Denim and Lace (8 page)

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Authors: Diana Palmer

BOOK: Denim and Lace
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She stared at him hungrily, hoping for a last-minute reprieve. That he'd propose marriage. That he'd ask her to wait for him. That he'd say, “Don't go.”

He did none of those things. He stared at her for one long moment and then he turned his horse without a word, not even a goodbye, and went back the way he'd come. She watched him until he was a pinpoint in the distance, tears streaming down her cheeks. At least, she thought, she had one sweet memory to put under her pillow at night. She touched the silver ring on her finger and kissed it softly. She didn't really understand why Cade would give her a family heirloom when he hadn't said anything about a commitment, but it was the most wonderful present she'd ever received. She'd never part with it. It would remind her of Cade and help her cope with the hardships ahead.

And she knew Gussie was going to be the worst hardship of all.

CHAPTER SIX

I
T
TOOK
WEEKS
for all the loose ends to be tied together, weeks during which Bess sometimes thought Gussie would drive her insane. She moped around the small apartment they'd taken in San Antonio, complaining about its size while she moaned about the loss of their fortune and grumbled about her late husband who was the cause of it all.

The sale of Spanish House was the final hurdle. A couple from Ohio bought it, and Bess breathed a sigh of relief when the papers were signed and the money advanced. Donald took over, paying out the last of the creditors. Gussie didn't know that Bess had given him Great-aunt Dorie's pearls, which were quietly sold to a jeweler for top dollar. She had to pay back Cade, so that he wouldn't lose Lariat. Despite what he'd said about the legacy and heritage of those pearls, she'd rather lose them than let him lose his ranch.

The pearls were a small price to pay for the delight they were going to give Cade. But she made Donald promise not to tell him how she'd obtained the money. Let him think they realized a profit from the sale of the house and land, she told their attorney. She didn't want to tell Gussie, but inevitably she noticed that the pearls were missing.

“Where are Great-aunt Dorie's pearls?” she demanded petulantly. “They aren't in your jewelry box.”

Bess was half angry that her mother should still be searching through her things after so many years. It was an old pattern that she'd always resented. “Why were you looking in my jewelry box?” Bess asked with faint indignation.

“Don't be absurd,” Gussie said indifferently. “Where are they?”

Bess took a deep breath. No time like the present, she thought, to start as she meant to go on. “I sold them.”

“You said they were costume jewelry!”

“I lied,” Bess said with pretended calm. “We had debts to pay off...”

“The debts were already paid off. That man,” she began slowly, her temper rising. “You sold them to pay back Cade Hollister!”

Bess forced herself to breathe slowly. “I couldn't let his family lose Lariat because of us,” she said.

“Damn his family and damn him!” Gussie burst out. “How dare you! How dare you sell an heirloom like those pearls!”

“It was a debt of honor,” Bess began. “Dad would have—”

“Your father was a weak fool,” Gussie said. “And so are you!”

Bess's lower lip trembled. Tears stung her eyes. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't...but the tears spilled over.

Gussie wasn't moved. “I was going to buy a car with those pearls,” she said angrily, “and you gave them away!”

That stopped the tears. Bess wiped them angrily from her cheeks and glared at her mother. Sell the pearls to buy a car, when they could barely meet their rent, and the money from the sale of the house was all but gone. She glared at Gussie.

“Yes, I sold them,” she said, her voice shaking because it was the first time she'd ever spoken back. “And Cade will keep Lariat for his children. Children I'll never have, thanks to you. No man is ever going to want me because of you!”

Gussie turned her head warily, watching Bess as if she thought the younger woman had a fever. “That's enough, Bess.”

“No, it isn't!” Bess's voice broke. “I can't take care of myself and you. Dad always looked after us, but I'm not Daddy. I'm not strong. I can't cope with a job and bills and you!”

Gussie looked mortally wounded. “That my own child should speak to me like this,” she said huskily. “After all I've done for you.”

Bess's lips were trembling so hard that she could barely get words out. “You're making this so difficult,” she whispered.

“I suppose I could always go on welfare.” Gussie sniffed, reaching for a handkerchief. “And live in the streets, since my own child doesn't want me.” She began to cry pitifully.

Bess knew it was an act. She knew that she should be strong, but she couldn't bear to hear Gussie cry. “Oh, Mama, don't,” she moaned, going to Gussie, to hold her. “It's all right. We'll be fine, really we will.”

