Part 32 (1/2)
He slipped on his sungla.s.ses and told her she had thirty seconds to move her d.a.m.n car.
Francesca's vast, walk-in closet was one of Dallie's favorite places, maybe because it reflected so many of his wife's contradictions. The closet was both luxurious and homey, chaotic and well organized. It smelled of sweet spice. It testified to overindulgence and rock solid practicality. What the closet didn't show was her grit, her generosity, or her loyalty to the people she loved.
”It's never going to work, Francie,” he said as he stood in the doorway watching her pull a particularly fetching lace bra from one of the closet's built-in drawers.
”Rubbish. Of course it will.” She shoved the bra back in the drawer as if it had personally offended her. That was all right with him because it left her standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of low-cut purplish lace panties. Whoever said a woman in her fifties couldn't be s.e.xy hadn't seen Francesca Serritella Day Beaudine naked. Which he had. Many times. Including not half an hour ago when they'd been tangled up in their unmade bed.
She pulled out another bra that looked pretty much the same as the last one. ”I had to do something, Dallie. He's wasting away.”
”He's not wasting away. He's rea.s.sessing. Even when he was a kid, he liked taking his time to think things over.”
”Rubbish.” Another bra met with her displeasure. ”He's had over a month. That's long enough.”
The first time he'd seen Francie, she'd been stompin' down the side of a Texas highway, dressed like a southern belle, mad as h.e.l.l, and determined to hitch a ride with him and Skeet. It had turned out to be the luckiest day of his life. Still, he didn't like letting her get too far ahead of him, and he pretended to inspect a nick on the doorjamb. ”What did Lady Emma have to say about your little plan?”
Francie's sudden fascination with a bright red bra that didn't come close to matching her panties told him she hadn't mentioned her plan to Lady Emma. She slipped on the bra. ”Did I tell you Emma is trying to talk Kenny into renting an rv and driving around the country with the children for a few months? Homeschooling them while they're on the road.”
”I don't believe you did,” he replied. ”Just like I don't believe you told her you were going to set up an e-mail account in Meg's name and make the winning bid in that stupid-a.s.s contest. You knew she'd try to talk you out of it.”
She pulled a dress the same color as her eyes from a hanger. ”Emma can be overly cautious.”
”Bull. Lady Emma is the only rational person in this town, and I'm including you, me, and our son.”
”I resent that. I have a great deal of common sense.”
”When it comes to business.”
She turned her back to him so he could pull up her zipper. ”All right, then ... You You have a great deal of common sense.” have a great deal of common sense.”
He brushed the hair away from the nape of her neck and kissed the soft skin beneath. ”Not when it comes to my wife. That got wiped out the day I picked you up on that highway.”
She turned and gazed up at him, her lips parting, her eyes going all dewy. He could drown in those eyes. And, d.a.m.n it, she knew that. ”Stop trying to distract me.”
”Please, Dallie ... I need your support. You know how I feel about Meg.”
”No, I don't.” He zipped the dress. ”Three months ago you hated her. In case you've forgotten, you tried to drive her out of town, and when that didn't work, you did your best to humiliate her by making her wait on all your friends.”
”Not my finest hour.” She wrinkled her nose, then grew thoughtful. ”She was magnificent, Dallie. You should have seen her. She didn't bend an inch. Meg is ... She's rather splendid.”
”Yeah, well, you thought Lucy was rah-ther splendid, too, and look how that turned out.”
”Lucy is wonderful. But not for Ted. They're too much alike. I'm surprised we didn't see that as clearly as Meg did. Right from the beginning, she's fit in here in ways Lucy could never quite manage.”
”Because Lucy's too levelheaded. And we both know that 'fitting in' isn't exactly a compliment when you're talking about Wynette.”
”But when we're talking about our son, it's essential.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe Ted was in love with Meg. Dallie had thought so, but then he'd changed his mind when Ted had let her go as easily as he'd let Lucy go. Francie seemed sure, but she wanted grandbabies so much that she wasn't objective. ”You should have just given the library committee the money right from the beginning,” he said.
”You and I talked about that.”
”I know.” Experience had taught them that a few families, no matter how well off, couldn't support a town. They'd learned to pick their causes, and this year, the expansion of the free clinic had won out over the library repairs.
