“Don’t say it, Metaxas. I believe him. I’ve been feeling so good lately. Tired but good. I sleep, I eat like a horse, and I just feel damn good.” To prove her point, Ruby removed her denim shirt. Metaxas wanted to bawl when he looked at her naked chest, at the scars and the burns from the radiation and chemotherapy she’d had to undergo for her double mastectomy. “I never wanted you to see how ugly I was, that’s why I always wore a tee shirt under my clothes. Now it doesn’t matter to me. As long as I can live and as long as I know you can accept me and the way I look, I’ll walk outside naked for the world to see. Metaxas, I’m okay. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“Oh, God, Ruby,” Metaxas said, gathering her into his arms. “That never mattered to me for one minute. It didn’t matter to me when you lost all your hair either. You know that. I didn’t fall in love with your hair or your breasts. I fell in love with you. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming this?”
“I was not dreaming. This is not wishful thinking on my part. Honey, Ash was never here in this house. He told me to give the medallion to Nealy tomorrow for the race, but to take it back right away. I never asked you for anything, but the minute she gives it back to me I need someone to drill a hole in it, and then I want a heavy gold chain with a super-duper latch so I don’t ever lose it. Can you do that for me? I know it isn’t a challenge like planting a mountain or building an island. I really gotta hurry now, honey. You can do that for me, can’t you? I look like a boy now, don’t I?” Ruby said sadly as she peered at her flat chest in the bathroom mirror. She perked up immediately at the concern on her husband’s face. “No more push-up bras for me.”
Metaxas sat down on the edge of the bathtub and howled with laughter.
Fifteen minutes later, Ruby was dressed and ready to go, the medallion clutched in her hand. “Ash never said what would happen if I lost this,” she said.
“You aren’t going to lose it, sweet baby. I guarantee it. C’mere, give me a big kiss, and I’ll see you in New York.”
“Honey, Ash said there’s going to be a big powwow in Texas tomorrow. He was upset with me because I wasn’t on top of it. Do you know what’s going on?”
“I think so. I’ll know more tomorrow. I can’t believe you’re sleeping in a barn, honey.”
“I love it. The rich smell of horse poop, there’s nothing like it anywhere. It gets in your blood. Nealy said it would happen, and it did.”
“Do you want me to buy you a horse farm, sweet baby?”
“No! All I want is to be able to come here and be welcome. Nealy said we could stay forever. She meant it, too. She loves me, Metaxas, she really does. I love mucking the stalls, I love doing all that stuff. Those damn chickens made all this possible for me. Horse dung is a lot different from chicken poop. See ya, honey.”
Every emotion in the world crossed Metaxas Parish’s face as he watched his wife run down the path to the barn. “If this is some kind of cruel joke, Ash Thornton, I’ll find a way to get up there to wherever the hell you are and kick your ass all the way to hell. I never make threats I don’t intend to keep, so keep that in mind,” Metaxas said fiercely.
“Oh yeah. Well, hear this, big guy. I never make promises I can’t keep either, so you keep that in your mind. Chew on that one, Metaxas Parish.”
“Son of a bitch! You are real! What I mean is, you really do talk to her.”
“Only when she needs me. That was a real nice thing you did there in the bathroom. You’re okay in my book. Now get off your ass and figure out what’s going on in Texas before the dark stuff hits the fan.”
“I’m on it!”
“Good. See ya at Belmont.”
“Yeah, right. Hey, wait a minute . . .”
“You people down there think I have all the time in the world. I have things to do and places to go. I’m busy. What?”
“Thanks. I know it’s just a word, but it’s the best I can come up with.”
“It’ll do. I still owe you for replanting the mountain. When you have time, go fishing with Jake.”
“You got it!”
At the airport, Metaxas headed for the first phone booth that came into his line of vision. He hoped he was on time. His shoulders squared off the moment he heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Metaxas Parish here. I have something to tell you, and I want you to listen very carefully. When I’m finished, I want you to do exactly as I say. I know it’s going to cut into your travel time, but it has to be done immediately. Check everything twice, be sure there are no mistakes. You have to trust me on this and not ask questions. I want you to bring everything with you to New York. You know what they say, the first one out of the gate wins the prize. This is what you do . . .”