“We could have had a nice car,” Gussie sniffed.

“We couldn't have afforded gas and oil for it though,” Bess murmured, trying to make a joke. “And somebody would have had to wash it.”

Gussie actually laughed. “Well, it wouldn't have been me, you know; I can't wash a car.” She hugged Bess back. “I know it's hard for you, but darling, imagine how it is for me. We were rich and now we have so little, and it's difficult.”

“I know,” Bess said gently. “But we'll get by.”

“Will we?” Gussie sat up, rubbing her red eyes. “I do hope so.” She sighed shakily. “Bess, you really will have to see about getting a job soon.”

Bess started to argue, but Gussie was right. Her mother wasn't suited to any kind of work, and the most pressing problem was how they were going to live. After all the debts were paid, Bess and Gussie were left with little more than six hundred dollars and some of Gussie's jewelry.

“I'll start looking first thing in the morning,” Bess said quietly.

“Good girl.” Gussie got up. “Oh, damn the Hollisters,” she muttered, glancing irritably at Bess. “I'll never forgive Cade for letting you pay off that debt in full. He could have refused the money, knowing how bad off we are.”

Bess colored. “Mother, he's got debts of his own and Dad's investment scheme almost cost him Lariat. You know how he feels about heritage, about children.”

“I don't want to talk about him. And don't you get any more ideas about that man. I won't let you get involved with him, Bess. He's the last man on earth for you. He'd break your spirit as easily as he breaks horses. I absolutely forbid you to see him, do you understand?”

“I'm twenty-three years old, Mother,” Bess said uneasily. “I won't let you arrange my life.”

“Don't be silly,” Gussie laughed pleasantly. “You're a lovely girl and there are plenty of rich men around. In fact,” she began thoughtfully, “I know of a family right here in San Antonio with two eligible sons...”

Cade had been right. Bess stared at her mother in astonishment. “You aren't serious!” she burst out.

“It doesn't hurt to have contacts,” Gussie was saying. “I'll phone them tonight and see if I can wrangle an invitation for us.”

“I won't go,” Bess said doggedly.

“Don't be silly. Of course you'll go. Thank God we still have some decent gowns left.” Gussie waltzed out of the room, deep in thought and deaf to Bess's protests.

Bess didn't sleep. Gussie had upset her to the point of depression, and she was only beginning to realize what a difficult life it was going to be. Shackled with her flighty mother, there would never be any opportunity to see Cade again unless she fought tooth and nail. Not that Cade would try to see her. He was right in a way: there could never be a future for them with Gussie's interference. But it broke her heart.

At least Cade could keep Lariat now, she thought sadly. She'd done that for him, if nothing else.

The next morning she went out early to start looking for a job. She put her application in at two ad agencies and one magazine office, but her lack of experience was a strike against her and her typing skills were almost nonexistent. She and Gussie didn't have a typewriter for her to practice on and she couldn't afford to buy one. Perhaps she could rent one, she thought, and practice at night.

When she got back to the apartment at lunchtime, Gussie was in bright spirits. “We've got an invitation to dinner with the Rykers tonight,” she said gaily. “They're sending a car for us at six. Do wear something sexy, darling. Jordan is going to be there. Daniel couldn't manage, he's in New York for a business meeting. Anna said she'd be delighted to see us both. You don't know her, of course, but she and I were at school together.”

“Who is Jordan?” Bess asked warily.

“Jordan Ryker. Anna's eldest son. He's president of the Ryker Corporation. They make computers and that sort of thing. You'll like him, he's very handsome.”

“I will not be railroaded into a blind date.” Bess put her foot down.

“Don't start being difficult. We can't afford pride.”

“I can,” Bess said shortly. “I won't go.”

“You most certainly will.” Gussie turned and glared at her. “After what you did with our pearls, you owe me one little favor.” She saw that belligerence wasn't going to work, so she changed tactics. “Now, darling, you'll enjoy yourself. I'm not trying to throw you at Jordan. It isn't even a date. We're just having dinner with old friends.”

It couldn't be that simple, not with Gussie. Bess sighed wearily, knowing she was going to give in. She didn't have the heart to fight anymore. She'd lost Cade, and he was the only thing in life she might have cared enough to fight for.