”It's only money,” said the woman who'd once lived on a jar of peanut b.u.t.ter and slept on the couch of a five-hundred-watt radio station in the middle of nowhere. ”I don't really need a new winter wardrobe. What I need is to have our son back.”
”He hasn't gone anywhere.”
”Don't pretend not to understand. More than losing the golf resort is bothering Ted.”
”We don't know that for sure, since he won't talk to any of us about it. Even Lady Emma can't get him to open up. And forget about Torie. He's been dodging her for weeks.”
”He's a private person.”
”Exactly. And when he discovers what you've done, you're on your own, because I'm going to be conveniently out of town.”
”I'm willing to take that risk,” she said.
It wasn't the first risk she'd taken for their son, and since it was easier to kiss her than argue, he gave up.
Francesca had an immediate problem. The committee had used the e-mail address Francesca had established in Meg's name to notify her she'd won, which left Francesca with the job of locating her to deliver the news. But since Meg seemed to have disappeared, Francesca was forced to contact the Korandas.
She'd interviewed Jake twice in the past fifteen years, something of a record, given his obsession with privacy. His reticence made him a difficult interview subject, but off camera, he had a quick sense of humor and was easy to talk to. She didn't know his wife as well, but Fleur Koranda had a reputation for being tough, smart, and completely ethical. Unfortunately, the Korandas' brief, awkward visit to Wynette hadn't given either Francesca or Dallie a chance to deepen their acquaintance.
Fleur was cordial, but guarded, when Francesca phoned her office. Francesca patched together a cobbled version of something approximating the truth, leaving out only a few inconvenient details, such as her part in all this. She spoke of her admiration for Meg and her conviction that Meg and Ted cared deeply about each other.
”I'm absolutely certain, Fleur, that spending a weekend together in San Francisco will give them the chance they need to reconnect and repair their relations.h.i.+p.”
Fleur was no fool, and she zeroed in on the obvious. ”Meg doesn't have nearly enough money to have placed that bid.”
”Which makes this situation all the more tantalizing, doesn't it?”
A short pause followed. Finally, Fleur said, ”You think Ted is responsible?”
Francesca wouldn't lie, but neither did she intend to confess what she'd done. ”There's been a lot of speculation in town about that. You can't imagine the theories I've heard.” She hurried on. ”I won't pressure you for Meg's telephone number ...” She paused, hoping Fleur would volunteer to hand it over. When she didn't, she pressed on. ”Let's do this. I'll make sure the itinerary for the weekend is sent directly to you, along with Meg's round-trip plane ticket from L.A. to San Francisco. The committee had planned on using a private jet to fly them both from Wynette, but given the circ.u.mstances, this seems like a better solution. Do you agree?”
She held her breath, but instead of answering, Fleur said, ”Tell me about your son.”
Francesca leaned back in her chair and gazed at the snapshot of Teddy she'd taken when he was nine. Head too big for his small, skinny body. Pants belted too high on his waist. The too-serious expression on his face at odds with his worn T-s.h.i.+rt, which announced born to raise h.e.l.l.
She picked up the photo. ”The day Meg left Wynette, she went to our local hangout and told everyone that Ted's not perfect.” Her eyes filled with tears she didn't try to blink away. ”I disagree.”
Fleur sat at her desk replaying her conversation with Francesca Beaudine, but it was hard to think clearly when her only daughter was in so much pain. Not that Meg would admit anything was wrong. The time she'd spent in Texas had both toughened and matured her, leaving her with an unfamiliar reserve Fleur still hadn't adjusted to. But even though Meg had made it clear that the subject of Ted Beaudine was off-limits, Fleur knew Meg had fallen in love with him and that she'd been deeply hurt. Every maternal instinct she possessed urged her to protect Meg from more pain.
She considered the gaping holes in the story she'd just heard. Francesca's glamorous exterior concealed a razor-sharp mind, and she'd revealed only as much as she wanted to. Fleur had no reason to trust her, especially when it was clear that her son was her priority. The same son who'd put the new sadness in Meg's eyes. But Meg wasn't a child, and Fleur had no right to make a decision like this for her.
She reached for the phone and called her daughter.