Elm Creek Quilts [10] The Quilter's Homecoming (25 page)

“You live where?”

“The Arboles Valley.”

“Where the hell is that?”

“It’s about forty-five miles north of Los Angeles. It’s where Safari World—”

“Oh, right, right. George Hanneman’s wild animal farm. Great fellow. You’re really out in the sticks, aren’t you?”

Elizabeth ignored that. “I thought that perhaps if you came out to Safari World, we could arrange to meet—”

“Hold on, sister. As much as I hate to turn down a meeting with a pretty blonde, I’m not producing anything that would take me out to Safari World any time soon. Besides, we always do our casting here in the office, not on location.”

“I see, but if you—”

“If you want to be a star, you have to go where the action is. Why don’t you ditch the stiff and come out to Hollywood?”

“Ditch the—”

“The husband. Lose the husband. He’s holding you back, doll.”

“I couldn’t leave my husband,” said Elizabeth. “I love him.”

“That’s too bad. If you ever change your mind—”

“It’s not something I can change my mind about. You either love someone or you don’t, and I do.”

“If you say so, sister. You don’t need to bite my head off. I’m not the one calling on the sly.”

“Thanks anyway, Mr. Higgins. Good afternoon.” Elizabeth hung up the phone. How dare he suggest she leave her husband? How dare he imply that she was so fickle that she would cast Henry aside and dash off to Hollywood on his word alone? Not that she would leave Henry even for an iron-clad contract and a guaranteed starring role as Rudolph Valentino’s leading lady, but still. What did he take her for?

She could never work for Mr. Higgins, that much was obvious. Her only hope now was to meet a director through Safari World. Perhaps if she pleased Caroline Hanneman and the wranglers by finding them the perfect horses for their show, they would introduce her to some of their Hollywood friends. She would not count herself out yet.

Mrs. Diegel peered at her inquiringly as she stormed out of the office. “Bad news?”

“Not bad, exactly, just disappointing. It wasn’t even worth the price of the call.”

“Good thing you’re not paying for it, then.” Mrs. Diegel glanced toward the bar as a burst of laughter floated through the open doorway. “Such carrying on in the middle of the day when honest folk are working. Still, can’t complain, as long as they keep buying her ginger ales. Goodness knows how she’s doctoring it up. No one likes ginger ale that much.”

Elizabeth was lost. “Who are you talking about?”

“A woman from back east who came up from Los Angeles last night.” Mrs. Diegel shook her head in amused disapproval. “I didn’t like the look of her at first. She’s not the sort of young lady I usually welcome into my hotel. I thought she was searching for gentlemen callers of the paying kind, if you get my meaning. But she hasn’t gone upstairs with a man on her arm, so I suppose she’s harmless. It would be bad for business, you know. These days most of my guests are married men looking for lots in the new developments. Their wives would put a stop to any deal if they thought we encouraged licentious behavior in the Arboles Valley, and that’s money out of my pocket.”

“You mean you get a cut from the real estate agents?”

Mrs. Diegel winced as if she had said too much. “To steer customers their way, yes. Don’t say anything. They each think I’m working for them alone, to praise their development and criticize their competitors.’ I’m not doing any harm. All I do is figure out which way the customer is leaning and then prod them along in that direction.”

“It’s just business,” Elizabeth finished for her, although something about it seemed vaguely improper.

“You’re catching on.” Mrs. Diegel shook her head at another roar of laughter. “Funny, she didn’t seem especially witty to me, especially the way she kept going on about that Triumph Ranch, but she sure knows how to entertain.”

Elizabeth’s heart thumped. “What?”

“She didn’t strike me as very witty. You know the type—scandalously short skirt, cigarette holder, bobbed hair—no offense to you, of course—but maybe not a lot going on upstairs.”

“No, I mean—you said she was talking about a place called Triumph Ranch?”

