Lone Star (61 page)

She leaned forward, too. “What did Hannah do now?”

“That's later. Now it's Lupe's turn. In her will, Lupe left everything to me.”

“What do you mean everything?”

“I mean
everything
.”

Chloe stopped mid-gooey-toffee slurp. “Like what? What did she have? She lived in a shack next to somebody else's mansion.”

“So you'd think. Turns out somebody else's mansion was hers, and the shack, and the ten acres of property leading to the river, and also an antiques store in North Conway, and a bed-and-breakfast in Crawford Notch, near here. Plus a shitload of investments.”

“No way!”

“Yeah way. Who knew, right?”

Chloe sat back. “Haven't you done well for yourself. And you thought Hannah couldn't stay away from you after you won a ten-thousand-dollar prize and made thirty grand fundraising.”

“Yeah, more on that later. Eat, before I devour it.”

“For three years you lifted Lupe's immobile legs into the car, and now look. Aww.” She smiled. “There's a moral in there somewhere.”

“Maybe at first glance.” He licked the spoon. His eyes were merry, his short hair a little longer, streaked blonder. He had shaved well but missed a small patch where his broad neck met his collarbone. Chloe didn't want to stare at it and make him self-conscious. He was trying so hard. “Lupe's sons, all three of them, raced in from California for the reading of the will, and you can imagine
their
reaction. They're taking me to court.
Trying to overturn the will, to say she died intestate. You should read the documents. It's so bizarre. They're saying I coerced her and sexually dominated her.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes. “Are you much known for that?”

“Well, sure, but not with her. She was mad old.”

Chloe laughed.

“It's so stupid,” Blake said. “I don't even want her stuff.”

“Don't say that. You do.”

“I don't. It's nothing but trouble. I had to get a lawyer and everything. Hey, maybe you can be my lawyer?” Blake made a frustrated gesture with his hands. “I put shoes on a cute old lady, and suddenly I'm the bad guy. Makes you not want to do anything for anybody.”

“Don't worry, they won't win,” said Chloe. “I'd love to be your lawyer, Blake. But I have to go to law school first.”

“Are you,” he asked, almost carefully, “going to law school?”

“Thinking about it, why?”

“Are you taking your LSATs?”

“This October.”

“Where, San Diego Law?”

“Thinking about it.”

“What, they don't have law schools on the East Coast? Not even one?”

“Maybe one,” she said with a return twinkle. Harvard Law was only a few hours away. “But it's why SDU offered me their prized undergrad scholarship in the first place. So I could eventually attend their prized law school.”

“Is that what you want to be when you grow up?” he asked, his mouth full of the last bite of bread pudding. “A lawyer in San Diego? Or do you still want to be a florist?” He pitched his baritone higher to sound like her. “Oh, because I sure love the laaaaaw, but flowers are so preeetty.”

And she laughed, and the way he looked at her while she was laughing made her feel slightly unsteady even though she was sitting down.

After lunch they wandered around the expansive country-club grounds of the hotel. Chloe wondered what the rooms were like, but of course wouldn't
think
of wondering this out loud. She bet they were pretty lux, though. Blake showed her the ballroom with the floor-to-ceiling Georgian windows and asked if she thought this was a nice place for a white wedding. Or even an off-white wedding, he quipped.

“I don't know,” Chloe said. “Who's getting married this time?”

He wouldn't say.

They drove into Crawford Notch to Lupe's bed-and-breakfast, a cozy maroon guesthouse up in the woody hills. They picked half a meadow of lupines and daisies. Blake said he had plans for the guesthouse if he won in court, but wouldn't tell Chloe what they were. On the way back, they bought an ice cream and stopped by Lupe's farm in Jackson. It was quite a spread. There was a large main house and acres of flat and landscaped lawn stretching to the woods that led to the river. There was a four-car garage, and another guesthouse.

“Blake, give up everything else, but definitely fight for this house,” said Chloe. “It's pretty special.”

“What in the world would I need a house this size for?”

“Eventually you'll want to fill it with little Blakes, no?” She knocked into him as they paced back and forth in front of the property, enjoying their ice cream. “Taylor told me . . .”

“Oh, so with Taylor you communicate aplenty.” He knocked into her, but gentler.

“What do you mean? You and I emailed all year. Anyway, Taylor told me you were hot and heavy with some chick named Fiona. Where do you even find these girls?”

“Fiona? In a bowling alley.” Blake grinned. “The indigent bowling alley with no money for league shirts. She bowled a 270.”

“Blake! You went out with a chick because she bowled a 270?”

“What, I need another reason?”

He was impossible. Chloe didn't mention the other thing Taylor had told her: that Fiona was inconsolable, because Blake had broken it off with her in April, out of the blue, just when she thought they were taking their relationship to the next level. Taylor said that Blake invariably seemed to find a girl in the fall and lose her by springtime. That dude has no staying power, Taylor solemnly told Chloe.

“So what's going on with Hannah?”

Blake put an arm around her shoulder and led her toward his truck. “All right,” he said. “For the climax of our afternoon, no pun intended, I'll show you Hannah.”

A few miles off the main drag in North Conway, out in the boonies, Blake pulled up in front of a modest one-story ranch house by the river.

This time they both walked up the steps to the front porch, littered with kids' toys. Blake knocked.

