Stone Cold Charade (A Stone Family Novel) (3 page)

Max stood up. “And, for God’s sake, don’t let
Emma find out! You know how she is about her babies. I find my butt on the
couch, and you find yourself fired! Got it?” Max waited for Frank to comment.

Yeah, like that will ever happen. One can hope
that he would finally put me out of my misery and fire me.
Not saying a word, he
shook his head and headed for his sedan.

As he reached his dusty rental, he opened the
file. Reading the name inside, he let his head hit the back of the headrest and
closed his eyes in dread. Pulling out his bottle of antacids, and shaking it,
Frank groaned aloud. It was empty.
So much for trying to stop his ulcer,
Frank thought back to what his doctor had told him,
“Lay off the stress.”

“Yeah. Right!” When Emma found out, he was
dead.

When I kick the bucket, I just pray the good
nuns at the orphanage I left everything to pray for my soul. Maybe I need to up
the annuity again, just to be safe? If I have to share the hereafter with Max
…
then I will need
every prayer I can get, because I’ll be in Hell after this one. Oh wait, I’m
already there.

Well, that was
certainly entertaining and informative
. Still shaking with frustration at Max’s
latest high handedness, Alexandria Stone glared at the old rotary phone, while
visualizing ways to strangle the man with the wire cord. Refusing to listen any
longer, she abruptly ended the call by slamming it down in its cradle. Praying
she was damaging his eardrum in the process, painfully. She silently thanked
her sister for not taking the time to update their father’s old office after
taking over on the ranch years before.

Spinning around from
the oak desk in disgust, she stared out the window behind it. She hoped the
view of the pastures on the east side of The Looking Glass Ranch in Franklin,
Texas would erase the conversation with Max from her tired brain, even though
every word seemed to be permanently branded there. The spread consisted of over
ten thousand acres of luscious property rich with cattle, green pastures, and
timber as far as the eye could see. It was to no avail. The scenery wasn’t
stopping the raging headache she felt building behind her eyes.

Even jury duty and a root
canal scheduled for the same day would be better than listening to a lecture
from Max. At least that would be more enjoyable than listening to him rant on
about how she needs to find a husband.

The next time some
idiot tells her to indulge her grandfather because no conversation could
possibly be so one-sided… That her grandfather was just a ‘misunderstood old
man’, she was going to wrap said idiot in a colossal red bow and hand deliver
him to Max. The poor twit would never know what hit him.

With Max, you learn
early on that when he speaks you can either agree with him, or you can shut up
and agree with him. There are never two sides to a conversation; there is just
his side. The word dictator always seemed to come to mind.

Great way to start a
vacation,
she thought. If the first hour was what she had to look forward to for the rest
of it. She was seriously considering high tailing it off the ranch as swiftly
as her size six feet would take her, and soon.

Her “‘poor misdirected
life,’” as Max called it, was complicated enough without him lecturing her on
finding a husband so she could settle down and start a family. Being told she
wasn’t getting any younger stung.
I’m twenty-four, not sixty-four and headed
for a nursing home, for cryin’ out loud!
Moaning at her own witless joke,
she contemplated her life, knowing at times that she did feel middle aged.
Profoundly, she wondered when her life would truly start...

God knows the glitz and
glamour didn’t impress her or matter to her anymore, if it ever did. She wasn’t
complaining, really. What was there to complain about? As careers went, she was
living most people’s fantasy, only, the loneliness was unrelenting at times
because of her unyielding work schedule. When was she supposed to have time for
a husband? She couldn’t even find five free minutes in the morning to look up
her horoscope in the newspaper while enjoying a cup coffee.

If the right man would
just materialize, then maybe she would think about slowing down. Finding this
elusive man seemed to be her hang-up. Most men she dated socially saw the
picture she presented to the outside world as Maximillion’s granddaughter and
heir to the Stone fortune, or her persona on stage. They didn’t see the real
woman she was underneath the facade. She needed a man who would love her for
herself, not her bank account.