Riley Coleman stopped his car, the way he did each and every day, before he drove under the high wooden arch emblazoned with the name SUNBRIDGE. His practiced eye took in the miles of white rail fence stretching into the distance. Tall oak trees lined the winding drive, and on either side were expanses of dead brown grass. The whirl and swish of the pulsating sprinklers was silent these days because of the drought.
He eased his foot down on the gas pedal, the Bronco moving slowly down the driveway, Riley savoring the moment when Sunbridge came into view.
The great house, caressed by the sun, basked upon a gently sloping rise beneath the Texas sky. It was three stories of the palest pink brick and was flanked by twin wings, which were also three stories high, but set back several feet from the main structure. White columns supported the roof of the veranda, which swept along the entire front. There was a fanlight transom over the two huge oak front doors. The same design was repeated over each window on the top floor. Ornamental topiaries and crepe myrtle hugged the foundation, and a magnificent rose garden surrounded the house, complete with trellises and statuary.
It was a hell of a spread, Riley liked to say, and all of it his and Ivy’s. One day it would belong to his son, Moss. Thousands of acres of prime land, where Thoroughbreds and cattle grazed contentedly. For now.
Once the land had been owned by Riley’s great-grandfather, Seth Coleman. It was said that when he first saw it, he felt as though he could reach up and touch the sun. He had come from dark beginnings, and this great house upon the rise would bridge his past with his future. The name Sunbridge was entirely his own conception. Seth Coleman, according to all who knew him, was a ring-tailed son of a bitch who stomped on people, was cruel and vindictive, with a black heart. It was well known in Texas circles that he was greedy and power-hungry and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
Riley brought the Bronco to a stop outside the front doors. He liked walking past the ethereally graceful rose garden and the feminine sweep of the clematis vine that surrounded the oak doors. He remembered how the house had looked before the tornado swept it all away. There had been shiny, dark wooden floors, massive beams supporting the ceilings, thick, dark Oriental carpets, and man-sized leather furniture. Each time he entered the old house, he imagined the smell of his great-grandfather’s cigar smoke, the thudding of high-heeled cowboy boots, and the sound of boisterous men drinking hard whiskey. Now Sunbridge was full of sunlight, earth-tone furniture, white walls, and light oak floors. The smells were those of his wife and son. The sounds were popular rock, Ivy’s and his son’s laughter. The floor-to-ceiling walls were gone, replaced with half walls, so that the entire first floor was open and inviting.
He almost had it all, he thought as he opened the massive oaken doors. As always, he stood stock-still and pitched his baseball cap toward his peg on the hat rack, the only thing to survive the tornado that had destroyed the house.
Normally he viewed his entrance into the house as a homecoming. A happy event. Today it wasn’t so. He listened to the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. That had to mean the others were here. Sawyer, Maggie, and Cole, Cary and Thad. Counting himself, there were just four members left of the family, if you didn’t count the wandering gypsy Susan and her children. While Cary and Thad were
family, they weren’t blood. Cole had called this family meeting. More than likely it was a crisis. These past years they only seemed to get together as a family when a crisis of some sort threatened either the family or one of them as an individual.
He dreaded walking into the kitchen, dreaded listening to whatever the problem was going to be. Hell, he had enough problems of his own—the severe drought, the oil wells that weren’t producing, and some kind of sticky problem with the newest branch of the family.
There were hugs and kisses, handshakes and manly slaps on the back the moment Riley entered the kitchen. Someone handed him a bottle of beer. He looked around. It must be a major crisis, he thought. Everyone looks worried.
He waited. When the silence continued, he gritted his teeth. “Let’s hear the short version,” he snapped.
“I can give it to you in four words, the Japanese stock market,” Cole said. Riley cringed. He was painfully aware of the deep decline of the Japanese stock market.