A few seconds later Hannah appeared at the door. Her hands were covered in flour, her hair, longer and unbleached, fell around her shoulders. Her giant pregnant stomach bumped the screen.

“Oh, look who's back.” Her face was full of harried happiness. “Hi, you two. Blake, bad boy, you said you'd call before you stopped by. I'd invite you in, but the house is a wreck. Next time, give me a half-hour warning, will you? Chloe, look at the porch swing we just got. Nice, right? Sit. I'll get you an ice tea.” She turned back inside. “Hayley, stop breaking all my eggs!”

“Hannah, wait,” Blake said. “We can't sit or stay.” His hand circled Chloe's upper arm to keep her from moving toward the swing. “We have to get back. Chloe just wanted to say hi. She approves of my idea, by the way.”

“I'm so glad!” Hannah smiled. Hannah. Smiled.

Also stunning: the enormity of Hannah's belly.

Squealing banging noise came from inside the house. “Zhenya, I'll be a sec, keep an eye on the baby!” Hannah shook her head in mild exasperation. “Those kids. Blake, let me know if you need anything. A deposition, or whatever. A statement. I'll write whatever you need. Chloe, can you believe it about those bastards suing Blake? He should be suing them for abandoning their own mother.”

“Chloe agreed to be my lawyer,” Blake said. “So I can't lose.” He squeezed Chloe's arm. He hadn't let go of her yet. “Here.” He handed Hannah the field of flowers he and Chloe had picked.

“For me? Thank you, Blake.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. He patted her huge belly.

“When are you due?” Chloe stammered.

“October. I know, I'm a rhino.” Hannah beamed. “It's twins.”

Chloe needed Blake's hand on her to keep her from reeling. Not from the news. From the joy with which the news was relayed.

“Blakie, I told Orville no way am I getting married,” Hannah continued, “until I lose the baby weight. Look at me. I must be two hundred pounds. They don't make wedding dresses in hippo size. Did you check out the ballroom at Mount Washington, by the way? What did you think?”

“We did, but Chloe didn't like it,” Blake said. “She thinks something is buried in the parquet. Like chinchillas. That's what she said the place smelled like. Dead chinchillas. Right, Chloe?”

“Blake! Don't listen to him, Hannah. It was perfect. A great place for a, um, wedding.” Blake squeezed her arm until she nearly laughed out loud.

In Blake's truck and down the block, Chloe spun to face him. He couldn't hide his howling delight.

“You're terrible!” She slapped his shoulder. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“And miss the shock on your face when you saw her? That was priceless.”

“She's having Orville's twins?!”

“Yup. The sucker. I guess he didn't want anyone else giving her rides home anymore. And she's quite grateful for that, as you can see.”

“Blake!”

“You know what, Miss Judgy, you should bless their union. I do. Every day I light a candle of thanks. It all worked out. I'm dating girls who know how to bowl, Orville is working two jobs and walking around like he's won the lottery. Hannah, too. Who would've thunk? You won't believe what a strict mother she is, by the way. Zhenya doesn't leave the house unless Hannah says she can leave the house.”

Chloe watched the passing road all the way to Fryeburg. How unpredictable life was, how surprising, how mystifying. “What's this wacky idea of yours I approve of?”

“If the law is on my side, I'm going to give Lupe's bed-and-breakfast to Orville and Hannah as a wedding present. They can make a good living there. Did you see its great location?”

Chloe stopped staring at the road and stared at Blake instead.

“Does my mother know any of this about you?” Lupe, Hannah, bed-and-breakfasts, Orville. Bouquets of lupines for his erstwhile love.

“Know what?” he said. “How young women thank me for car rides?” He raised his eyebrows. “Absolutely.”

“Blake!”

“Mom,” Chloe said to her mother, “is it true what Blake told me? He eats dinner here once a week?”

“Oh, that boy likes to exaggerate,” said Lang. “He comes by once in a while . . .”

“He said every week, Mom.”

Her mother demurred. Her father, already sitting at the dinner table, called Chloe over to his side. “You don't want us to feed him, Chloe-bear?” Jimmy asked, kissing his daughter's temple. “How was your day with him?”

“Fine, but—why does he do that? Why do you do that?”

“What, eat?”

“Why don't you invite Hannah or Mason or Taylor over for dinner?”

“For your information,” Jimmy said, “your mother would love to have more of your friends over. But Mason is married and busy, and Hannah is pregnant with twins and planning yet another wedding. We're hoping this one takes.”

“Go wash your hands,” Lang said, opening the back door. “Ray, dinner!”

The four of them sat down, blessed their food, broke bread.

“Geez, Mom. What do you talk about?”

“When?”

“At dinner! With Blake!”

“Don't shout, girl,” Jimmy said. “Nobody's deaf.”

“Nothing much,” Lang said, cutting up Ray's steak. “This. That. He's quite impressed by the deep coral petals of your roses.”

“That's not creepy at all, Mom. Why do you talk to him about my schedule at SDU?”

“He asks. What am I supposed to do, lie?” Lang glanced at Jimmy. “Why is she being so ornery about this?”

“Who knows, sweet potato? Pass the salt.”

“Because it's weird, Mom. It's supremely weird. How would Burt and Janice feel if I went over there for dinner?”

“Oh, you absolutely should!” Lang exclaimed. “I mean, Janice is not the best cook, you might want to eat a bite here first, but they love you. They're always asking how you are.”