Authors: Fern Michaels
Home Free (3 page)
“It's all going to work out, Yoko. Trust us, okay?”
Yoko's head bobbed up and down, but fresh tears trailed down her cheeks.
Chapter 2
J
ack Emery leaned back and sighed. “I'm stuffed. We should have just gone with the Chinese instead of doubling up on the Italian. I guess the good thing is, you're going to be eating all of this food for the rest of the week, unless Kathryn cooks when she comes over.”
ack Emery leaned back and sighed. “I'm stuffed. We should have just gone with the Chinese instead of doubling up on the Italian. I guess the good thing is, you're going to be eating all of this food for the rest of the week, unless Kathryn cooks when she comes over.”
“Kathryn does not cook. She's on the road and won't be back till the weekend. You're right, though. One or the other would have been enough. C'mon, we've danced around this long enough. What are we going to do about Harry?”
At that very moment, the doorbell decided to ring. Bert's eyebrows shot upward as he walked through the living room to the foyer and front door. “It's Maggie!” he shouted to Jack. “Bet she couldn't get through the streets of Georgetown, either. That takes care of what to do with all this food. Set another place, Jack!”
Bert opened the door with a flourish and bowed low. “Welcome to my abode, my soaking wet friend.”
“Eat me,” Maggie snapped as she sloshed her way into Bert's house. “I need some dry clothes and I am not fussy. Oh, food. Warm some up for me.”
“Hello to you, too, Miss Cranky Curmudgeon,” Jack said.
“Can you turn up the heat, Jack? I'm freezing,” Maggie said as she followed Bert to the bathroom and waited while he brought her a pile of clothes.
“Absolutely I can turn up the heat. I'm here to serve you, Miss EIC of the
Post.
” Not for the world would Jack ever admit he was glad to see Maggie. Three heads, or even four if one counted Yoko, were better than one.
Post.
” Not for the world would Jack ever admit he was glad to see Maggie. Three heads, or even four if one counted Yoko, were better than one.
Jack slammed the door of the microwave oven and pressed the buttons that would warm up all the leftover food. He knew it would all be gone by the end of the evening and Bert would be back to eating out for the rest of the week.
Maggie walked into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of Bert's sweats, which were only a dozen sizes too big and made her look like something out of a traveling circus. The arms and legs were rolled up six or seven times, and they still hung like a sack on her slim frame. “Ah, Chinese and Italian, my two favorites.” She crunched down on a garlic stick and sighed happily. “Everything is flooded. Can I sleep on your couch? Did you put my clothes in the dryer? Paper plates, plastic silverware. How gross,” Maggie said as she dived into the food Jack had put in front of her.
“Can you eat and listen while we talk?” Bert asked.
Maggie nodded.
Both men rattled on, one or the other jostling the other's memory with something forgotten or left unsaid.
“You getting all of this?” Jack asked.
Maggie nodded again as she stuffed the last of a shrimp roll into her mouth.
“Yoko isn't going to be any help,” Bert said. “You got any ideas?”
Maggie swallowed hard and reached for her tea. “With Harry? You have to be kidding. You've already said that the guy doesn't move. Are you sure he isn't dead?” Reaching for a wonton, she crammed it into her mouth.
Jack grimaced. “Now, why didn't we think of that? He's not dead, but we didn't really check. We think he's just sleeping. That's all he does is sleep. For hours and hours and hours. And his sect, his clan, or whatever you call his people, the ones who set this all up, are charging a fortune for his services. From what Yoko said, you can't piss them off. I think that means if you piss them off, they kill you.”
Maggie burped and apologized. “Aren't you being overly melodramatic? I think your original idea of calling in the vigilantes is a good one. Did you run it by any of the girls?”
“Not yet,” Bert said. “Kathryn's on the road, for one thing. She'll be back by the weekend.”
“There's no real urgency, right? Like a few more days isn't going to matter, is it? Time enough to talk to everyone and make a plan. Think about this. Can we find a way to maybe have someone else hire that particular master for even more money? Then Harry would have to be assigned a new master, hopefully one who is more . . . alive and with it.”
“You mean a bogus trainee?” Jack asked, hope written all over his face.
“Exactly,” Maggie said as she commenced her attack on the plate of baked ziti.
