Texas Born (53 page)

'Honey? You all right?'

Startled, she opened her eyes and turned to
her husband, Freddie. He kept glancing between her and the road, a
concerned expression creasing his face.

'I'm fine,' she assured him softly. She
smiled and reached over, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. He
knew she hadn't been able to sleep since her great grandmother's
death, but she didn't want to alarm him by letting him see how
drained and weak she felt now. 'Don't worry, honey. I'm okay. Just
tired.' And then she let her head fall back gently on the
headrest.

A few more weeks, she thought. Just a few
more weeks and then I'll give Freddie his child. But that thought
awoke a nagging worry which wiggled in the fog of her exhausted
mind like a worm. What if it wouldn't come in a few weeks? What if
it were sooner? What if the baby came tomorrow or even today?

She shifted again slightly , shaking her head
to dispell the moment of panic. She shouldn't let Dr. Danvers worry
her like this. He might be a doctor, even one of the best in the
field, but he was just being overprotective when he advised her not
to make the trip to Texas. She was, alter all, still three weeks
away from full term. And Dr. Danvers didn't understand the
importance of her great-grandmother's last wish.

It had been a small enough thing to ask that
Dorothy-Anne scatter her ashes in Quebeck, Elizabeth-Anne's home.
Dorothy-Anne understood the request and knew she had to fulfill it
as quickly as she could. That's what Elizabeth-Anne had wanted, and
what Dorothy-Anne needed to do. She had to know Elizabeth-Anne's
soul was finally at rest - the rest she had waited so long for, and
so fully earned. Dorothy-Anne knew she was at the end of her rope,
that she had pushed herself as far physically and mentally as she
dared - but this was something she had to do, now.

Dorothy-Anne closed her eyes, again trying to
ease her sense of restlessness and anxiety. But she knew these
feelings wouldn't fade. They sprang from a grief so overwhelming, a
loss so profoundly deep, it was physically painful. She didn't know
if she would ever be able to get over it.

And then she had a thought that brought a
tentative smile to her lips. After all, how could she forget a
great-grandmother who had given her a thirty million dollar
birthday present?

That had been on her ninth birthday, almost
ten years before. Dorothy-Anne felt she would be able to turn the
clock back to that day if she lived to be a hundred . . .

October 17, 1974. Autumn, and she was looking
out her bedroom window in the big house in Tarrytown, her chin
resting on her crossed arms. Below, the gardeners were out in full
force, raking the fallen, golden leaves. But she wasn't watching
them; she was on the lookout for Great-Granny's car. It would come
from between the tall, clipped hedges which stood guard at the far
end of the curved driveway.

She had been dressed and waiting for over an
hour. Nanny, her governess, had allowed her to wear her favorite
red dress, with its starched lace collar and glittering, tiny
rhinestone buttons. After all, it wasn't every day that a girl
celebrated her ninth birthday, or that Great-Granny came expressly
to pick her up and drive her down to the city to celebrate it in
style.

Dorothy-Anne glanced again at the china
shepherdess clock on the windowsill. Her heart skipped a beat. It
was twenty-seven past one. Just three more minutes, and
Great-Granny's car would appear. Dorothy-Anne knew this for a fact;
Elizabeth-Anne Hale was never late.

Dorothy-Anne sat poised to leap up, watching
the second hand of the clock make three last graceful sweeping
revolutions, and then at precisely one thirty, she jumped forward
and pressed her nose flat against the glass, her breath making a
little halo of fog. Her eyes lit up.

There it was, the majestic yellow-and-black
Rolls-Royce. The shiny hood with the chrome grille and the big
bug-eye headlamps was just nosing out from between the hedges.

Jumping to her feet, she ran from the room
and raced down the long, carpeted hall. When she reached the head
of the stairs, she got up on the sleek bannister with a well-
practiced backward hop. She balanced herself carefully and then let
go, beginning the long smooth slide down the wide staircase.

As she slid down to the first-floor landing,
she saw Nanny looking up at her with stern disapproval.
Immediately, Dorothy-Anne clutched the bannister so that, with a
squeak of burning friction against her palms, she came to an abrupt
halt. Slowly, she slid off the bannister and walked down the rest
of the way with ladylike dignity.

