by Peggy Webb
Catching his eye, she lingered until the others had left the room. “I want to thank you for sharing your family Christmas.”
She put her hand on his arm. “Did you enjoy it? Really?”
“Yes.” More than she’d ever know. “Elizabeth, this thing between you and Sullivan seems to be moving pretty fast. Be careful.”
“Oh, Lance.” He’d always thought the prettiest thing about Elizabeth was her laughter. It pealed like bells through the empty dining room. “He’s a pussy-cat. And he thinks you’re terrific.”
“He doesn’t know me.”
“Yes, he does. Don’t get mad. I didn’t tell, and he won’t tell, either. He recognized your name from the papers. He said, and I quote, ‘He’s a damn hero, and if the public doesn’t realize that, they ought to be ashamed’.”
“Tell him I’ll shake his hand the next time I see him.”
“When will that be, Lance?”
“I don’t know.” He had a name to discover and dragons to slay. Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. “Take care of yourself, beautiful.”
“You too, hotshot.”
Chapter 15
“I don’t understand why you’re leaving today,” Lucy said.
“After I take Miss Birdie to Pontotoc I want to get back to Memphis so I can spend the rest of the holidays spiffing up my apartment,” Jolie told her.
“You’re not upset because I’m going to marry Ben, are you?”
Lucy and Ben had announced their intentions the previous night during dessert and coffee.
“Good heavens, Mother. I’m thrilled. And so are Elizabeth and Matt. You two deserve some happiness.”
“We are perfectly happy with our unconventional lifestyle, but it doesn’t make sense to keep two houses.... You’ll come back for the New Year’s Eve party, won’t you?”
The last thing she wanted to do was come back to O’Banyon Manor to witness the rest of her family happily paired off, each with somebody to love. Still, Lucy was looking so hopeful that Jolie couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
“I’ll see,” she answered, all the while thinking she’d find some excuse not to come. Unless, of course, Elizabeth decided to announce her engagement.
Jolie kissed her mother’s cheek. “’Bye, Mom. I’ll call you when I get home.”
She packed her car, then set off to Hanging Grapes Haven with Birdie in the front seat and Jimmy Stewart in the back.
“Is that Jacky?” Birdie asked.
“No, that’s just a cardboard cutout.”
“Why is he grinning like that? Does he know something we don’t?”
Obviously, this was not one of Birdie’s good days. Jolie decided to just go with the flow.
“Probably,” she said.
“Well, he ought to let us in on the joke.”
Jolie wished somebody would. Birdie swiveled around and spent the remainder of the drive talking to Jimmy Stewart.
If there was any way she could take care of Birdie, Jolie would have just taken her to Memphis, but that was out of the question. She didn’t have enough space, and she didn’t have the financial resources. Besides, who would look after Birdie while Jolie worked?
She said goodbye, then made the long, lonely drive home. When she got back to Memphis she pulled a double fistful of Christmas cards out of her mailbox. She was so grateful to the U.S. Post Office she thought she might write them a thank-you note. Most of her friends sent long newsletters, especially the married ones. Now she’d have something to do tonight instead of sitting around talking to Jimmy Stewart and missing Lance.
Ina’s call came while Lance was on his way to Atlanta. He was sitting in a diner on the Alabama-Georgia border when his cell phone rang.
“I’m so glad I caught you,” his former housemother said. “I have news.”
“Good news, I hope.”
“Not exactly. The little cookie girl called Sarah, the one I thought might be your mother, died the year after I left the orphanage. I’m sorry, Lancelot.”
“You did all you could, and I’m grateful.”
“She does have family, though—a younger brother still living in Phoenix, if that helps.”
“Yes. If you’ll give me the address I’d like to come out and talk to him.”
“Don’t you dare come without stopping by to visit me. Do you have a pen and pencil handy?”