“You know what, Maggie? I think you just earned all that food you've been scarfing down. That just might work. The trainee would have to be legitimate, however, and he will have to have registered for the trials and do whatever it is you have to do to qualify.”
“Let Charles handle that end of it. He's good with stuff like that. Or his people are. Any other problems you want solved before I turn in for the night?”
“How about some personal chitchat?” Jack asked craftily.
“Is that your way of asking about me and Ted?”
“Now that you put it like that, yeah. What's up with the two of you?”
“Nothing is up with the two of us. Ted is out there playing the field. I can't keep track of his bimbos. I'm sorry, that was unkind. He's on female number seven according to Espinosa. Not that I'm counting. By the way, I met someone I find very interesting. He's a money manager of some kind, originally from Maryland. He came by the paper one day, and I met him. We've had dinner twice. No, we have not had sex. Don't go there, either one of you. He's a tad older than I am, and that's what I find interesting. I'm actually thinking of bringing him to Annie's Thanksgiving dinner. I cannot tell you how interesting he finds me. He says I make him laugh. He says I am down to earth and cute as a newborn speckled pup. Go ahead, say it, and I'll kick both your asses all the way to the Canadian border. I'm not cleaning up this mess, either. Please try to be quiet since I'm sleeping on the couch. You do have a spare toothbrush, don't you, Bert? I really don't want to have to use yours. I get up at five, so set the coffeepot so I don't have to wait. I hate waiting for coffee. I like it ready to pour as soon as I reach the kitchen.”
Bert and Jack both clamped their lips shut.
Maggie trotted off, the swinging door leading to and from the kitchen closing with a soft swoosh.
“I think that went rather well, don't you, Jack?” Bert whispered nervously, his eyes on the swinging kitchen door.
“Make sure you check your toothbrush. No telling where those lips and teeth have been,” Jack whispered in return. “Since this is your house, you can do the cleanup. Night, Bert.”
Thirty-six hours later, a horde of Asians descended on Harry Wong's dojo. A titillating ceremony ensued before Master Choy was carried from the premises on a red velvet chair that was trimmed in gold. There was a lot of bowing and scraping. The ancient one slept through the whole ceremony, to everyone's delight. Yoko's eyes sparkled with relief. Jack and Bert just grinned from ear to ear, while Harry stood mesmerized as his head bobbed up and down as he listened to his new master, who was babbling in a language only Yoko understood.
“What the hell is he saying?” Jack asked uneasily.
“You want the short or the long version?” Yoko giggled.
Miffed, Jack said, “The short one will do.”
“He said, âLet's get you ready so you can kick some ass.' Then he went to sleep.”
“Now, that's my kind of master. How old is this one?”
“Eighty-six! He trained the past three winners. He says Harry will be his fourth winner. Then he will retire.”
“Eighty-six, huh? He looks to be . . . ah . . . at least seventy-nine,” Bert said. He looked over at Jack and hissed, “What happened to Charles's taking care of this?”
Jack's eyes rolled back in his head. “Harry said this guy was just waiting in the wings and beat out Charles's guy.”
Yoko giggled. “This man could wipe up the floor with you, Jack, and Harry in less than five minutes. I can ask for a demonstration if you like. But first we have to wait for him to wake up.”
Bert and Jack ran to their respective classrooms. Yoko continued to giggle as she got ready to leave for the nursery. Sometimes things just worked out right. She offered up a little prayer of thanks before skipping her way out to her car. Inside, the engine running, she started to cry.
It was five o'clock when Jack and Bert finished up with their classes for the day. Once in a while they had a light day, and today had been one of them. Both were surprised when they looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway. He looked uneasy as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say. When they wouldn't or couldn't surface, Harry just shrugged.
Jack took the initiative. “We peeked in a while ago and it looked to us like you got yourself a winner this time around. The guy was sleeping just like your first master. That's a real shame that Master Choy had to leave. We know how broken up you were over that. But you know what, Harry? That, too, shall pass.”
“That's the biggest crock of shit I ever heard come out of your mouth, Jack Emery. Look, I . . . what I mean is . . . listen . . .”
“It's just one lousy word, Harry. Thanks. There, I said it for you. You wanna kiss and make up now or later?”