“Oh, yes. She insists it’s a prosperous cattle ranch here in the Arboles Valley. When I told her I had never heard of it, she looked at me as if I must not be very bright or I don’t get out much. She has some nerve. I know the name of every ranch in this valley, and if I haven’t heard of it, it isn’t here.” Mrs. Diegel frowned thoughtfully. “Carlos and Rosa’s great-grandparents called their land El Rancho Triunfo before they sold to the Jorgensen family, but it hasn’t been known by that name for decades. If that’s what this girl is looking for, why didn’t she simply ask for the Jorgensen farm?”

“Oh, no.” Even through her surprise Elizabeth felt the prickling of conscience. She and Henry had only thought of themselves when they decided not to go to the authorities to report how they had been swindled. Why had it not occurred to them that the con man who had sold Triumph Ranch to the Nelsons and two others before them would stop there?

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. Diegel asked.

“I think your new guest has been deceived by a con man,” said Elizabeth, steeling herself. Someone had to tell this unfortunate woman the truth, and it would be better to hear it from a sympathetic fellow victim than John Barclay, who had been more concerned with the inconvenience to himself than the Nelsons’ misfortune when they tried to pick up the deed of trust at the land office.

Before Mrs. Diegel could press her for more details, Elizabeth entered the barroom.

There, sitting at the bar, surrounded by a cluster of admiring men, was a slender, fashionably dressed young woman wearing dark red lipstick and a cloche hat on her sleek black bob. She glanced toward the doorway and her face lit up in recognition.

“Hiya, kid,” Mae called to her. “How’s tricks?”

“Mae,” Elizabeth managed to say. “What—you’re—”

“Yeah, I’m happy to see you, too.” Mae slipped gracefully from her bar stool and crossed the room. The men’s eyes followed her swaying hips appreciatively. Elizabeth stood frozen just inside the doorway as Mae gave her air kisses on both cheeks. “Where have you been hiding? Not even the hotel keeper knows about this ranch of yours, and there can’t be
that
many ranches for her to keep straight.”

Elizabeth forced a shaky smile. “Things didn’t turn out as we had planned. What—what are you doing here?”

“I came to visit you and that handsome husband of yours, of course.” Mae linked her arm through Elizabeth’s and steered her from the barroom. “I’ve been cooped up in this hotel long enough. Let’s go to your place.”

Mrs. Diegel watched them cross the lobby together, but with an innkeeper’s practiced discretion, she pretended to find nothing unusual in the sight of a stylish flapper carrying on as if she were the stunned farm wife’s dearest friend. Outside, at the sight of Mae, Lars’s stoic mask slipped and he shot Elizabeth a look of astonishment.

“Why, Henry,” Mae said with mock sternness when Elizabeth failed to introduce them. “Ranch life has not been kind to you.”

“Mae, this is Lars Jorgensen,” Elizabeth quickly said. “Lars, this is Mae. We met on the train coming west.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Mae gave Lars a winning smile and gracefully extended a hand.

Lars shook it somewhat awkwardly and helped her into the front seat of the car while Elizabeth climbed into the back. As they drove away from the hotel, Mae held up the burden of conversation, asking questions about the town with a curiosity that would have been charming in other circumstances, admiring the scenic beauty of the landscape, marveling at the loveliness of the weather. Elizabeth responded as well as she could, but all the while her thoughts were racing. This could not possibly be a simple social call. When they had parted with Mae in St. Louis, she had said she would return to New York. What was she doing in California, and in a place as remote as the Arboles Valley?

What would Henry say?

All too soon and not soon enough, the yellow farmhouse came into view. “This is quite a place you have here,” said Mae admiringly.

“Thank you,” said Lars, although Elizabeth knew the remark had been directed at her. Mae glanced at Lars, eyebrows arched in mild surprise, but she said nothing.

“Henry and I have our own place about a half mile south,” said Elizabeth quickly. “Lars, I don’t think Mae can make that walk in those shoes. Would you mind dropping us off there?”

Lars shrugged and agreed. When the cabin came into sight, Mae said nothing until the car came to a stop a few yards away. Then she laughed in astonishment. “This is the place?”

Elizabeth nodded. “This is home.”

“And the cattle?” Mae asked. “They’re hiding out back, I guess?”

