more.

  “Why are you doing all that? For the town? For the resort? For the Plantation?”

  She nodded. “Yes, to all of them.”

  “Why?”

  * * *

  Twyla wished an answer would form, one other than the one in her head. But it was to no avail. Perhaps that was for the best. The truth was always best.

  “Because I love you, Forrest. Years ago you couldn’t love me because I was poor and you were rich, and now you can’t love me because I’m rich and you’re poor. I want you to be successful again. The Plantation to be successful again.”

  “You want to make me rich again so I can love you?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Or so you can love me?”

  Why did the way he said it sound so awful? Her mouth went dry, and she couldn’t spit out either a yes or a no.