She smiled shyly up at Nanny, but the smile
wasn't returned. She didn't really mind. Nanny wasn't a bad sort,
even if she wasn't much given to smiling. That didn't matter
because Dorothy-Anne was fascinated by Nanny's looks. She was over
fifty, with gray eyes and hair, and in profile her body looked
remarkably like a silhouetted map of Africa. The stateliness of her
bust and buttocks beneath the black dress she always wore was
especially surprising in contrast to her thin and shapely legs.

Nanny looked down at Dorothy-Anne and without
speaking held out the tan cashmere coat and helped her into it.
Then Dorothy-Anne stepped back and awaited inspection. She could
almost see Nanny tick off the items on her check list with her
critical glance: hair combed and neat, dress buttoned, hem
straight. Now came the final test.

Nanny stepped closer and leaned down so that
her pointed face was not two inches from Dorothy-Anne's.

'Breathe,' she ordered.

Dutifully, Dorothy-Anne opened her mouth and
sighed right into Nanny's face.

Nanny's eyes flickered. She straightened,
reached into her dress pocket, and produced a rock-hard white
candy. Dorothy-Anne accepted it, unwrapped it from the clear
cellophane and handed the wrapper back to Nanny. She then popped
the mint into her mouth and with a practiced flick of her tongue,
pushed it into the hollow of a cheek. The menthol taste was sharp
and mediciney, but she refrained from making a face.

Nanny leaned down again and began to button
Dorothy-Anne's coat from the bottom up. 'Now don't you forget your
manners,' she warned sternly. 'When you get into the car, say:
"Good afternoon, Great-Grandmother. It was very lovely of you to
invite me." '

Dorothy-Anne nodded solemnly.

'If you receive a gift, open it
slowly
.' Nanny gave her a meaningful look. 'Don't tear the
wrappings to shreds. And don't forget to say: "Thank you,
Great-Grandmother. I'll treasure it always." '

Dorothy-Anne nodded again. The mint was
making her salivate, but she refrained from swallowing. That way,
the awful menthol taste didn't spread.

She then followed Nanny to the main entrance
and stepped aside as the huge mahogany double doors were pulled
open by the butler. When she stepped outside, the fresh air felt
cool and good against her face. A brisk wind was blowing down the
Hudson Valley, scudding the white clouds overhead and doubling the
work of the gardeners who were still busy raking leaves.

As soon as she heard the door shut behind
her, she leaned over the balustrade, turned her face sideways and
spat the mint behind the clipped yews, where it joined a pile of
others. Then she wiped her lips with the back of a hand and,
letting out a whoop of joy, raced down the steps to the waiting
car.

Forty minutes later, the big car rolled to a
stop under the yellow canopy of the Hale Palace Hotel on Fifth
Avenue. Both of the doormen came rushing down the red-carpeted
steps, practically falling over each other to open the passenger
door. Dorothy-Anne slipped carefully out on the street side, pushed
the door shut with both hands and came around the car. Wide-eyed,
she stared at the doormen. They were identical twins, dressed in
pale blue uniforms with glittering rows of brass buttons and
braided gold epaulets on their shoulders.

Max, the chauffeur, went wordlessly around to
the trunk and lifted out Elizabeth-Anne's collapsible wheelchair.
Max was the biggest man Dorothy-Anne had even seen. He was
Japanese, carried his huge shoulders and enormous paunch with
pride, and had once been a sumo wrestler. Dorothy-Anne thought Max
was a funny name for a sumo wrestler, but Great-Granny had
explained that her first chauffeur had been named Max, and
thereafter, she had called all the others Max, too.

During the drive down from Tarrytown,
Great-Granny's nurse, Miss Bunt, had sat up front beside Max. Now
she silently took the chair from him and wheeled it into position
on the sidewalk. She held it firmly by the handles as Max ducked
into the Rolls.

'Ready, Miss Hale?' he asked.

Great-Granny looked at him dourly, but she
didn't move. 'As ready as I'll ever be,' she said in her clear,
clipped voice.

Carefully, he scooped her out of the car and
deposited her ever so gently into the wheelchair. Next came the lap
blanket, which he tucked around her lap and legs.

Dorothy-Anne watched the ritual closely,
fascinated as always by anything Elizabeth-Anne did. She idolized
her great-grandmother, realizing even at her young age that the
elder Hale was a very special type of woman.

