by Viqui Litman
“Maybe he is afraid, and maybe he’ll get over it. Maybe Laura will insist on another baby. Who knows?” She turned slightly toward him. “Are you going to make a move on me, or what?”
“Well, I was,” said Tony, drawing her close. “But then we’ll have to walk back up to the car and that might break the mood. So how about if we walk back up to the car and I drive to a secluded spot and kiss you and then we can see if we want to go to a motel?”
“Do I get the right to say no?” Della asked.
Even in the dark she could see a grin. “I’ll take my chances.”
In some ways, thought Della as she followed him up the path, he takes more risks than Richard ever did.
The spot he chose was the Boy Scouts’ roadside park where Barbara had told Della she was dying. Della didn’t even try to conceal it. He listened patiently, his arm around her as they sat side by side atop the picnic table next to the highway.
“Poor Tony,” she said as she wound down the tale. “You can’t get away from the difficulties of the Ladies Farm.”
“Because you can’t.”
“Well, the Ladies Farm is pretty much my life.”
“Why is that?” he asked. “I always thought you’d find someone else and get married. I can’t believe you’re still single.”
Because when you were courting Suzanne, I was entertaining Richard with cozy, late-night dinners. While you were adjusting to stepchildren, I was flying off to meet Richard in Phoenix and Portland and New Orleans. You were filing for divorce and I was still looking over my shoulder while I drove to our tryst at some Hill Country retreat. I was hiding and lying and totally consumed by my secret passion. There was no time for making a suitable match.
Della took a deep breath, then shrugged. “Maybe there’s just no such thing as Mr. Right,” her voice as offhanded as she could make it. “I don’t know, really. At our age, all the good men are married.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Well, you were married.”
“I was the only one in the relationship who seemed to notice.”
“You think you’ll get married again?” she asked.
“I don’t know. What about you?”
“I doubt it. I’ve just been on my own too long, Tony. You know, you get used to it after a while, and someone sharing your life seems like an intrusion.”
He pulled her close to him. “Don’t you miss … you know … having someone to be with?”
“I miss screwing,” she said. “I miss sleeping with someone.”
“Me too,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.
It wasn’t subtle, but it was effective. She squirmed a little and leaned into him. When he finally did kiss her, there was such sweet comfort in the taste of him that Della simply clung.
The motel, an inn at Lake Whitney, was predictable and the things he whispered to her were all the things she remembered from before. Della closed her eyes to hear him better. There was a thrill in knowing what came next and then having it happen exactly the way it should.
“Are you okay?” he asked her as she lay quiet in his arms.
“Yes,” she said automatically. She didn’t know if he meant okay with what they had done, or okay about the Ladies Farm or okay about Barbara dying or okay with the arrangement of pillows and blankets. But I’m okay for going to sleep in bed with Tony, Della thought.
Barbara dressed carefully. The diaper gave her a little more confidence, but she had to choose baggier clothes to conceal the bulk. She selected two pills from the bottle atop her dressing table and set them next to the glass of water. She wanted to wait until just before she left; it would give her a few extra minutes of eased breathing.
Resting in the upholstered chair next to the window, Barbara looked over the slope down to the narrow river and then up again at the opposite bank. The early morning sun illuminated the tops of the cottonwoods that dotted the hill, turning their feathery silhouette from black to gray to a silvery green. She thought about Richard, about the way he was always up before she was. She would awaken to hear him humming to himself as he shaved, or, on weekends, to the coffee and toast he would bring on a tray.
Morning was always their time. No matter how late he came in the night before, no matter how angry her accusations, how ludicrously vehement his denials, Richard had always managed to make her early mornings a time when she felt treasured and protected, loved and desired.
Now, though, the step outside her door was Rita, who knocked softly and called her name. “You up?” Rita whispered as she cracked the door and peeked in.
Barbara motioned her in, and Rita almost wriggled with excitement. “Guess who didn’t come home last night from her date with Tony?”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding!” Rita seated herself with a bounce on the edge of the bed. “That Tony! I could tell by the sound of his voice on the phone, he was going for it!” She pulled her lavender wrapper closer to herself and surveyed Barbara’s outfit. “You all ready to go?”
Barbara nodded. “I’m glad for Della,” she said, pushing herself up from the chair. “She’s been alone too long.”
She felt Rita watching her as she made her way back to the glass of water and took the two pills. “I’ve been thinking,” Barbara said as she lifted her purse to her shoulder. “I think I’ll go ahead and drive myself. I don’t want Hugh Junior wondering if I’m okay.”
Rita frowned. “You sure?”
Barbara smiled. “It’s just a few blocks. Nothing to it!”
The walk to the car was the hardest part, but Barbara managed it, just as she managed to park in the front of the pharmacy and walk without hesitation to the booth at the fountain. The girl behind the counter, Randi, came out and poured her a cup of coffee and asked how things were at the Ladies Farm.
“Oh, I think we’re getting back to normal.” Barbara smiled and looked toward the door. “Here’s my date.”
Randi remembered Hugh Jr., and they exchanged polite greetings. Barbara ordered eggs and sausage with buttered toast.