“Coleman Aviation sucks,” Sawyer said sourly. “We’re so deep in the red I doubt we can climb out. I hate to remind you all, but the Thorntons take fifty-one percent of everything. I’m getting a little sick of busting my ass for that branch of the family.”
“I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. The Thorntons bailed out Mam when she needed it, so hush, Sawyer,” Maggie said. “Family is family. You know Mam’s feeling on that.”
“Mam isn’t here now,” Sawyer said coldly. “Riley, what do you have to say?”
“This is the worst drought ever to hit the state of Texas. My two water wells are almost dry. We’re buying water for the cattle, and the price is prohibitive. We haven’t had a gusher in four years. We’re hemorrhaging money.”
Cary Asante looked around the table. “What’s mine is yours.”
“I feel the same way,” Thad said.
“I don’t know what your assets are, but I suspect they won’t come close to the kind of money this family needs. The offer is appreciated, though,” Cole said tightly.
“What are our options?” Maggie asked. “Whatever I have independently is all yours if needed. Billie Limited is in the black. We can mortgage it or sell.”
“I already exercised my one option. I’m mortgaged to the rafters. My plan was to call Cole for a temporary loan. I guess that’s out of the question. I have six months before my notes are called at the bank. The day after, the whole kit and caboodle goes to the highest bidder. I haven’t said anything to Ivy, so let’s keep this between us.”
“Where does that leave us?” Maggie asked.
Cole looked across the table at his mother. “At the edge of a very big, very dark black hole.”
“The stock market will go back up. It always does. The drought can’t last forever. I’ll go to the Thorntons and beg if I have to. They’ve helped us in the past. I’m sure they’ll help us again,” Maggie said.
“Mother, that was in the old days, when a handshake worked like magic. It doesn’t work that way anymore. We’re talking interest in double digits. They’re saying the drought could last another year. If Riley doesn’t strike oil or if we don’t get orders for planes in the next few months, we might as well pack it in,” Cole said. His fingers worked and twisted his tie. In his frustration he yanked it so hard his entire face and neck turned brick red. “How the fuck did this happen?” he said in a strangled voice. “Usually one or the other of us has some ups and downs, but we never have them all at the same time.”
“Everyone just calm down,” Maggie said. “We can talk this out and come up with a solution if we all work on it.”
Riley dropped his head into his hands. “I wish Grandma Billie were here. She always knew what to do.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Riley? I’m doing the best I can to understand what happened. No, I’m not Mam. You all told me you were capable of running things. I took you at your word. Now this. I offered to sell Billie Limited. That will fetch us some high millions. It’s been operating in the black for years. Just in case no one has noticed, let me point something out to all of you. Anything we Coleman or Thornton women work at works. One hundred percent. Look at Nealy Coleman, for God’s sake. Mam did it. Fanny Thornton pulled it all together, and before her, Sallie Coleman Thornton did the same thing. This is no time to start blaming anyone for anything. We’re a family, and we’ll pull together. We made it work before, and we’ll make it work this time, too.”
“Aunt Maggie, I didn’t mean . . .”
“Yes, Riley, you did mean it. You were comparing me to Mam, and I came up short in your eyes. If anyone else feels the same way, say so now.”
“What time is it?” Riley asked suddenly.
“Almost four-thirty. Why?”
“Let’s go into the den. I want you all to see something. Josh Coleman’s horse, Sharpshooter, is running in the Belmont. If he bags it, SunStar Farms has itself a Triple Crown winner. This,” Riley said, pulling a legal-looking brown envelope out of a kitchen desk drawer, “will explain it all. First, we’re going to watch the race.”
Cole Tanner smacked both his hands, palms down on the kitchen table. “We’re teetering on the edge of a black hole where we could all literally lose our shirts, and you want to watch a horse race on television. I-don’t-think-so.”
“You always were a goddamn hothead, Cole. Would it make a difference if I told you SunStar Farms and that possible Triple Crown winner now belong to Seth Coleman’s, our great-grandfather’s, estate? It’s amazing when you sit down and actually think about what a horse like that is worth in stud fees. If he wins, we’re talking hundreds of millions of dollars. Multiply that by Great-Uncle Josh’s other colts sired by Dancer’s Flyby and what do you see? Do the math, cousin. The race is about to start any minute. Aunt Maggie, turn on ABC.”
