Windswept (32 page)

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need anything. Say hello to Corinne and Aunt Phyllis for me.”

“Will do. Take care.” Taylor hung up on his end.

Davis slowly returned the phone to its cradle. Damn, Lloyd was getting more unstable. If he would just stay in Louisiana . . .

And if Bill would find himself a job . . .

Damn. What a family. And Granddaddy had charged him with protecting them all. “I can manage with outside threats, but I can’t save them from themselves,” he muttered as he swiveled back to his computer screen.

But no emergency existed at the moment, thank God, and he could return to his more pressing business tasks.

***

Barrett was pleased with herself by dinnertime. She’d woken up energized--thanks partly to Davis, she was sure. The knowledge of their mutual desire, the experience of lovemaking with him, and probably also the comeuppance of Horace had combined somehow to clear her mind for work. She’d accomplished so much today and she couldn’t wait to tell him.

All it took, however, was the sight of him to tone down her exuberance. He radiated weariness when he joined her in the dining room and gave her a light kiss and a distracted smile.

After Eva had served them and left the room, she asked, “Are you okay? You look a little grim.”

“It’s been a day of interruptions. Then, on the way home, I was thinking about my family--all the parts of it. Lloyd called this morning.” He grimaced and shook his head.

“What did he want?” Barrett felt a little shiver of premonition run down her back like an unwelcome icy drop of rain.

“Just more ranting about the papers. I also heard from another cousin who said Lloyd’s been trying to bring the rest of the family to his side, but nobody’s buying. Lloyd still has no facts and he’s in Louisiana, so he can’t bother us.” He paused, took a sip of water. “I’m more worried about Bill.”

Barrett raised her eyebrows in question. Inwardly one part of her was elated. Davis was finally talking to her, sharing his life, not cutting her out. Another part was not happy. He must be really worried if he was telling her. “What happened?”

“Bill came to see me this morning. His excuse was to tell me some gossip he’d heard at a party on Sunday. His real reason was to ask for an advance on his quarterly allowance. I stopped him before he could get that far, but I expect a return visit.” He explained about the trust fund from his father. “Bill has never settled down in a job, but every grifter and con artist in the state knows his name. Martha and I saved him a couple of times, but now neither of us will give him a cent and I won’t let him use the principal in his fund for these fly-by-night schemes.”

“Has he ever worked? What did he study in college?”

“Outside of summer temporary ones, mostly for the fun of it, he’s never held a job. And all he has is a useless degree in English.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with the liberal arts,” she said in mock outrage, hoping to lighten the situation.

“Point taken. But you did something with it. Bill’s never seemed motivated to do anything but live high. How long his principal will last when he gets his hands on it in two years is anybody’s guess. I know he resents me for telling him ‘no’ all the time, but I promised our father I’d take care of him. I just wish he’d do something with his life. He’s very smart, everything has always come easy with him, and he can charm the pants off anyone. But the man’s twenty-eight, and he won’t grow up.”

“I’m sorry for him then. If I think of anything to help . . .”

“Thanks, but he’s not your problem.” He must have heard the curtness in his statement because he added, “I’d appreciate any ideas, but I don’t know if Bill will listen to anybody.”

“I’m willing to give it a try if you want me to. My brothers claim I have a second Ph.D. in laying down the law to men.”

He shot her a glance and chuckled as she hoped he would. “I’ll bet. Speaking of which, laying down the law, I mean, I talked with Milt Callahan. He sends you his apologies for bringing Sandra to the party.”

“He has nothing to apologize for.”

“That’s what I told him. Sandra conned him with some cock-and-bull story about wanting to get back together with me. After he saw the real situation and hustled her out of here, he told her in no uncertain terms not to call him again. I think we’ve seen the last of Sandra.”

“Good,” Barrett said. “I’m not sure I could control my reactions if she damaged any more of the papers.” Or made a move on him, but she didn’t say the words out loud.

“Nor could I.” He waved his hand as if brushing the subject aside. “But enough of this. Tell me about your progress today.”

