by Mary Walker
“Oh, that’s nice of you, Kate, but with murders and viper bites and all, goodness, I don’t imagine you’ve had much time for missing. Listen, dear, I hope you don’t find us interfering old busybodies, but we paid Joe his wages for the last two weeks. We knew you didn’t want to lose him. He’s a gem really, keeping the place so nice and keeping the boarding business going for you. When I was over there, I noticed he’d even chopped your mesquite for you and stacked it at the back door the way you always do in October. The nights are cool enough now for fires. And, Kate, that yellow viguiera is everywhere this year. Best fall for it I ever did see.”
Katherine sat up on the bed. “Hester, I’ll pay you back. Tomorrow. Is Higgins okay?”
“Oh, my, yes. His hair has grown back over the shaved place and we’re still practicing his sits and downs. I think we need to go on to heel and stay. When do you think you’ll have time to work with him?”
Katherine was crying so hard she could barely answer. “Soon. Very soon. Thanks for everything, Hester.”
“Well, I know you’re in a hurry, dear. Take care. Bye now.”
Katherine hung up the phone, then pushed the button for the nurses’ station and asked for Anne Driscoll’s room number.
She got up from the bed with the help of her cane, her lucky cane, and headed slowly toward the elevator. Her grandmother was just one floor up.
In the elevator, she blotted her face on her dress and pushed her damp hair behind her ears.
She knocked on the closed door of room 511.
“Come,” said the voice, authoritative and clipped.
Anne was propped up in bed dressed in a quilted peach satin bedjacket. Her hair had been done in a smooth chignon and she was wearing tiny diamond hoops in her ears. She had managed a spark of glamour in spite of the purple bruises on her neck and the cut on her cheek.
Katherine opened her mouth. The words were difficult. First they stuck in her throat and then tears threatened to overwhelm them, but she finally managed. “Thank you,” she said. Then, meeting her grandmother’s steady gray eyes, she said it again: “Thank you.”
Anne waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s just a cash advance on your salary this year. You’ll earn it. But it was a very close thing yesterday. Wasn’t it, John?” She glanced in the direction of an elderly man in a gray three-piece suit sitting in a chair next to the window and reading some papers. He looked up at Katherine and rose to his feet.
“We just made it, Miss Driscoll. The bank had a buyer lined up. Local rancher. I think he was disappointed mainly because of the dog. Mr. Rainey at the Bank of Boerne would like you to stop by at your convenience to pick up the canceled mortgage and sign some of his paperwork.”
Katherine’s heart fluttered. It was really true. “Thank you, Mr. Crowley.”
He started to respond, but Anne interrupted. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Katherine. We need to get to work on the foundation. You’re well enough for this, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Sure you are. Cooper’s left things in quite a mess, so you’ve got your job cut out for you. Pull up a chair and let’s start with signing some papers. John, give her that foundation contract, please. At the hourly rates you’re charging me, you could move a little faster. Sit down, Katherine. We need to decide what to do about Sam McElroy and Hans Dieterlen.”
Katherine remained standing. “How about tomorrow, Anne? Right now I’m getting discharged and I haven’t seen my dog in four days. Also, I need to drive to Boerne to attend to my own business, but I’ll be back tomorrow, ready to go to work.” Katherine looked at John Crowley. “What would be a good time for you tomorrow, John?”
He was trying to suppress a smile, but it broke through into a radiant display of perfect dentures. “How about after lunch, Miss Driscoll? Two o’clock.” He looked over at Anne and raised his eyebrows. “Mrs. Driscoll?”
Anne was staring hard at Katherine, her eyes cold slate, lips straight and tight. It was a long thirty seconds before she said, “Two o’clock tomorrow suits me fine.”
Katherine limped to the bed, leaned over, and kissed her grandmother lingeringly on the cheek. She smelled of talcum powder and mothballs and Shalimar, old and rich and very complex.
“Is Alonzo Stokes angry with me?” Katherine asked.
“No. He’s humiliated that you know all about it. He feels you must despise him. He said he hoped you would come back and spend some time in the reptile house.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Katherine said, walking to the door. “I need to complete my education.” She paused in the doorway. “We need to find a mate for the bongo, and there’s an old lion in Kerrville we need to make space for. I can’t wait to start. This is going to be so much fun. We’ll be good partners.” She smiled at her grandmother.
Anne Driscoll smiled back with the half of her mouth that still worked. “We’ve proved it.”
Katherine hobbled down the hall toward the elevator. She couldn’t stop grinning. Tonight she and Ra would go home. Maybe she’d invite Sophie and Vic to come along. If it got cold enough, they would pile some of the mesquite in the fireplace. Then they’d sit around the fire and tell secrets.
ZERO AT THE BONE. Copyright © 1991 by Mary Willis Walker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010
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First Edition: December 1991
eISBN 9781466893436
First eBook edition: March 2015