Harry advanced across the room, his bare feet slapping on the tile floor. Jack winced, and Bert tried to wiggle behind Jack. Harry reached for Jack's shirt and had him in a bear hug before Jack could blink. He kissed him so hard on both cheeks, Jack thought his back molars were going to come loose. Harry released him and did the same thing to Bert. Then he backed up a step and bowed low. He turned without another word and slapped his way back to the door. “You . . . you rascals. I love you guys!” And then he was gone.
“Holy shit!” Jack said in a strangled voice. “I guess he didn't notice that his new master was sleeping.”
“That's one for the old memory books. Jesus, Jack, Harry
kissed
us. And, he bowed to us.”
kissed
us. And, he bowed to us.”
“Yeah.” Jack grinned. “Yeah, he did.”
Back at Pinewood, Charles and Myra's home in Virginia, Charles smiled at the success of his little mission, which was no more than a blip on his computer screen. He did a double take when he read Jack's incoming text. He swore then, something he rarely, if ever, did. For all intents and purposes, Harry Wong was destined to work with sleepers. With nothing more pressing on his agenda, he made his way out of the catacombs to the main floor of the old farmhouse, where Myra and Annie were having coffee in the kitchen. Both women clapped their hands in approval when Charles reported the success, then the downfall of the mini-mission. “Harry is going to have to make it on his own, I'm afraid to say. There's nothing more I can do.”
“Sometimes, dear, the best-laid plans simply don't work. It's a culture you cannot be expected to understand. You did your best. Come, join us for coffee, Charles. Annie and I are planning her Thanksgiving menu. Is there anything in particular you would like? This year, dear, you will just be a guest and not have to worry about getting everything hot to the table at one time.”
“Plum pudding is a must. I can make it if you like. One has to make it just right, or it turns out to be just another pudding. I have my mum's recipe.”
“That would be wonderful, as I've never made plum pudding before,” Annie said.
“She's never made a turkey, either,” Myra jabbed, to Annie's dismay.
“Well, I never knew how to pole dance, either, but I managed to master that little feat,” Annie snapped. “How hard can making a turkey be if you follow the directions?”
“I'm sure you'll do just fine. If you find yourself in need of my services, feel free to call on me. I seem to have a little too much leisure time these days. I think I'll leave you ladies to your menu planning and take the dogs for a run. If you need me for anything, just beep me.” He leaned over and kissed Myra on the cheek before he whistled for the dogs, who came on the run.
“Are you going to get a dog or maybe a cat, Annie, when you move into your new farmhouse?”
“I don't know, Myra. I'm going to be doing some traveling, and it isn't fair to the animal. I'd love to have a whole houseful like you do, but that means I have to put down serious roots. I don't know if I'm ready for that just yet.”
“Sooner or later, Annie, you're going to have to stop running. We can't undo the past. We both know that. We're in the here and now, and if you keep running, it will always be like this. I so want to see you happy. We're in our twilight years. We deserve happiness.”
Annie bookmarked the page she had been looking at in one of Myra's cookbooks. “Are you happy, Myra?”
Myra tapped the side of her coffee cup with her nails. “We've had this talk before, Annie. I've come to terms with the hand fate has dealt me. I'm content. If my daughter had lived, and I had grandchildren, I would be deliriously happy. But that can never be, and I have accepted it. I married Charles because I love him, and I should have done it years ago. There isn't much left for me to aspire to is the way I see it at the moment. We have the girls in our lives, their significant others or their husbands, whatever the case may be. We've had fame, and you and I have our fortunes, which both of us share where it needs to be shared. And I now have those wonderful dogs, who make me laugh and love me unconditionally. So, let's just say I am as happy as my circumstances will allow.”
Other books
Mummy Told Me Not to Tell by Cathy Glass
Bad Apple by Wren Michaels
On the Edge by Avance, V.E.
The Green Lama: Scions (The Green Lama Legacy Book 1) by Adam Lance Garcia
Foolish Notions by Whittier, Aris
Promise by Dani Wyatt
Electus (Regnum Series Book 1) by K.M. Link
Falling Free: What happens in Vegas... (The Fall Series) by Rossi, Annica
No Gun Intended by Zoe Burke
A Covenant with Death by Stephen Becker