She began talking about the letters she had found and her calls to the political experts, one of whom would come in a couple of weeks to assess the correspondence. He listened and asked questions as he always did, but she knew the problem of Bill would continue to perplex him. She only wished she had an answer.

Davis still looked a little bleak when Barrett came into his bedroom that night. She had gotten ready for bed in the guest bedroom where her clothes and things still resided. Looking at him standing by the window gazing into the darkness with his hands in his pockets, she felt a little apprehensive. She did not think she knew his moods well enough yet to predict his responses. She walked over to stand by his side.

“Davis?” She put a hand on his arm.

He simply put his arms around her and held her close. “Hmmm?”

“If you want to sleep alone tonight, it’s okay.”

An incredulous expression on his face, he leaned back to frown at her. “Didn’t I tell you yesterday I want you in my bed every night? Where did you get such a preposterous idea?”

“You just look like you have some thinking to do, and I don’t want to be a hindrance or anything. Sometimes people like to be alone . . .” He stopped her with a kiss, a long, thorough, arousing kiss.

“Does that convince you I want you in my bed?” he asked huskily when he finally raised his head. “Now take off this horrible robe you’re wearing. On second thought, let me help you.” He untied the sash and reached inside the robe.

At the touch of his hands, Barrett decided she could help him get over his problems in another manner.

His lovemaking was so tender and fierce at the same time, Barrett almost wept, she was so happy.

Chapter Twenty-Three

About eleven Tuesday morning, Barrett was sitting on the office floor surrounded as usual by papers when Martha Jamison breezed into the room--followed by a perturbed-looking Gonzales.

“It’s okay, Gonzales,” Martha said airily. “You don’t have to announce me. How are you, Barrett?”

“Thank you,
don Jesus
,” Barrett told the houseman and looked up at the other woman. “I’m fine, Martha, how are you?” She wasn’t surprised Davis’s sister had come to check her out. Good. She wanted to know Martha better herself.

“I was in the neighborhood and don’t have an appointment until three. I hoped we could have lunch. Do you have the time?” Her smile was hopeful, optimistic and innocent. Barrett bet Martha could sell anything to anyone with her smile.

“Sure, but I’m not exactly dressed to go out.” She indicated her jeans and U.C. Berkeley T-shirt.

“We can run over to Goode Company.”

Barrett licked her lips at the thought of excellent, tart, spicy barbecue. “You’ve twisted my arm. Let me put on my shoes and tell the Gonzaleses I’m going.”

Over chopped beef sandwiches, coleslaw, and iced tea, Martha and Barrett discussed the realty business and the writing of history. They were finishing their iced tea before Martha finally got down to business.

“Of course, the real reason I asked you here was to discuss Davis,” she said in a confidential manner.

Barrett raised her eyebrows. She didn’t mind talking about herself, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about him with his sister. Well, too late, she was in it now. “Oh?” she asked in what she hoped was a noncommittal way.

Martha ignored her reserved tone and stated, “I saw the way he looked at you at the party. He’s never looked that way at any other woman in his life. Even Sandra. Especially Sandra. God, what a bitch. She really dug her claws into him. They met when he was twenty-eight. His business was beginning to take off, I was on my feet, and Bill was in college. Mother was doing well also.”

She sighed. “I think he finally felt free from all the responsibility that fell on him when Daddy died. Davis assumed the protector role then and took care of all of us. He’s still doing it where Bill is concerned. Granddaddy helped, but he was in Louisiana, and we were here. Davis did a fine job. I imagine, now Granddaddy’s gone, Davis will step into his shoes, looking out for all the Jamisons, here and in Louisiana. As you can probably tell, family is pretty big with us.”

“Us, too,” Barrett interjected.

“Right. Then you know what I’m saying. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Sandra. Davis looked around and there she was, a golden, gorgeous goddess. He decided she was it, the woman he’d marry. Why, I never figured out.”

Martha shrugged, rattled the ice in her glass. “Maybe he thought he was in love, maybe he thought she was the perfect woman to fill the role of his wife, maybe he was simply in lust, I don’t know. I always thought she was a cold-hearted bitch, but what could I say? He did listen to my advice about a pre-nup, thank goodness. And the rest is history, as they say. I’ve been worried about him in the past couple of years. Oh, he’s dated, but I know he’s been lonely.” She leaned back, studied Barrett.