When she had first
confided in her grandfather how she planned to be a singer like her mother, he
had just mumbled something about God punishing him. Despite his grumbling, he
helped her keep her identity confidential and out of the press, which caused
more problems than it solved. At the time, it sounded like the perfect
solution. Alex didn’t want to use her mother’s memory as a means to make it in
the music industry. She had strived to build her own name, using her individual
talents and determination. She didn’t want the fans of her late mother to
transfer their dreams and hopes of another Sandra Stone onto her.

Unfortunately, the
press became unyielding in their pursuit to discover the mystery of who Fire really
was. When she was on stage, the credits called her a classic beauty. They
described her as having good bone structure, a straight nose, high cheekbones,
and long eyelashes framing smoky green eyes. She had “a body to die for” per
some Chicago credit, and “legs that could stop downtown traffic in its tracks.”
End quotes.

Alex still regarded
herself as just ordinary. Gone was the gawky teenager she had been, the one
teased mercilessly for being overweight and having to wear thick eyeglasses.
Looking back at herself at that age, she remembered that she had been happy
with her long, dark red hair, deep green eyes, and frumpy body, but she had
preferred hiding in the shadows.

Taking a calming
breath, she turned back to the large room. Her gaze focused on her sister’s
laptop and the clutter of paperwork on her desk, and she was reminded of how
she had let Samantha talk her into coming to the ranch in the first place.
Why
didn’t I try harder to cancel this vacation, or at the very least, take it
somewhere else?
,
she asked herself for the umpteenth time. Her
sister, a cattle woman at heart, was the polar opposite of Alex, which was
evident in the far wall holding a floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the center of
it. Its shelves were crammed with breeding books Sam referenced as she ran the
day-in-day-out operations of the ranch. She on the other hand, hated cattle;
which was why she never could understand why she took her vacation here.

Alex was proud of what
her sister had accomplished, but it was like Sam had placed herself in exile.
Catching sight of the portraits on the remaining walls, she focused on dozens
of vivid paintings of the prized Angus bulls Sam had raised and bred on the
ranch. Glancing around she could find nothing that claimed this was a woman’s
office, it had a male feel to it.

Dragging a tired hand
over her face, she knew why she had come. All of her sisters, including her,
were worried about Sam. The ranch was having its own problem with the rustlers
hitting it, but ultimately she had let Sam persuade her into coming anyway
because she had wanted to see her big sister. She needed to see that Sam was
okay with her own eyes.

Hearing a noise, she
turned around to see Sam in the doorway wearing a grim face and a cream-colored
business suit. Her long blond hair was fastened in a neat French twist,
complimenting her pretty face. She was the second born of Alex’s siblings,
Maxine being the oldest by a mere ten minutes. The identical twins had their
grandmother Emma’s, blond hair and pale Irish complexion. Their wide-set, deep-green
eyes were framed with long lashes, their father Richard’s contribution to the
gene pool. They reminded Alex of super-models. Unlike herself, who was barely
5’5” in her stocking feet, they had inherited their mother’s 5’9” figure.

“Sorry you got stuck
talking to the old grizzly,” Sam said apologetically. “Max keeps calling here
every hour to check on the cattle-rustling problem,” she complained,
frustration lacing her husky voice. “You would assume the cattle could speak
and identify the rustlers, the way he talks. As if I need help from a man who
thinks all you have to do to catch the thieves is put TNT all around the cattle
and wait for the fireworks when they try to steal them. I would not put it past
him to drag the cattle into court to testify regarding the trauma they had to
endure at the hands of the rustlers, if we ever catch them.” Sam ran an angry
hand over her drawn face.

“Now Max is sending
some ex-marine or something down here to reevaluate the security on the ranch.
I swear if I didn’t drink, now would be a good time to start,” Sam continued as
she slid further into the room, moving toward her cluttered desk.