Lance wrote down the address, thinking a phone call would be easier, but a trip to Phoenix would help fill up the remainder of his holiday. Even better, it would put more than a thousand miles between him and Jolie, and remove all temptation to drive up to Memphis to see her. There was no way he could see her again without making love with her, and no way he would make love with her until he had a name and a promise to go with it.
During the last three days Jolie had spent so much time organizing her apartment, she dreamed about alphabetized cans of soup. When somebody knocked and she saw her neighbor Connie through the peephole, she was so grateful she pulled her friend inside, then danced a jig.
“Is this happiness to see me?” Connie asked.
“You bet it is. I didn’t expect you back until after the first.”
“Changed my mind. Couldn’t wait to show off this.” She held up a finger adorned with a diamond ring. “Besides, company and fish stink after three days. I think Wayne’s parents were as tired of me as I was of them.”
Jolie couldn’t take her eyes off the diamond. Was everybody in the world getting married? What was it—something in the water? Something in the air?
Obviously, she was immune.
For the first time in her life she had to force enthusiasm for Connie’s good fortune. “That’s great. It really is. I’m so happy for you. I really am.”
“Oh, yeah? You don’t sound happy. What’s up?”
Jolie ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “My job’s still hanging. I met a man I love but I don’t think he feels the same. And mops with those little screw-on sponges ought to be outlawed.”
“Last time I used one I wrapped duct tape around the sponge to hold it on. By the way, your apartment looks great, and I don’t think you’re going to hear from the SPCA until after the first. Now tell all.”
“There’s nothing to tell, except a few kisses that were over-the-moon wonderful.”
“Listen, Kat, if you felt those kinds of sparks, you can bet he felt something.”
“How do you know?”
“Rule number five in the Good Girl’s Book of Love—if sparks are flying, both parties feel them.”
“I’ve never heard of that book.”
“I just made it up. But it’s true. Trust me. Every man I kissed felt flat till Wayne Humphries lit my fire. He said it was the same with him.”
“Connie, do you think I can make myself over and get a new job and be in love all at the same time?”
“Why not? That’s what the women’s magazines tell us—we’re supposed to have it all.”
“Tomorrow, will you go down to Saint John’s and light a candle with me?”
“I thought you were Methodist.”
“It won’t hurt to cover all the bases.”
Lance’s flight out of Atlanta was delayed, so it was nearly midnight when he reached Phoenix, far too late to call the man Ina had told him about.
He made the call first thing the next morning. Lance had the distinct feeling that the man might have refused to see him—a stranger calling out of the blue—if he hadn’t already flown across the country.
Lance rented a four-wheel-drive truck, then wound his way into the red bluffs until he came to a ranch on the outskirts of town. The wooden sign over the curved entranceway read Shane Ranch.
The man he was going to see, Sarah’s younger brother, was a member of the Apache Nation. Lance had learned that from Ina, as well as the fact that Clyde Shane was an influential man, greatly respected in his community. Lance could see why he wouldn’t welcome the idea of anyone coming in to lay claim to the family.
&
nbsp; On the other hand, this could turn into a wild-goose chase. Maybe Sarah Shane was not Lance’s mother. Even if she was, the family might have its reasons for keeping the birth a secret.
Lance parked his rental truck beside a Porsche and two Cadillacs, then went through a winding rock garden complete with waterfall, and rang the doorbell of the sprawling cypress-wood house.
A tall, dark-skinned man with the eyes of a warrior opened the door.
“Lancelot Estes?”
“Yes.”
“Come in. I have a luncheon meeting at noon, so we’ll make this brief.”
“I understand.”
He led Lance into an office that had only one personal touch: a framed photograph of a pretty, dark-eyed woman with gray in her hair. Probably his wife. There was nothing else to give Lance a clue about the man.
He had told Clyde that he was looking for his birth mother and that he had reason to believe Sarah might be the one, so he didn’t waste time repeating it. Instead, he sat in a leather wing chair facing the desk and waited for his host to speak.
