Texas fury (7 page)

"Thad, this is the first time I've ever seen you at a loss for words," Maggie said. Thad grinned sheepishly.

"Sawyer told me the Beach Boys are playing, and Cole said Elton John and John Denver are singing. They must have been putting me on. They love to see me get excited and then prick my balloon," Maggie cried happily.

"We'll know soon enough, once everyone gets inside."

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going to stand here and gawk," Sawyer stage-whispered behind her hand.

"Me, too," Maggie whispered back. "You-all go inside, and Sawyer and I will report back later. In detail."

Billie's eyes warmed. How happy she was that Maggie and Sawyer were at last not only mother and daughter but friends as well.

"There are more Rolls-Royces, Ferraris, and Jags in the parking lot than in Saudi Arabia," Cole whispered in his

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mother's ear. "And I saw two sheiks talking to Mr. Hasegawa. Old friends, I believe."

"You look handsome, Cole. Run along now and join the penguin brigade. I appreciate the effort you put into that dinner jacket."

"For you, Mother, anything."

Maggie smiled. She knew he meant every word. It hadn't always been like that. There'd been some rough times, but they were mother and son now, just as she and Sawyer were mother and daughter. How blessed she was.

"This is better than an Academy Awards celebration," Sawyer giggled. "There're movie stars all over the place. I feel like I'm sixteen."

"I feel like I'm nineteen—I have to be older." Maggie laughed.

Mother and daughter stood off to the side, admiring the latest fashions as a parade of glamorous women swept through the wide central doors.

"This ballroom is at least three city blocks wide and long —what do you think, Mam?" Sawyer asked.

"It sounds right to me." Maggie's face turned suddenly serious. "How bad is the oil business, Sawyer? Are you in love with Adam Jarvis?" Nothing like blurting it all out at once, she thought.

"Now, where in the hell did that come from? It's bad, but we have a couple of options. And yes, I'm still in love with Adam. Look at that Fisher mink! Jeez, it's Tess Buckalew!"

"My lord! Lacey's wearing one, too. I thought you said the oil business was bad."

"Ivy looks like a poor relation," Sawyer announced. "I always liked that kid. She's got more on the ball than all the Buckalews put together. Coots looks rather dashing, don't you agree? My goodness, Mitzi Fanny is wearing a Russian sable. Bill looks elegant."

Maggie agreed. "I've seen enough," she said. "Let's go inside and gawk at the gowns and jewels."

Sawyer and Maggie made their way to the family table.

"Mam," Maggie whispered to Billie, "you won't believe —just look around. Galanos, Adolfo, and every major designer in the fashion industry. And Van Cleef, Tiffany, and Cartier! And we're all wearing Billie originals. I haven't seen one other Billie outfit. Too expensive, I guess."

"I don't know if that makes me happy or not," Billie said.

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"Be delirious, Mam," Maggie said. "We're unique."

"You wouldn't believe how long and hard I worked on your dress, Maggie. I couldn't get the right shade of tangerine to save my life. I wanted it just right for your hair and coloring. You are satisfied, aren't you, honey?"

"Mam, it's perfect. The Popsicle colors in Sawyer's dress amaze me. You have your Blink Pink in there, I see."

"It's my trademark now. You both look lovely. Professional models couldn't show off the dresses better than you two."

The crowds swelled till there was barely inching-around room in any direction. Sawyer craned her neck to see the banquet tables; she was hungry.

The grand ballroom was the size of a football field, and thanks to Cary Assante's efforts, it had been turned into a magical fairyland for the night's festivities.

Five-star chefs dressed in crisp white smocks and crisper starched hats stood behind their culinary masterpieces. The tables were forty feet long and draped in shimmering silver with garlands of red satin ribbon stretching from one end to the other. A three-foot-high ice sculpture—models of Assante Towers—rose up from the center of each table. The crystal chandeliers overhead shone down on the sculptures, bathing them in a red and silver glow, and winked down on the sterling silver serving dishes that held lobster, shrimp, filet mi-gnon, duckling, pheasant under glass, and fresh mushrooms from Japan. Baccarat crystal dishes held colorful vegetables decorated with sprigs of holly and feathery greenery. Cheeses flown in specially from Wisconsin sat on wheels of silver next to platters of beluga caviar. Dom Perignon trickled from hidden spouts in the ice sculptures. "Vintage fifty-nine," one of the chefs whispered to the governor as he waited for his glass to fill.