Although Elizabeth-Anne's last stroke had
left her paralyzed from the waist down, no one had ever heard her
complain; nor did she give the impression that she was helpless.
When she had walked, she had done so with erect dignity and, now
that she was confined to a wheelchair, she still maintained a regal
bearing. Tall and gaunt, she wore her silver hair in a thick, full
permanent. Clipped to her ear lobes were large jade cabochons
surrounded by a fine lacework of white gold filigree.

The bright afternoon light showed each of her
seventy-one years etched clearly on her face, her skin cracked
finely like the surface of an ancient painting seen through a
magnifying glass. Yet the light showed more than her age. It also
revealed her unique and indomitable strength. That was what was
most striking about her, her unmistakable air of inner purpose. She
was a woman at home in plush and polished surroundings, but also
one of the world's shrewdest and wealthiest entrepreneurs, the
founder of a multinational empire which included 432 luxury hotels
worldwide.

'Thank you, Max,' Elizabeth-Anne said crisply
once she was settled comfortably in her wheelchair. She focused her
clear blue eyes on Dorothy-Anne, and raised her eyebrows
questioningly. 'Shall we proceed?'

Dorothy-Anne nodded.

Elizabeth-Anne Hale lifted a hand in an
imperious but graceful gesture. 'Miss Bunt?'

The nurse stepped aside as the twin doormen
took over. They pushed the wheelchair smoothly up the ramp, while
Dorothy-Anne and Miss Bunt followed alongside, on the red-carpeted
stairs. The chair rounded the top of the ramp and Miss Bunt took
over again, pushing Great-Granny toward the gleaming brass and
etched-glass doors of the Hale Palace that the doormen already held
open. Dorothy-Anne noticed that the doors were flanked by perfect,
ball- shaped topiary trees in brass tubs. She fell back as
something about the tubs caught her eye. They gleamed like gold and
. . . for the first time she noticed the engraved intertwined
script

HH.

Hale Hotels.

Like the cherry topping a sundae, this last
touch made her feel especially important. Great-Granny was a Hale.
And so, she thought with a surge of pride, was she.

Elizabeth-Anne had commandeered the Tropical
Court so the two of them could have lunch alone. The enormous
courtyard was glassed-in eighteen floors above, and Dorothy-Anne
thought it was the most exciting place in the world. With the
splashing fountains, thickets of exotic foliage and towering palms,
the restaurant allowed one to easily imagine it was in the tropics.
Especially with the riotously feathered parrots and pale cockatoos
with clipped wings that screamed from their perches.

The lunch was accompanied by a string
quartet, and served by a moustached maitre d' and two unctuous
waiters. The meal itself was simple but delicious: jumbo shrimp
cocktails, a salad of red leaf and avocado, whole lobsters and
sauteed green spinach. Elizabeth-Anne chatted warmly with
Dorothy-Anne as the girl happily cleared her plates, even down to
the spinach.

When the meal was over, three waiters and the
maitre d' brought in an exquisitely frosted birthday cake. Nine
tiny candles were arranged in a circle and glowed with little
halos. As it was ceremoniously set down in front of Dorothy-Anne,
the quartet broke into a rendition of 'Happy Birthday'.
Great-Granny joined the singing, her voice surprisingly clear and
melodious.

The cake was served with dollops of French
vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chilled Dom Perignon.
Great-Granny allowed Dorothy-Anne to drink half a glass of it,
undiluted. When the desert plates were cleared away, the quartet
withdrew and they were alone. The splashing of the fountains and
the screams of the birds now sounded very loud. Great-Granny looked
across the courtyard, and Dorothy-Anne followed her gaze. Two men
carrying attache cases were walking toward their table.

'Gentlemen,' Elizabeth-Anne said, gesturing
proudly, 'this is my greatgrand daughter, Miss Dorothy-Anne
Hale.'

The men looked down at her and extended their
hands. Dorothy-Anne remained seated and shook hands politely.

Both men seemed to have very dry, brittle
skin. They were in their sixties and had gray hair and wore
pin-striped suits.

'Mr. Bernstein, Mr. Morris,' Elizabeth-Anne
said. 'Please, sit down.'

As the men obeyed, putting their attache
cases down beside their chairs, Elizabeth-Anne rested her elbows on
the table and folded her hands. She looked at Dorothy-Anne and came
right to the point. 'Mr. Bernstein and Mr. Morris are attorneys,'
she explained.