“What information do you have that led you to me?” he asked.
“It’s anecdotal. Sarah used to sell cookies at the orphanage where I grew up, and my friend, who was housemother at that time, believes Sarah’s interest in me was personal.”
“You have nothing, then.”
“No. Nothing concrete. Only instincts, which I never discount. I’m an agent with the International Security Force, Mr. Shane. My survival often depends on my instincts.”
“My sister Sarah died of leukemia at the age of twenty-one, Mr. Estes. She was not married and she had no children.” Clyde Shane stood up. “I’m sorry you’ve come all this way.”
The meeting was over. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Shane.” Lance put his card on the desk. “If you think of anything that might help me find my birth mother, please call.”
As he walked down the hall beside the taciturn man, his training as well as his instincts kicked into high gear. Clyde Shane was lying. All the signs were there: his failure to look directly at Lance, the rapid blinking when he talked about Sarah, the change of pitch in his voice.
Still, Lance had no choice but to leave. He had no concrete evidence, and even if he did, he couldn’t force this man to tell him the truth. No crime had been committed. No laws broken.
He was back at square one. He would have changed his ticket and flown back to Atlanta tomorrow if he hadn’t promised to visit Ina. Lance never broke a promise, and he wasn’t going to start now.
Even a man without a name could still have honor.
Elizabeth called Jolie at the Pampered Pooch Salon, her Tuesday and Thursday client. Mondays and Wednesdays Jolie groomed at Pretty Pets. Fridays and weekends she picked up jobs at dog shows.
“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I, Kat?”
Jolie brushed dog hair off her smock and blew her bangs out of her eyes. Lord, her hair grew like a weed.
“Nothing that can’t wait till my favorite soap opera gets Bo and Hope back together.”
“Listen, I’m not announcing my engagement at Mother’s New Year’s Eve party.”
“Well, okay. When are you announcing it?”
“Never! The engagement is off!”
“But I thought you were madly in love.”
“Mad is the operative word here. I must have been insane to get mixed up with that…that Irish hooligan.”
“What happened?”
“I flew up to Boston right after Christmas, to meet his family.”
“And?”
“There are so many of them! They kept inspecting me like I’m a brood cow and saying, ‘Now, how old are you?’ And when I told them thirty-five, they said, ‘You and Michael will want to get started on the family right away.’ They actually thought I was going to give up my career and settle down in Podunksville to raise babies.”
“But you want children, don’t you?”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“Michael just laughed. I wanted to kill him.”
“That’s all? That’s the reason you broke up with him?”
“That’s not the half of it! Once the beer got flowing, his brother Thomas wanted Michael to take off his shirt and show how many places he’d been shot. God, he could die on me!”
Elizabeth started crying, and Jolie figured the world was coming to an end, because her sister never cried.
“I’m sure everything will work out.” Jolie really believed what she told her sister, because the fact was, things always did work out for Elizabeth.
“I don’t want to see him again.” Her sister sniffled. “You won’t tell Mom any of this, will you, Kat?”
“Not even if restless natives stick thorns under my fingernails.”
“Thanks. Have you talked to Lance?”
“No.” It was a painful admission that made her sound like a girl nobody wanted to love. “Why?”
“I was going to discuss the documentary with him…about forgotten seniors. He’s not returning my calls, but that’s not unusual. I want to interview him about Birdie. You, too, Kat.”
It was amazing how Elizabeth could bounce back from a crisis. Jolie wished she could be more like that.
“Can you wait till my bangs grow out? They would scare old ladies and little children.”
“Listen, if Lance calls, tell him to call me ASAP, okay? I want to start this ball rolling while the idea is hot.”
“I will,” Jolie answered. She wasn’t about to admit that chances of the moon turning to cheese were greater than those of Lance calling her.
