Soon they were on the move again. Sonja could hardly believe their luck as they followed Francis up a long hallway. She felt good. She felt as though they were getting somewhere.
“Next time, you probably should call ahead and make an appointment,” Francis said.
“We’ll definitely do things right in the future,” Jay said. “And I want to thank your guards for keeping us from getting trampled.”
Francis turned back to look at them. Her eyebrows were raised in a scolding manner. “It was a very dangerous situation you put everyone in.”
“I know,” Jay said.
“This is not Hollywood. Actors of your caliber don’t show up here every day.”
Jay nodded graciously. “You’re right, and again I apologize.”
They stopped in front of a door, and Francis slid a key out of her pocket. “Your apology is accepted.”
She opened the door, and they followed her into a room she called the special archive center. Metal cabinets were stacked against the walls. In the center of the space was a circular station that had six computer stations and one long table with chairs.
“This is impressive,” Jay said, looking around.
His compliment seemed to decrease the amount of frigid energy Francis was throwing. She smiled proudly. “We like to mix the old with the new. So what have you already heard about Harlan Duke?”
“There were questions surrounding his death,” Sonja said. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She felt too eager and tried to talk herself into a calmer state.
Francis looked at her as though she had just noticed her. “I see.” She walked over to one of the file cabinets and pulled open a drawer. “We’ve attempted to feature Duke during our True Pioneer week, but each year, we’ve been blocked by a major donor.”
Sonja frowned. “Who’s the donor?”
She slipped a thick manila folder out of the files. “I don’t know. That information is undisclosed.”
“Does this donor pay by check?” Jay asked.
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Again, that information is undisclosed.”
“Then secret donations are common?” he pressed.
“They are very common.” Francis held up a thick folder while flashing a sneaky smile. “But I can share this with you because this information has been featured in other exhibits. Harlan Duke is just one of many search names attached to the photos.”
Francis brought the folder to a long table and opened it. She started from the beginning, when Harlan Duke and others came to Midland to strike oil. There was one collage of those who’d accomplished what they came to town for in 1943. She showed them pictures of oil fields that had belonged to Harlan and his competitors.
“What about Harlan’s fourth wife?” Sonja asked, eager to hear something about her grandmother.
“Fourth wife? Harlan Duke was only married to one woman during his short life,” she said.
“Then he was only married to Lorraine Hester?”
Francis frowned. “Lorraine Hester?”
“Yes?” Sonja didn’t mean to sound so unsure, but Francis’s reaction confused her.
“No, that wasn’t his wife, but I remember that name,” she said.
Sonja jerked her neck. “What?"
“Excuse me?” Francis was on alert again, reading Sonja’s energy with caution.
Jay touched Sonja’s shoulder. “It’s okay, babe, our research led us to some wrong conclusions.” Then he put his hand on Francis’s shoulder. “But that’s why Francis is here to help us.”
Sonja gulped then made herself smile, trying to keep herself from showing how her inner house made of sand was crashing into dust inside of her.
Francis raised a finger and shook it. “One second then.”
Sonja held her stomach, wanting to barf. She was sure she’d heard Francis correctly. Her grandmother had not been married to Harlan Duke. That fact had been part of the only story of her gran’s past that had been told to her repeatedly.
Jay grabbed Sonja’s hand and nodded encouragingly at her. She wanted to groan, but instead she nodded back.
“Here it is,” Francis said then slammed the drawer of the file cabinet shut. She brought a white binder to the table and flipped through the pages of old photos, which were protected by plastic film. “Lorraine Hester was a waitress at Drillers and was rumored to be the mistress.”
Sonja’s mouth fell open. “Harlan Duke’s mistress?”
“No. Cyrus Wright’s mistress.”
Sonja struggled to maintain her composure. She cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Harlan Duke’s business partner?”
“Yes. Um…”—she frowned—“I have a picture of Lorraine Hester here.”
She flipped through more pages until the tip of her finger landed on a page and slid across a picture of two women with their arms around each other’s waists. They were standing in front of a cash register, which sat at the edge of a lunch counter. Francis leaned closer to get a better look at the picture then grimaced at Sonja. Sonja and her grandmother had the same strong features, like her graceful neck, oval face, and bright doe eyes.
“Lorraine Hester is my grandmother,” Sonja admitted, answering Francis’s curious expression. She pointed at the other woman in the photo. “But who’s this?”
Francis’s mouth fell open, then she closed it. “Um… that’s Dora Duke.”
“Cyrus Wright, is he still alive?” Sonja asked quickly, because it was apparent they were rapidly losing Francis’s willingness to assist them, and even Jay’s charm wouldn’t be able to get her back.
Francis’s hands were jerky as she pressed the binder closed then tucked it under her armpit. “I don’t know if Cyrus Wright is alive or not, but there’s nothing more here to show you.”
Sonja and Jay looked at each other.
“Well, thank you for your time,” Jay said.
Francis became even more frigid as she pursed her lips tightly then said in a cold tone, “Nate will show you out.”