“Hold on a minute, Riley. What are you talking about?” Cole demanded.
“Look, we all know what a bastard our great-grandfather was. Well, he had good company. His brother was just as big a bastard. They tried to skin each other. It looks like, according to the papers in this envelope, our great-granddaddy was the bigger bastard. It’s the answer to our present problem if we care to exercise our rights. There is a glitch, though. A serious one you and the others aren’t going to like. It’s one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t situations. I’m thinking the first one to lawyer up is the one who’s going to win. Just my opinion, cousin.”
Cole snorted. “Then that makes us just like our great-grandfather, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it does. You want to play with the big dogs, then you better be in the front of the pack.”
“Look!” Sawyer squealed. “Nealy Coleman is riding the horse. They just said they scratched the other jockey.”
Riley looked at his cousin Cole. He raised his eyebrows.
“Is this one of those things where we have to vote as a family?” Cole demanded.
“Depends,” Riley said, sitting down on the floor, his eyes glued to the wide screen just in time to hear the announcer say, “Cornelia Diamond will be riding Sharpshooter today in the Belmont. For those of you who don’t know, Sharpshooter’s sire was Dancer’s Flyby, a Triple Crown winner himself. Dancer’s Flyby is owned, trained, and was ridden to the Triple Crown by Cornelia Diamond. The buzz here today at the announcement is mind-boggling. There is all kinds of speculation going on here today as to the reason for this last-minute switch up. And now a word from one of our sponsors.”
“I can’t believe a woman can ride in a race like this,” Cary Asante muttered.
“Why not? Who says it has to be a male jockey? If she won a Triple Crown, and I don’t even know what that is, it has to mean she’s pretty damn good. She’s looking real good to me right now. Anyone care to make a little wager? What, no takers? Sawyer?” Maggie said.
The ever-outspoken Sawyer grimaced. “It’s a sucker bet. She’s gonna win. Just look at her. Confidence oozes out of her. I saw that when we met in Virginia. She’s
my kind of woman. I just love trailblazers.”
“I wish Billie were here to see this,” Thad murmured.
“She’s probably watching. Mam never missed a trick. She and Amelia are probably both up there chortling away,” Maggie murmured.
“How can she see this race if she donated her eyes to me when I was blinded in that explosion?” Cary said brokenly.
“Oh, Cary, don’t you see, she is seeing it, through you,” Maggie said, putting her arm around Cary’s shoulder.
“Billie was something, wasn’t she?” Cary said quietly.
“One of a kind,” Thad said.
22
Nealy looked around at the serious faces and smiled. “This horse is platinum. If anyone can run this race and win it, it’s Sharpshooter. I’m just along for the ride. We’re both going to give it our best shot. It’s time for you all to go to the clubhouse and watch this big guy take me into the winner’s circle. Go on now before he gets nervous. This is no place for him to pitch a fit.”
“Nealy, take this with you. Emmie said it went to heaven and back, so maybe it will bring you good luck. If it doesn’t go right, that’s okay, too. Rhy and I just wanted you to know that.”
“I couldn’t believe it when Emmie gave you back the penny,” Nealy said. “There are no words to tell you what that penny has meant to her all these years.”
“I think I know. I want it back, Nealy.”
Nealy nodded before she stuck the penny under her tongue. She remembered another time when she’d done the same thing in almost the same circumstances. That time the horse was hers. Would it make a difference today?
“You got room for one more, Nealy?” Ruby asked as she held out the gold medallion.
Nealy nodded and reached for the gold disc. Her eyes popped wide. “Is this . . . ?”
“Yes. Ash said to give it to you, but you have to give it back to me. Whatever you do, don’t swallow it!” Nealy’s head bobbed up and down as she slipped the gold disc inside her cheek.
“Good luck, Nealy,” Metaxas said.
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