She couldn’t worry about that now. She had too many other things on her mind. Mrs. Jenkins’s poodle, for one. She’d developed the nervous habit of gnawing her hair off in wads, and it was Jolie’s job to make her beautiful again.
She picked up her clippers and went back to her grooming room. “Are you ready for this, Isadora?” The dog licked her hands. “Okay, then, let’s get beautiful.”
Jolie glared at the cell phone, muttering, “Ring, why don’t you?” then finally put it on the bookshelf within easy reach…just in case.
Chapter 16
Once Jolie convinced her mother that she wouldn’t die of loneliness because she wasn’t driving down to Mississippi for the New Year’s Eve party, she called to check on Birdie. Then she spent the next half hour trying to decide between an exciting evening with Harry Potter or an uplifting one with Jimmy Stewart. Harry Potter won. Putting on her long wool coat and hat because a sudden dip in temperature plus the threat of snow had surprised and chilled Memphis residents, Jolie went to the movies.
Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t get kissed at midnight, but she got to eat a large bucket of buttered popcorn all by herself. It was one of the many joys of being single. Jolie couldn’t think of the others right now because her heart hurt a little, but she was sure she would think of them tomorrow. After all, tomorrow was the start of a brand-new year.
She was the only person who cried at the Harry Potter movie, but that wasn’t saying much because there were only two other people in the theater. Didn’t they have any sensitivity?
Sitting in the dark, her fingers greasy with butter and her face streaked with tears, Jolie made a mental note to head to Memphis State University as soon as the holidays were over and register for Spanish classes, never mind that it was Elizabeth’s choice. Her sister was right. Spanish made more sense.
Elizabeth always made sense, and look what it had gotten her: success, financial security and a fiancé who dropped out of the blue and into her arms. Well, strike the fiancé. At least for now. Still, Jolie would do well to pattern herself after her sister. Heck, maybe she’d even call Elizabeth tomorrow and ask to borrow her New Year’s resolutions. It couldn’t hurt.
But the next day, thoughts of calling her sister flew right out of her mind, when the gift shop around the corner delivered a box of chocolates with a note attached: “Happy New Yea
r, Jolie.”
It was signed simply “Lance,” and though it wasn’t a declaration of love, it was enough. For now.
Two weeks after he’d left O’Banyon Manor, Lance headed back again, this time to be interviewed. Appearing on film was the next to last thing he wanted to do right now. The last thing was to see Jolie. He wasn’t ready. But Elizabeth had asked a favor, and he hadn’t been reassigned yet, so how could he say no after she’d so generously invited him to share her family’s Christmas?
The closer he got to Shady Grove the more tense he became. Keeping his hands off Jolie had been difficult before. After a three-week separation, it was going to be next to impossible. He was almost in sight of O’Banyon Manor when he decided he’d visit Birdie first. The short detour wouldn’t delay Elizabeth’s filming, but it would postpone facing Jolie.
Even though he called Birdie two times a week, nothing could replace personal visits. Besides seeing her, he needed the staff to see him. He wanted them to know that somebody was watching on Birdie’s behalf, somebody who cared.
Halfway to Pontotoc the rains started and the temperature tumbled. If it kept dropping, the roads could get bad, and nobody in the South was equipped to deal with ice-slick roads, including Lance. But he decided to push on. He could hole up at a motel if road conditions got bad enough.
When he pulled into the nursing home’s parking lot, the first thing he saw was Jolie’s car with the still-dented fender. It was too late to go back now. Rain was already freezing on the roads. Besides, if he didn’t get in there pronto, Jolie would probably set out for home and end up in a ditch again. Or worse.
He heard the Christmas music before he got to Birdie’s room. “Jingle Bell Rock” blared while Birdie and Jolie danced. The sight made his heart hurt. He watched from the doorway until Jolie spotted him.
“Lance. How wonderful to see you.” Her voice was full of smiles and music, and it thawed him right down to the bone.
“You, too, Jolie. How have you been? How’s the bruise?”