“Then Granddaddy died, left him the papers, and here you were. Quite frankly, I think you could be the best thing for him.” She shot Barrett a sharp glance. “And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about. It sticks out all over you.”

Barrett laughed and felt a blush creeping up her neck. She sighed. She was thinking only in the short term; Martha was way out in the future--where she had resolutely refused to go. “Look, you’re jumping to a conclusion too fast. In my trade, we call it theorizing ahead of your data. I do like Davis. A lot. But we’re really only friends. I’m doing a job for him. That’s all it is. At the end of the summer, I’ll go back to my life and he’ll go back to his.” A small arrow of sadness shot through her at the statement, but she was careful not to let it show.

“I know what I see,” Martha said firmly. “Davis needs somebody like you, someone who’s fun and smart, who can take him away from business, from himself, who has other interests than clothes and socializing. And anyone who can squelch Sandra like you did has my vote. He’s been carrying a load all by himself for a long time. I think I’ve been successful enough now so he doesn’t worry about me anymore, but Bill is another matter.”

“Yes, he told me about your brother last night.”

“Bill drives both of us crazy.” She began to gather her things. “Well, I’ve said my piece. I hope you’re around for a long time, Barrett. I like you, and I think you could do a lot for Davis. Tell me about your family while we go back to the house. I especially want to compare notes on brothers.”

“Thank you,” Barrett said, grateful Martha wasn’t going to belabor the subject of her relationship with Davis. She wouldn’t know what to say; she hadn’t truly decided anything about it--like what would happen in August when she went back to school. Enjoy the moment, she thought. The future would have to take care of itself.

***

Davis felt more like his old self at dinner Tuesday evening. Somehow sharing his thoughts about Bill with Barrett had helped restore his good spirits. Certainly sharing his bed had contributed also. Their affair was going exactly as he had planned.

He was feeling smug and complacent until Barrett said Martha had dropped by. What was his sister doing, meddling in his . . . situation, he decided was the best word. He wouldn’t come right out and ask the question, however. “Oh?” he said.

“Yes. We went out to lunch.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yes, it was. We had a good time. She wanted to know about the papers, and we discussed the real estate business here and in the DFW area. She’s very knowledgeable and must be good at her job.”

Barrett’s tone sounded intentionally blithe, but Davis knew Martha wouldn’t have come over without an agenda. “Did she have anything else to say?”

She smiled, innocence personified. “Oh, we did discuss the attitudes and shortcomings to be found in older brothers. Younger ones, too.”

Davis groaned. “I suppose she told you a lot of scurrilous tales about me.”

“A few. Did you really terrorize Eric, her first boyfriend in high school? Threaten him with a big Bowie knife?” She was grinning now, an evil sister grin. God, he felt for her brothers.

“Not exactly. He was a senior and she was a freshman. He was too old for her and had a questionable reputation. I just happened to have with me the hunting knife Granddaddy gave me when I discussed Martha with the horny son of a bitch. I simply told him he’d be singing soprano if he touched her. End of problem.”

He tried to give her a haughty, I’m-a-big-brother-don’t-mess-with-me look, but she started laughing, and her delight was so contagious, he ended up joining her. He’d laughed, chuckled, and downright howled more since Barrett came than he had in the previous year, he realized. There was just something about this woman that made him happy.

But then she said, “You know, Martha and I should get together more often. We both need support dealing with our brothers.”

“Heaven help us.” It was a heartfelt prayer.

They adjourned to their respective offices after dinner. About eight-thirty, the internal line rang in his office. Gonzales announced, “There are three gentlemen with the last name of Browning here asking if they can see you, sir. They ask you not tell la maestra of their presence.”

This could only be Barrett’s brothers. There must be something in the air this week. If it wasn’t one brother, it was three. “Thank you. I’ll be right out,” Davis replied. Barrett had her head down, reading, when he passed her desk. As usual, she was concentrating so hard, he did not think she noticed him. Good.