Waitresses wearing short scarlet swirling skirts trimmed in white fur, like the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, walked through the crowds carrying silver trays with crystal glasses of champagne. In their wake, waiters who could have doubled for the famous Chippendales, wearing skintight scarlet trousers and silver waistcoats, moved through the huge room on light feet, their upraised hands carrying trays of caviar and shrimp.

Before Sawyer asked her brother Cole to sweep her out onto the dance floor, she let her eyes travel once more around the room so she would never forget the most splendiferous

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sight she'd ever seen. She blinked and shook her head in awe as her eyes went to the four corners of the room, banked with tier after tier of poinsettias. She smiled at the revolving bandstand. Every inch of space that wasn't occupied by the orchestras was covered, with the brilliant red Christmas flowers. "Someday," she muttered to Cole, "I hope someone tells me how much this cost and how much the IRS absorbed. Come on, twinkle-toes, let's cut it!"

Cole smiled woodenly at Sawyer and dragged deeply on his cigarette. He rarely smoked, and when he did, it was out of nervousness or anger. He must be nervous, because he didn't feel angry. This was a hell of a place to soul-search.

He looked around the table at his family. He'd go to the wall for any one of them. He belonged; he was one of them; for now. He wondered, as he had many times before, what would happen if he simply picked up and left. The thought made his heart pound. When and if he decided to leave, the only person who would truly understand would be Riley. And possibly his grandmother Billie. She always said, don't marry the Coleman business, make a life for yourself outside the family. How in the living hell was he ever going to do that?

"Well?" said Sawyer, holding out her hand to him.

One of these days he was going to sit down and confide in Sawyer. Sawyer was modern, a woman of the eighties, as she was fond of telling everyone. Often over the years when things were bad for her or himself, they'd talked things out.

Sawyer had this thing about family, though. As far as she was concerned, the sun rose and set on the Colemans. Sawyer could be tough as rawhide and soft as marshmallow. Cole's stomach lurched when he remembered the family vigil at the hospital and how Sawyer almost died of a brain tumor.

You needed guts to be a Coleman, and he didn't have the requisite amount. Thank God his name was Tanner. In the end, that and that alone might make it easier for him to make the break.

Cole drained the last of his drink, which was more water than alcohol. He wished he had another.

"Come on, little brother, what say we boogie?" Sawyer said, finally getting up and throwing her arms about him.

"So you can torture me by stepping all over my feet! Everyone knows you have two left feet. How the hell you ever got to be the head of Coleman Aviation is beyond me," Cole grumbled good-naturedly.

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"I am the head of Coleman Aviation because I am the best goddamn aeronautical engineer ever to come down the pike. An M.B.A. and a Ph.D. in aerodynamics ain't nothing to sneeze at, little brother. You could say my instincts for business rival only our great-grandfather and grandfather's. And," she said loftily, "I and I alone, with only legal advice, managed to license Grandpa Moss's plane and keep the copyrights intact for you, you little shit. Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah, it does. Can I ask you something, Sawyer? And if I do, will you tell me the truth?"

Sawyer sat down; the dancing would have to wait. It was coming; she could feel it. She'd sensed Cole's tension as soon as she sat down next to him. "You bet," she said lightly.

"Have you ever thought about getting out? Moving on, doing something . .. unrelated to the family."

So that was it. The old identity thing that plagued them all from time to time. "At times. You know what a coward I am. I know what I have and I don't know what I'd step into out there. The unknown frightens me."

"Come off it," Cole growled.

"Seriously," Sawyer said gently. "Even when I knew I'd die if I didn't have the brain operation, I couldn't make myself agree to have it. I was so afraid. ... I didn't know. ... If it wasn't for you and Adam and Riley, and of course all the family, I never would have. . . You know what I'm trying to say."

"You're saying you'll run Coleman Aviation until you drop because you're a Coleman and it's expected. That sucks, Sawyer!"