“All right, Mama,” she said. “I'll go.”

“Lovely!” She held up a bracelet. “Isn't this adorable? I bought it today.”

“What did you pay for that?” Bess asked, aghast at the gold bracelet.

“Just a few hundred—”

“Give it here.” Before Gussie realized what was happening, Bess had taken the bracelet off. “It goes back. We can't afford things like this anymore.”

“But it's all right,” Gussie wailed. “I charged it!”

“Charges have to be paid. Now where did you get it?”

Gussie told her, flushing when Bess started getting ready to take it back.

“I can't possibly live like this,” Gussie wailed. “I must have a new winter coat, Bess, and my shoes are worn-out...”

“You have a new mink that Dad bought you last Christmas,” Bess returned coolly, “and at least thirty pairs of shoes, all leather, none of which have been worn more than twice.”

“They're out of style, and I won't be treated like this!”

“If you want to spend more money than we can afford, you could get a job,” Bess offered.

Her mother looked horrified. “But what could I do?”

“Babysit little children. Be a receptionist. Wash dishes in a restaurant. Be a bartender.”

Gussie's face paled. “You mean, work for the public? Oh, no, I couldn't do that,” she gasped. “Suppose some of our friends saw me?”

“This is San Antonio,” her daughter replied. “It won't shock anybody.”

“I won't do it,” Gussie said haughtily, and marched out of the room. “Besides, we still have our credit cards,” she added, as if that magically alleviated all debt.

Bess couldn't help but laugh. Her mother was such a sweet, incorrigible idiot.

Bess felt old these days. She'd had her long hair trimmed, so it curved thick and shiny down her back, dropping in soft honey-colored waves over her shoulders. She looked sophisticated, more mature. She'd need to look older if she was going to get a job.

She'd cried about leaving the home where she'd grown up, the neighbors—Cade. Well, Cade was a part of the past already, she thought miserably. He hadn't called or written or been to see them since they'd moved to San Antonio, and the one letter she'd written to him had been returned to her unopened. It hadn't been a mistake either, because Cade's handwriting was bold and Bess had recognized it. She felt cold and miserable about that and finally decided that what he'd said to her that last day had been out of pity. He knew how she felt about him and he'd felt sorry for her. He'd been giving her a treat, a sweet send-off. That was the only explanation she could find for the ring he'd given her and the things he'd hinted at. Her heart felt like lead in her chest as the days went by. She'd gone almost out of her mind at first, but slowly she was getting used to the idea that he just didn't want her. Physically, perhaps, she thought, even though he'd never kissed her. But wanting wouldn't be enough eventually. Maybe it was just as well that he was keeping his distance. Someday she might be able to cope with losing him. For now she had other problems. She got up wearily and went to the store to return the bracelet.

* * *

B
ESS
HAD
PUT
her long hair into a plaited bun and was just putting the final touches on her makeup when the doorbell rang. She listened, but at first she didn't hear the voices. Then as she put on her earrings, the ones that went with her sea-green strapless chiffon dress, the voices got louder and she suddenly recognized Cade's!

She ran out of her room, pausing just in time to hear her mother's triumphant voice telling him about their dinner invitation.

“She likes Jordan,” Gussie was adding, “and the Rykers are a founding family of San Antonio. We're being well cared for—”

“Mother!” Bess gasped.

Gussie glared at her. “I was telling Cade about our invitation,” she said innocently. “Don't talk long, darling. Jordan's chauffeur will be here to pick us up soon.” She whirled out of the room, elegant in black silk, leaving Bess to face a coldly furious Cade. God only knew what Gussie had told him, because he looked murderous.

He was wearing a becoming dark charcoal-gray suit, that suited him. His equally dark eyes narrowed as he looked her over.

She took a slow breath, her heart going wild just at the sight of him. “Would you like to come in?” she asked hesitantly.

He lifted a careless eyebrow. “No. I don't think so. I came here to ask a question, but I don't think it's necessary anymore.” His eyes went over her expensive dress and he smiled mockingly. “You don't seem much the worse for wear after paying me back, Bess, and you look all grown-up.”

“What did you want to ask me?” she murmured, letting her eyes wander slowly over his tanned face.

“I wanted to know where you got the money to give me.”

“Oh.” She breathed heavily. “I sent you a letter explaining it, but you sent it back unopened.”

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