“I believe in living dangerously,” she joked.
“Look,” he told her when their greetings were over, “I guess Della and Rita told you I’ve had this offer from Castleburg. Truth is, I’m uncomfortable about letting them explain the offer to you. Because it’s up to you what you do, but you should know the whole story, and what’s possible for you. Castleburg and his gravel could really set you up.”
Castleburg was offering them two hundred and eighty thousand dollars each in exchange for the property. “Or you could do what I’m doing,” Hugh Jr. said, sitting up and throwing his shoulders back. “He wanted to buy the property outright, but I pitched him a counter offer: I hold on to the land, he pays me forty percent of his gross. His gross!” Hugh Jr. smiled.
Barbara guessed it was the smile that did it. Those large, even, white teeth, the flush, the hint of a dimple in the chin: It was Hugh all over, right down to the totally naïve pride in negotiating a really bad deal.
“They can see him coming,” Richard would say, time after time.
“Hugh,” Barbara said softly, “why don’t you let me give you and Melissa two-ninety and be done with it?”
“Then you’d get forty percent of everything.”
“Actually, Hugh, what I’d get would be the pleasure of letting Della and Kat and Rita continue the Ladies Farm. And the joy of providing you and Melissa with a sure thing, instead of forty percent of Castleburg’s version of the gross.”
His eyes had narrowed and his lips tightened. “It’s what I should have expected,” he said. “Isn’t it enough that you ruined my mother’s life? Why do you want to cheat Melissa and me?”
“Cheat you?” Barbara blinked.
“My mother wrote all about it,” he told her. “She wrote about it when it happened, and she wrote about it for years after they had to leave Fort Worth and drag us all the way out here to get away from you. She wrote about it every time you and your husband lent th
em money, and she wrote about it when she saw that amethyst on your fat little finger. And that’s what killed her. You and that amethyst!”
Hugh Jr. looked far more astonished at his fury than Barbara felt. “Hugh, considering how angry you are, I’m especially impressed with how hard you’re trying to be fair.”
“You know,” he picked up the theme, “I could have really taken you, told you Castleburg was offering one-eighty and picked up the difference. You wouldn’t have had a clue.”
“That’s right,” Barbara concurred. “You could have.” She regarded him quizzically. “I appreciate your patience … and your generosity,” Barbara said. “I just wish …” Barbara looked down at her eggs, which she had been moving around her plate, “I do wish, Hugh, that there was a way for Della and Kat to hang on to the Ladies Farm. You know,” she paused again, “the way your mother wanted.”
“They could stay,” Hugh Jr. said, his voice level and firm. “If they meet Castleburg’s offer.”
Barbara pressed her lips together and gazed down at her uneaten breakfast, amazed one more time that food no longer meant anything to her. You can eat anything you want, she told herself, and you want nothing.
“Della and Kat could meet Castleburg’s offer,” he repeated. “But they’d better decide fast. Because I’m giving up my forty percent if I do that. And Castleburg’s waiting on me.”
The morning was not nearly as awkward as Della had feared. Tony gallantly made a run to the convenience store for toothbrushes and orange juice, after which they managed a shower together and a pleasant breakfast at the nearby Waffle House.
She squeezed Tony’s hand, and they sat across from each other, smiling dumbly and talking about going to a movie in the evening. “Of course, now I have to face Rita and her I told you so,” Della said.
“Hey, I told you so too, and you don’t mind facing me.”
“True. But facing you isn’t real life right now.”
He shook his head. “Della, what do I have to say? I want to be part of your real life.”
“Tony, I was just making a joke! This,” she waved a hand around the Waffle House, “is not my life. Not yours either.”
“Well, I don’t think what we did was a joke.”
“Did I laugh last night?”
Now he grinned. “Well, I thought I heard you giggling about halfway through.”
“Gasps of pleasure, I’m sure,” she said. “Anyway, I do need to get back.”
“What are you going to do about Castleburg and Hugh Junior?”
“I don’t know,” Della replied. “And I won’t ever know if I stay here.”
“Does this mean our date’s officially over?” He picked up the check and studied it.
“I don’t know. If I say yes, does that mean I have to split the cost of the meal with you?”
Tony shot her a dark look and motioned her up. They were both quiet on their way back to Sydonia, and Della began to review her options with Kat. I could buy the Ladies Farm without her, or she could buy it without me. But it would be a financial stretch for either one without the other. And Della was sure that Kat, once she calmed down, would still want to be Della’s partner.
And, assuming Kat and I can keep our own secrets, Della’s plan continued, maybe Barbara would underwrite a note or something to help buy out Hugh Jr. or counter Castleburg.
Maybe I should just remarry Tony, Della thought, stealing a glance at him. I’m not that attached to the Ladies Farm. Or Sydonia.
It was pleasant to picture Tony and herself redecorating their old house, hosting dinners there, playing with Katie in the family room, even working together at the copy shop. It seemed very simple compared to the mess she was in.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Nothing much,” she replied. “This was nice.”
“Nice?”