Sawyer snorted. "When you put it like that, I guess it does. Look, if a white knight named Adam Jarvis showed up on my doorstep and offered me the proverbial vine-covered, picket-fenced cottage, I'd snap him up so fast both our heads would spin. Until that happens I am committed to this family and this company. But I could leave, as long as it was for my own happiness and survival. Did I help?" she asked anxiously.

Cole grinned. "Yeah, you always help." She hadn't asked him any pointed questions; Sawyer never did.

"On your feet, woman! Let's show these people the two Coleman illegitimate bastard children know how to dance!" Cole quipped.

"I'm with you, little brother," Sawyer laughed. Her hand

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was on Cole's shoulder as he fought his way to the crowded dance floor.

As brother and sister edged their way off the dance floor, Cole grabbed Ivy Buckalew and dragged her back among the dancers just as the band started to play "The Shadow of Your Smile."

"You having a good time?" Cole asked. Hmmmnn, Ivy looked good. She smelled sweet and clean. He drew her closer, but not until she answered him.

"No. I wish I was home."

"You and me both. Unfortunately, this is one of those things that are a must."

"Maybe for you, but not for me. This isn't my ... I don't fit... you know..."

"Yeah, I do know," Cole said softly. Gently he edged her away from him. He looked into her eyes and was stunned at how pretty Ivy was. Christ, she'd grown up and he hadn't even noticed. "Ivy, sometimes wanting something isn't enough. Sometimes you have to go out there and slug your way through the crap to get what you want."

"If you're talking about what I think you're talking about, I'm the first one to admit I'm no match for..." Ivy jerked her head in her sister's direction.

"Look at me, Ivy. Do you want to be like that?"

"A little," Ivy admitted miserably.

"Trust me, you don't. You're real, kid. You hang in there and before you know it, Sir Galahad over there is going to wake up and start paying attention. Time will do it, Ivy. The white knight over there," Cole said, inclining his head in Riley's direction, "still thinks of you as one of the guys. We've all been friends for so long, it takes us a little while to notice the changes in one another." He chuckled when he said, "Remember how you could always climb the trees fastest, get the worm on the hook quicker, hit the softball a real whack for a girl, not to mention how you outbreaststroked him in the swim meet? If I remember correctly, your backhand was a smidgen better than his, and how many times did you get a hole in one? On top of that, each time you bested him, you clapped him on the back so hard he almost fell over. I'm the first one to admit I know nothing about women, but I do know about guys. You didn't let him win, ever, Ivy. If you want the truth, I think you intimidate him."

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"But ... I just did it to ... so he would notice me. . .. Jeez, he writes such great letters,you know, real buddy-buddy stuff. He never gave a hint of. . . how he felt," Ivy said miserably.

"Oh, he noticed, all right," Cole drawled. "He'd rather have a stick in the eye than let you know how he feels about your prowess."

Ivy stepped back from Cole a little. "I don't know how to be a limp doll, and I'm not a clinging vine. I am what I am. So what if I'm better at something than he is?" She laughed, a sound of pure mirth. "God, how I hated those slimy little worms. I'll tell you what, I won't clap him on the back anymore. That's the only concession I'll make, not that it matters anyway: He's so tight with Lacey, he doesn't know I'm alive."

"Ivy, trust me when I tell you he knows. He knows," Cole said soothingly as he swept her across the dance floor.

When the dance was over, Ivy slipped away. Cole watched her till she was out of sight. When he turned, he was staring directly at Lacey. He nodded curtly and headed back to the family table.

Lacey Buckalew was history.

"I thought you always said you were graceful," Cole complained to Sawyer as he joined her at the table. "All you did was step on my toes."

"That wasn't me, and I am graceful. Ask Riley. He just got sandwiched into a corner over there with Lacey and can't get out. By the way," she said, "I saw Lacey give you a look that means she'd like to get you onto the dance floor. It isn't any of my business, but I don't think Riley—"

"You didn't see me dance with her, did you?"

"Touchy, aren't we?" Sawyer kidded. At the look on Cole's face, she drew back. "I'm sorry, Cole. It's just that Riley is so ... so sensitive. You and Lacey had a thing going for several years. I thought... we all thought you were going to make it permanent. I am out of line. Forget I said anything."

"She wanted to get married, I didn't," Cole growled. It was almost a relief to talk about it even though he was giving Sawyer, out of habit, a hard time.