“There are no cattle.” Elizabeth could not bear to look Lars’s way as she climbed out of the car, clutching the mail. “Come on. I’ll take you inside.”

“It’s…cozy. A little rustic, but nice,” said Mae consolingly as she picked her way across the dusty yard and up the front stairs. “I think I’ll be staying at the hotel tonight, though.”

Elizabeth showed Mae inside, leaving the letters on the mantel. “Please make yourself at home. There’s bread in the pantry and you can get fresh water from the pump at the kitchen sink. I’m sorry I can’t stay. I have to get back to work.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Mae settled herself into the best of the chairs. “I’ll just put my feet up and relax, you know, take in the fresh country air.”

“I’ll be back by seven,” Elizabeth promised. “I’m sorry to be such a poor hostess. I’ll bring you supper.”

When Mae cheerfully waved off her apologies, Elizabeth gave her a quick smile and hurried outside to the car. “Don’t ask,” she told Lars as she climbed in and slammed the door.

“I wasn’t going to,” he replied.

They drove the short distance back to the garage in silence. Once there, Elizabeth said, “Mae will need a ride back to the hotel this evening. May I borrow the car?”

“That’s all right. I’ll take her.”

“That’s kind of you, but I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no trouble.”

Grateful, Elizabeth thanked him and hurried into the kitchen. Later, when Henry and the other men came inside for supper, Elizabeth took him aside for a moment. “We have company back at the cabin.”

Henry blanched. “Who?”

“Mae. From the train.”

Relief mingled with surprise in Henry’s expression. “I thought you were going to say it was someone from home.” Then surprise won out. “Mae? Here? What does she want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is Peter with her?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “She hasn’t spoken a word about him. I assume he’s in prison.”

“She’s not coming up to the house for supper, is she?”

“I hadn’t thought to invite her.” How could she extend an invitation without seeking Mrs. Jorgensen’s permission first? “I promised to bring her something to eat.”

“Get back to the cabin as soon as you can and keep an eye on her. I’ll try to find some excuse to come home early. The last thing we need is for her to rob us blind.”

Elizabeth knew he was thinking of their carefully saved wages, hidden in a coffee can in the chimney. “If she wanted to rob someone, I think she would have chosen a more affluent victim.”

“She and Peter aren’t exactly pillars of the community. I don’t think she’d pass up an opportunity to make a fast buck.”

Elizabeth could not defend Mae, so she merely nodded and hurried to the kitchen to begin serving dinner. Mae had been kind to her on the train, but obviously she wanted something from the Nelsons or she would not have come. If she
had
intended to rob them, she had surely changed her mind when she discovered that they were not wealthy ranch owners after all.

Throughout the meal, Elizabeth waited for Lars to mention the unexpected guest he had escorted back from the Grand Union Hotel, but he said nothing. The longer she knew him, the more she realized that he knew how to keep a secret. Afterward, as she cleared the table, she wrapped two pieces of fried chicken and several biscuits in a clean cloth and hid them in the pantry. When Mrs. Jorgensen dismissed her for the evening, she quickly retrieved the bundle and raced back to the cabin.

There she discovered Mae had built a fire on the hearth and was sitting beside it in a rocking chair reading Elizabeth’s mail. Not only the new letters she had left on the mantel, but all of the letters from home she kept tied with a ribbon in her trunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Elizabeth exclaimed, crossing the room and snatching up the letters.

“Don’t be sore,” said Mae. “I got bored. There’s not a lot of entertainment around here. Say, what kind of scam are you running on the folks back home?”

“It’s not a scam.” Elizabeth returned the letters to the trunk and fastened the latch firmly.

“They seem to believe you and Henry are big-time cattle ranchers. Come to think of it, that’s what you told Peter and me. What happened?”

Elizabeth hated to admit the truth, but that was preferable to being thought of as a con artist. “We aren’t scamming anyone. We’re the ones who were cheated. It was all a lie. Henry gave his life savings for a handful of worthless papers. Now we work for the real owners of the property—but they don’t know the truth about us, so please don’t tell them.”