A Woman of Fortune (21 page)

28

C
laire slipped inside the doors of Riscky's over an hour late. Immediately, the tantalizing barbeque aroma hit her nostrils and her stomach contracted. Had she even eaten today?

She pulled off her sunglasses and surveyed the noisy restaurant, with its raw wood beams and floor, until she spotted Max checking his watch. He looked up and she waved, then followed the hostess to his small table by the window.

“About time, Mom.”

She slid into the wooden bench and dropped her purse on the red and white checked oilcloth covering the table. A wire basket held plastic squirt bottles of ketchup and mustard and a set of disposable salt and pepper shakers. “I know. Sorry.”

“What'll you have, darlin'?” An aging waitress in tight jeans and a tighter tank top stood with pen poised on a small tablet.

“Uh, let's see.” Claire's eyes scanned the stained paper menu. “I'd like some brisket, please. And a Dr Pepper.”

“Dry or wet?”

Claire focused on the question, thankful to think about something as mundane as which rub she wanted on her beef. “Half and half, please.”

“Gotcha.” The waitress winked and scurried away in the direction of the kitchen.

Max took a drink of his root beer. “I can't believe somebody egged your car.” Scowling, he set the frosted mug down. “Did you report it?”

“Yes, the police took a report. But there's nothing they can do, really. We'll probably never know who did it.”

“Please be careful, Mom. There's a lot of nutcases out there. More than a few hate our family now.”

She nodded in agreement, trying not to dwell on the possible danger.

Max leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Mom, I'm scared for Dad. I think he's in some serious trouble.”

Claire looked into his thoughtful eyes and released a heavy sigh. “I know, Son.”

“The scoop in the newsroom is that the feds are pulling back the agreement. Strangely, Dad is pressing to amend instead of forcing their hands and making them prove him guilty at trial.”

“He is guilty, Max.” Her voice was barely audible above the music blaring from overhead speakers.

They grew silent. The waitress stepped up to the table and slid platters in front of them. Starving, Claire buried her fork, and her thoughts, in the thin slices of fire-roasted meat.

In her mind, she again examined the turn their lives had taken, this time from the perspective of the young man across the table from her.

How does a kid, only twenty years old, cope with the knowledge his father is a criminal? Claire's heart sank, knowing she was impotent to protect him. No doubt scars would result.

As a little boy, Max often viewed life proudly perched on his daddy's shoulders. Sadly, being Tuck Massey's son was no longer a badge of honor.

“Mom, the prosecutors are catching flak for not discovering the additional fraud, and heads are rolling at the US Attorney's
Office. Investor groups are threatening a public protest that the government failed to catch the commodities fraud scheme earlier.”

“No doubt your dad's sentence is in jeopardy. But let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. We'll likely know soon where all this will lead.” Claire feigned a quiet resignation, even though she felt like putting her hands over her ears and groaning.

She finished off the brisket and downed the remaining Dr Pepper. With a flicker of guilt, she reached across the table and covered her son's hand with her own. “Dad brought all this on himself. We can't save him from what he's done, the choices he alone made. All we can do now is move on from here.” She smiled at Max with genuine fondness. “Son, you'll meet a girl someday. Fall in love. Marry.” She patted his hand. “Together you'll build a life and all this turmoil will be left behind. You'll be happy.”

He looked unsure. “What about you?”

“I'll be okay.” Claire tried to assure him with a weak smile.

When they'd finished their meal, she reached for the sales ticket, then followed Max as he picked his way through the tables and headed for the front counter. She passed a guy with a scrubby chin wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. He lifted his beer bottle and eyed her with appreciation. She quickened her step.

At the cash register, she handed the clerk her credit card and focused her attention outside the window at the famed Stockyards cattle drive. Slow-moving longhorns sauntered down the street, followed by a cowboy in chaps and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, riding a chestnut-colored horse. A little boy on his father's shoulders clapped.

“Uh, ma'am?”

Claire glanced back at the clerk. “Yes?”

The man hesitated and smoothed his mustache before handing the sales ticket back. “I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm afraid your credit card has been declined.”

29

T
wo weeks later, word came from Ranger that further fractured Claire's heart, leaving her to wonder if she'd ever feel whole again.

She stood at the riverbank as the sky darkened and the first stars twinkled in the Texas sky.

“Everything will be okay,” Tuck said when they'd talked on the phone, although she did not understand how he could make so grand a statement. Clearly he underestimated how little control he had over the situation. He'd orchestrated a multimillion-dollar cattle fraud, and now they'd learned he'd committed securities fraud, manipulating the commodities market. Did he think he'd go unpunished?