Nate quietly escorted them to the loading dock at the back of the building. Jay waited there while Sonja drove the car around to pick him up. They were able to leave without causing a ruckus.
With Jay back in the driver’s seat, they were on the highway heading back to the house. Sonja clutched her stomach because she felt sick. Francis must’ve gotten it wrong. Her grandmother lying about being married to Harlan Duke didn’t make sense. And what an elaborate tale she had spun about how they met and slowly fallen more into a partnership of appreciation and trust than love.
“So how do you want to proceed?” Jay asked.
Sonja groaned. “I don’t know.” She smashed her hands over her face. “I mean, is this what Gran didn’t want me to know? That she lied about being married to Harlan Duke and instead she was banging his married business partner?”
“I’m sorry, Son,” Jay said.
She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. “And a mistress? That doesn’t sound like Gran at all.”
“I agree.” Jay’s definite tone made her feel more sure of her belief that what Francis had told them wasn’t true.
But then she remembered something. “You know how they say apples never fall too far from the tree?”
“Yeah?” he said.
Sonja took a deep breath. “Elaine and I have different fathers. They both were married, but neither of them were married to my mother.” She rubbed her face hard, perhaps in an effort to rid herself of that shameful reality.
“You never told me that.”
“That’s because I’m ashamed of it.”
“Don’t hide because of something your mother did. Let your mother deal with her own shame—that’s if she has any,” Jay said.
She sat very still and, after taking a breath, dropped her hands from her face. “You’re right.”
Jay reached over to take her hand but then quickly clutched the steering wheel as he craned his neck forward to put his face closer to the rearvie
w mirror. “What the hell…?”
Sonja whipped around to look out the back window. A man was driving on their tail while waving one hand out the window. She narrowed her eyes to focus on the face behind the windshield.
“That’s the security guard,” she said.
“From the museum?” Jay asked.
“Yeah.” She put a hand on his bicep. “Pull over. Let’s see what he wants.”
Jay rolled down his window. The man was definitely Nate from the museum.
“Hey,” Jay said with puzzlement in his tone.
All Sonja saw was the man’s torso as he handed Jay folded sheets of paper and said, “Go there now if you want more answers.”
“Where is this?” Jay asked, unfolding the pages.
When they looked at the open window, Nate was already walking back to his car. They sat in a state of awe until the man’s car drove past them then turned left at a median crossing in order to head back toward the museum.
They studied the two pages in Jay’s hands. The first page had directions, and the second was someone’s attempt at drawing a map. It was evident that whoever had drawn it had scribbled it in a hurry.
“So what do you want to do?” Jay asked.
Sonja closed her eyes to think. She was dead set on finding Cyrus Wright and asking him some questions. But first they had to find him. At least now they had a lead, which had literally fallen into their laps.
“I think we should go check it out,” Jay said.
“But what if it’s a trap?”
Jay caressed the side of her face as he stared into her eyes. “Son, I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” He nodded. “Okay?”
Sonja trembled because the person she had, in that very moment, decided to put her trust in was the boy who was once her best friend. But goodness that was long ago. When his lips moved in to connect with hers and their tongues delicately swirled, her head spun.
All she could say was, “Uh huh.”
Chapter 14
“Are you sure you’re reading that right?” Jay asked.
Sonja squinted at the words on the sheet of paper in her hands. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You think?” He was snappy and rightfully so.
Where in the hell had Nate led them? They had driven sixty-three miles out of town on the interstate, then onto an abandoned highway. They were passing through more desolate flatland comprised of yellow grass and thorny bushes. Then they made a left at the creek and were supposed to drive until they saw a log cabin. They had made that turn a half hour ago.
Sonja used her finger to trace each stop of the directions on the page. “Yes, I’m reading it right,” she snapped back then rubbed the inside corners of her strained eyes.
“Sorry, Son, I apologize for my tone.”
She sighed and looked at him. “It’s okay, I get it. This is frustrating as hell.”
Jay took her hand. “Let’s keep going. This road has to run out at some point.”
“Do you think we were purposely led astray?” she asked, but her words trailed off as the terrain suddenly offered a different picture. Sonja leaned forward toward the line of thick green trees, which appeared as though they were marching in a single-file line. Then she saw white smoke snaking up behind them. “I see something!”
“I see it too,” Jay said.
They looked at each other with slight smiles. After driving past the wall of the trees, they saw their destination. Sonja had pictured a small and neglected cabin, but beyond the lawn of maintained wild grass was a home made of pale wood and with lots of windows that was a cross between a lodge and a chateau.
As the car rolled up the dirt driveway, the wheels kicked up a minimum amount of dust. Sonja could also see that the smoke came from the back of the house, which made more sense since it was nearly a hundred degrees out.
“This place is nice,” Jay said.
“Yeah,” Sonja whispered, keeping her focus on the house. She assumed that whoever owned the house not only had means but sought isolation as well. “Do you think Cyrus Wright lives here?”
“Maybe. We can’t know until we know,” he replied as though he hadn’t a concern in the world.