“I need to see a man in
Houston about a bull. I’ve been thinking about purchasing it for the ranch,”
Sam stated preoccupied, not bothering to look up as she rifled through her
desk. Sam was already thinking ahead to her upcoming business meeting. After
finding what she needed, she stuffed a file in her tan briefcase and swung back
around the desk, holding the briefcase in front of her like a shield as she
stopped in front of Alex.

Sam restlessly tapped
her fingers on the case, her eyes moving evasively around the room refusing to
meet her sister directly in the eyes. She quickly realized that Sam probably
didn’t want her to think she was abandoning her when Alex had only arrived a
few hours before.

Alex tried to put her
at ease by stating, “No problem. Maybe I’ll go for a swim.” The ranch was
equipped with a heated, year-round pool situated at the back of the house.
“Besides, here I don’t have to worry about reporters hiding out in the bushes.”
Alex reassured her sister, “We’ll catch up later, maybe watch a movie after
dinner tonight with a big bowl of popcorn as we use to do as kids?”

She smiled at her
sister, waiting for her to grasp that she wasn’t upset, but understood that she
had to run the ranch. It was her job. Even if she was on vacation, Sam wasn’t.
When Sam finally fixed her eyes on hers, Alex grew instantly concerned. Her
face was pale, appearing eaten up with apprehension and looking almost
physically sick with it. Her sister was worrying about something else.

“Sam, what’s wrong? You
look as if you’ve lost your best friend!” Alex encouraged. Hoping to get her
sister to confide in her, she took her sister’s hand and forced her to meet her
eyes. “Please let me help. What’s going on?”

“The security guy is
coming today. Could you talk to him, get an idea of what changes he wants to
implement around the place?” she said in a rush, her eyes pleading desperately
for Alex’s help.

“Me? Are you nuts? What
do I know about security on a ranch?” Alex exclaimed.

Sam smiled smugly back
at her as if she knew Alex would cave in and help anyway. Alex realized she had
fallen for the oldest trick in the book. By offering to help she walked right
into Sam’s trap. She would have to help; they both knew it. If push came to
shove, Alex was the expert between the two on security.

“But I don’t know
anything about cattle.” Smelling a rat, she narrowed her eyes at her sister.
There had to be more to why Sam was pushing the security expert off on her. Was
that why Sam had dodged the phone call from their grandfather earlier? Was it
the security consultant, or something else? It just didn’t add up.

“Why do I get the
feeling, there is more going on here than the simple fact that you don’t have
time to meet with this consultant? What gives?” Her sister kept eyeing the
door, and her anxiety was rising by the minute, if her fidgeting was any
indication.

“You know plenty about
the ranch. You grew up on one. As for security, you have a swarm of bodyguards
hovering around you when you travel as Fire,” Sam ventured, casting a pointed
look at her baggy clothes, intentionally sidestepping the question.

Alex knew how she
appeared. Her hair was scrapped back from her face in a high ponytail, and skin
washed clean of make-up. Black-rimmed glasses were firmly perched on her nose
even though she didn’t need them because of corrective eye surgery. The worn,
loose-fitting blue jeans that encased her lower half were partially covered by
the long black sweatshirt that had seen better days. It stopped at the top of
the thighs on her. The finishing touch was her aged sneakers. She admitted they
looked shabby but were more comfortable than three-inch heels. It made her look
scruffy and about fifteen again, but who was she going to impress out here? The
mailman?

“You know as well as I
do that I can’t dress like Fire when I’m here!” Alex gestured with her hands to
what she wore and pursed her lips. “This is comfy! Do you want the reporters
crawling all over the ranch wanting to know why Fire is in residence?” Alex
exclaimed.

She had come to the
ranch to escape the flash of cameras and the personal questions they hammered
her with relentlessly. Nothing was private to them, not if it sold magazines.
Every part of Fire’s life always seemed to find its way into the headlines.
Whether it was a new album she was releasing or going to the local coffee shop,
she constantly seemed to make it into print or was being twitted about.