“What I’m saying is I’m glad you asked me, Tony.”
“Oh, good. Then you’ll see me again?”
“Tony, I’ll see you again, but I’m not sure how serious … I mean, I don’t want to rush into things.”
“I don’t know.” He turned the car off the highway and toward the square. “You seemed to be in a rush last night.”
Della laughed, shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
Tony sighed as they completed their pass by the square and turned onto Travis. “Well, I would like to see you tonight. We could go to the movies. Maybe in Fort Worth, this time. You could spend the night at the house.”
Della swallowed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. How about if we pick a movie and I meet you there?”
“Sure.”
Rita was pacing the porch when they pulled up. “I feel like a misbehaving teenager,” Della muttered. “Am I grounded?” she called to Rita as she got out of the car.
“Grounded?” Comprehension brightened Rita’s face. “Oh, you’re okay, I wasn’t worried about you, you were with Tony. I’m just waiting on Dave. He’s got to drive into Fort Worth with me to pick up Kat. The damn Worthington’s throwing her out for making a scene in the bar. She called me in tears, drunk as a skunk, and we’ve got to go get her.”
Chapter 13
“I’ll go,” Della volunteered. She must have climbed the porch steps too fast for her heart to be racing the way it was.
“No, Dave’s on his way.” Rita looked from Della to Tony. “Besides, you should ask Tony to stay for lunch. We’ve got a nice bunch of guests, and Barbara’s making cranberry torte.”
“I’ll take Della to get Kat,” Tony offered. “There’s no sense dragging Dave away from the station.”
Della didn’t want to imagine a conversation between Tony and the drunken Kat. “I’m going to get Kat by myself,” Della announced. “I’m the one who fought with her, I’m the one who has to make it up.”
“Honey, she’s real drunk,” Rita warned. “She may just be spoiling for another fight now. If I were you, I’d take Tony.”
“No!” This wasn’t coming out right, Tony’s expression was hardening as she watched. “Look, this is something I have to do by myself. It’s not that I don’t want your help. Honest.”
“I’m going to call Dave off,” Rita said. “You two can duke this one out. But hurry. They’re about to put her butt out on the street!”
“Look,” Della said to Tony, barely listening to Rita’s exit, “this is between Kat and me.”
“I get it,” Tony said. “You don’t have to keep repeating it. I’m just worried about your wrestling a drunk into your car, Della.”
And I’m just worried about your hearing a drunk reveal that I slept with Richard. That we sneaked around for years while I built a new career and impressed the world with my independence.
Della reached a hand out to stroke the side of his stubbly face. “I’ll take the car phone,” she promised. “If I need extra muscle, I’ll call for backup.”
“Well, use leverage,” Tony advised. “Plant your feet, grab her around the middle, and twist her into the car. She’s a lot younger than you, don’t let her strength surprise you.”
“Oh, thanks,” Della chirped, heading inside. No time to change clothes, but at least she could trade the sandals for some ground-gripping sneakers.
Tony was still issuing advice as she walked out to the driveway and fired up the Honda. He motioned to roll down the window, then leaned inside to kiss her. “Call me,” he ordered.
“Yes, dear,” she laughed, backing out onto the street with the window still open.
Once on the highway, Della called the Worthington and asked to be put through to Kat’s room. When no one answered, she asked for the manager. That brought a cheerful young woman to the phone who knew who Kat was and confirmed that she still occupied the room she had checked into the previous afternoon.
“Well, I’m on my way to get her. I understand she’s been asked to leave.”
“I believe she’s checking out shortly.”
“You want to tell me what happened?�
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“That would violate our responsibilities to our guests. I can say—”
“We’re discussing a guest you’re throwing out. I’m coming to relieve you of her presence. I suggest you tell me what happened. Maybe we can avoid a screaming fit in your highly refined lobby.”
“Evidently, when Ms. Naylor realized we didn’t open our bar at nine in the morning, she demonstrated her unhappiness by hurling chairs over the mezzanine balcony into the lobby. Thank God no one was injured.”
“Did she say anything?” Della wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder to downshift as she merged onto the freeway.
“Oh, quite a bit.” The voice warmed a little. “Most of it was directed at our maître d’ and then at our security guards. She evidently started drinking quite early.”
“I guess so,” Della said, “if she ran out by nine.” Della had never seen Kat drunk, but she had seen her angry and considered the wrath of Kat a force of nature worth avoiding.
The manager confirmed that Kat was up in her room and conceded that it was possible the present quiet might indicate that Kat had either passed out or convinced one of the staff to run over to the liquor store for her. Della believed the latter, which might work to her advantage. Kat in a stupor might be far easier than Kat in a fury.
The manager met her in the lobby and escorted her to Kat’s room.
They knocked first, the manager rapping with authority and calling, “Ms. Naylor?”
They heard fumbling, heavy steps.
Kat was a mess. Bunches of hair stood at right angles to her head. Her eyes were swollen, her clothes—the ones from yesterday’s meeting with Hugh Jr.—bunched and wrinkled. Della caught just a whiff of the alcohol before the door started closing.