Sonja gnawed nervously on her bottom lip as Jay killed the engine after carefully parking behind a red pickup truck, which sat beside a line of well-manicured hedges.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She turned to face his intense expression. He was definitely in charge, and more importantly, he appeared much braver than she was. Finally she nodded.
“Stay close,” he said before he got out of the car and ran around the front to open her door. She took his hand as they walked toward the front steps. “Let’s come up with a secret phrase just in case either of us feels uncomfortable.”
The closer they got to the front door, the harder Sonja found it to keep her breathing steady. “Good idea.”
Jay kissed her temple. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
She exhaled briskly. The visit to the museum had been so overwhelming and the drive so stressful that she felt as if she could rest her head on his chest, close her eyes, and sleep while walking.
“How about we ask if they have any pets as a ‘get the hell out of here’ question?” Jay asked.
Sonja was so nervous that she quickly forgot the question, but there was no need to let Jay know. She looked up at him with a manufactured smile. “Okay.”
He guided her close and kissed her temple again. “Don’t worry, babe.”
She was too nervous to focus on the fact that he’d called her babe and what that meant. They walked up the wooden plank steps, and Jay held her hand tighter as he rang the doorbell. He still looked like the picture of calm. They raised their eyebrows at each other and he winked before facing forward again. Sonja almost passed out as she watched the door creep open.
Sonja was shocked and relieved to see a woman about her grandmother’s age.
“Well, you made it,” the woman said as though it sort of bothered her that they were there but she knew they had to come. She wore loose-fitting jeans and a button-front white light cotton shirt with cap sleeves. She looked like she belonged in the middle of nowhere, living in comfort on such a grand estate. The corners of the woman’s mouth were turned down as her probing eyes rolled up and down Sonja’s form twice before landing on her face. “Does Lori know you’ve been in town asking all your questions?”
Sonja frowned. “Lori?”
“Your grandma, Lori?”
Sonja’s eyes expanded as though she had been caught with both hands in the cookie jar. “Oh. Um. Well…”
“Never mind.” The woman grunted then glared at Jay. “And you’re that actor.”
Jay stood up straight. “Yes, ma’am.”
She narrowed an eye. “I like what you do, especially when you played Hawk in Nowhere to Return.”
He glanced at Sonja, and she saw the element of surprise in his expression. “Thank you.”
She put her focus back on Sonja. “Well, y’all come in and let’s see what I can and can’t tell you.”
Jay nodded at Sonja, which told her that he felt just as safe about entering the stranger’s house as she did. The woman held the door open as they walked inside.
“Sorry, I never got your name,” Sonja said.
“That’s because I haven’t given it,” the woman said.
Sonja and Jay raised their eyebrows at each other again as the woman closed the door.
“This way,” she said.
The house smelled like potpourri and catnip. The sun-filled rooms, exposed brick, and overabundance of knit throws and fluffy pillows gave each room that cozy and warm feeling.
The woman led them into a small room on the back end of the house and right off a formal dining room. As far as furniture to sit on, there were only two leather armchairs and a cloth sofa with a matching ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. Sonja noticed the woman’s short, curly gray hair and small but strong frame
after she sat in the center of the sofa. She and Jay got the message, and each of them took a seat in one of the chairs. The woman crossed her legs and arms, and Sonja found herself appreciating her vitality.
“What do you know about your grandma?” she asked, eyeing Sonja like a hawk.
Sonja readjusted her bottom against the firm leather cushion as she remembered to breathe. For some reason, the woman’s inquiry felt like the trick question at the end of an exam. “Um”—Sonja cleared her throat—“She left home when she was sixteen and came to Midland, Texas. That was in 1954, and the first job she found when she came to town was a waitress.”
She paused to gauge the woman’s reaction. Her expression said that she was patiently waiting to hear more.
Sonja blew a brisk sigh because she had already learned that the next thing she knew about her grandmother wasn’t true. “And two years later, she married Harlan Duke.”
The woman narrowed both eyes but kept her lips clamped.
“I believe that was in 1956, and three years later, Harlan died,” Sonja mumbled because the lady had uncrossed her legs and arms.
“Is that all?” her host asked.
Sonja glanced at Jay. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay well, Francis let me know that she told you your grandmother was never married to Harlan. But they were as much of friends as they could be. Harlan used to love to come into Drillers and give everybody advice on how to live better.” She grunted. “Lorraine was the only one who’d listen to him though.”
Sonja felt her heart drop to her stomach. “My gran said she loved his business advice.”
“Yep,” she said, dipping her head. “I reckon that’s why Lori’s a rich lady today.”
Sonja swallowed hard as she smiled weakly. She had heard the worst things about her grandmother that afternoon, so it was refreshing to hear something good.
“But Harlan only married one woman and for a very short time. See, their parents put them together. Harlan’s family was in the oil business, and so was hers. But he bought his wife Drillers to keep her busy.” She sniffed as she looked off nostalgically. “Harlan and his wife liked each other a whole lot, but they didn’t love each other at all.”
Once Friends Page 11