Even so, when Ranger's call came confirming her worst fear, the bottom fell from Claire's world. This changed everything. No longer could she hold on to the hope Tuck would be released in two years, that they'd be able to pick up and go on, even if differently.

Now he'd also pled guilty to multiple counts of security violations, and this time the admission would cost him dearly.

Claire's first priority was her family—her children. She called and told them to come home, even if just for a brief visit. Garrett and Lainie both argued, but Claire wouldn't take no for an
answer. They needed each other right now. Better said, she needed them.

She stuffed the ache further down. Ranger said she had less than a week before the new deal was official and news would break. She didn't want her children hearing from anyone but her.

She turned and looked out over Legacy Ranch, the stables and outbuildings all dark now. Weeds grew at the helipad landing.

She closed her eyes, conjuring visions of the barbeque they'd held in the spring—the crowds and the laughing. She and Tuck had danced under these same stars. She could almost feel his arm at her back, see him gazing at her.

Claire slumped to the hard ground.

How could someone she loved wound her so deeply? Every lie, every betrayal sliced her soul.

She'd tried her best to stand by Tuck. Tried to believe in him. What was she to think now?

The evidence proved her husband had masterminded a scheme to purposely make money through fraudulent means. Unlike with the earlier charges, Tuck's back was not against the wall. These crimes were by choice, motivated by pure greed.

That revelation left Claire feeling sick inside.

She shook her head in disgust. How had she trusted so blindly?

She loved him. That was why.

No matter what he'd done, he was still her mate of nearly thirty years, the father of her children. Was there a way to vacate that history so anger could fully move in? She wasn't sure.

In the meantime, she'd have to survive financially and emotionally—especially emotionally. Right now, every breath hurt. Each time Tuck broke her heart, her chest cracked with deep, jagged crevices that gouged Claire's very core. She didn't know how to move on with her life—or if she even wanted to.

Claire looked to the star-filled sky and whispered a desperate prayer.

Please, God, help me
.

Lainie dropped her coffee mug to the table and glared. “What are you saying?”

Claire took a deep breath and looked at her children. “I'm saying your father consented to a twenty-year sentence with no possibility of parole.”

“Twenty years? That's—that's like he's never getting out.” Lainie's face contorted into a ball of fearful anger. “Why would he do that? Did he even think about us?”

“Do you think Dad had a choice?” Max asked, eyebrows lifted.

Garrett cleared his throat. “Yes, he had a choice. The first time he decided to phony the books and scam someone, he made his choice.”

Shaking, Claire held up her palm. “Look, what matters now is that we're still a family.” She looked around the table. “None of us can alter what your father did. All we can do is rise above his actions and move on. Together.”

“Cut it, Mom. Realistically, do you actually believe this family can just move on?” Garrett challenged, his voice an ax chopping at Claire's carefully constructed plan. For emphasis, her oldest son snapped his fingers. “Just like that?”

Max leaned back in his chair. “Oh, and this coming from the guy who just picks up and leaves.”

Garrett huffed. “What was I supposed to do? While you had your arms draped around another bar bimbo, I had my wife to consider—and my child.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, here it comes.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Color heated Max's cheeks. He shook his head. “This is where you make yourself out to be someone we all know you're not.”

Lainie looked across the table at her brothers, apprehension filling her eyes. She glanced at Claire as if to say “stop this.”

Claire's internal alarm was sounding as well. “Boys—”

“Mom, stay out of this,” Garrett said. “I want to hear what Little Boy Wonder has to say.”

She threw her napkin to the table in tears. “Knock it off. Both of you.”

“Little Boy Wonder—that's classic.” Max smirked. “Especially coming from a guy who says he
never
smoked pot,
never
had sex before he was married,
never
sold out his father to save his own neck.”

Garrett's face drained of color. He squinted his eyes but said nothing.

“Tell them,” Max said. “They all deserve to know why Dad isn't ever coming home again.”

Claire's gut squeezed tight. The conversation around her dinner table had become a car wreck. But like any onlooker, she couldn't turn away no matter how bloodied the victims.

Lainie voiced what she could not. “What . . . we deserve to know what?”

Garrett dropped his head. “I—I had to think about Marcy. And the baby.”

Claire's heart thumped inside her chest. “Garrett?”

Her mother burst into the dining room, a Yorkie in each hand. “What's all this yelling down here?”

“Nothing, Grandma,” Max said, never pulling his attention from his brother.

“Garrett?” Claire repeated. “Talk to me.”

Her son raised his head and met her gaze. When he spoke, his words were choked, his guilt-filled eyes glazed with tears.

“Please, Mom, don't hate me.”