Denim And Lace. Diana PalmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
the task would be well-nigh impossible.
Later that day, several neighbors came by the Samsons’ bringing food, a custom in rural areas that Bess was grateful for. Elise Hollister had sent a fried chicken and some vegetables, but she hadn’t come herself, and neither had Cade. Bess wondered why, but she accepted the food with good grace and thanks. Shortly after Maude had helped Bess set a table with the platters of food brought by their few friends, Gussie went up to bed with a headache. Bess got Great-aunt Dorie’s pearls and drove to the Hollister home.
She rambled quietly over several cattle grids, inside electrified wire fence stretched over rustic gray posts. The house wasn’t palatial at all, but it looked comfortable. Her eyes roamed lovingly over the white clapboard, two stories tall, newly painted with gray rocking chairs and a swing on the porch. Around it were towering live oaks and pecan trees, and in the spring it was glorious with the flowers Elise painstakingly planted and nurtured. Now, in winter, it had a bleak, sad look about it.
Bess parked the car in the driveway and got out, grateful for the porch light. It was almost dark, and there was no moon.
She walked slowly up onto the porch. It had been a terrible day, and it showed no sign of getting better. She hadn’t changed out of the black suit she’d worn to the funeral, nor had she added any makeup to her face or loosened her hair from the severe bun.
She knocked on the door, hearing a television set blaring in the background.
To her amazement Elise answered the door herself. She had Cade’s dark eyes and silver hair that had been jet-black in her younger days.
“Bess,” she said gently. “What are you doing here?”
“I need to see Cade,” Bess replied wearily. “Is he home?”
Elise was astute. She noticed the jewelry box clutched in Bess’s slender hand. “Darling, we’re not going to starve,” the older woman told her. “Please, Bess, go home. You’ve had enough on you these past few days.”
“Don’t,” Bess whispered, fighting tears. “I really can’t bear sympathy, Elise, I’ll just go to pieces, and I can’t. Not yet.”
The older woman nodded. “All right.” She managed a quiet smile. “Cade’s in his office. It’s the second door on the right.” She glanced toward the living room. “The boys are watching television, so you won’t be disturbed.”
“Thank you. For everything. The fried chicken was delicious, and mother said to thank you, too.”
Elise started to say something, but she stopped before the words got out. “It was the least I could do. I would have come, but the boys were busy with an emergency and there was nobody to drive me.”
“You don’t have to explain. We appreciate what you did,” Bess said softly. “I wish I could cook.”
“It’s a shame Gussie wouldn’t let Maude teach you,” Elise said.
Bess sighed. “Maude leaves at the end of the week,” she said. “We had to let her go, of course.” She tried to smile. “I’ll practice the trial-and-error cookery method. After I’ve burned up a few things, surely I’ll get the hang of it.”
Elise smiled. “Of course you will. If we can do anything...”
“Thank you.” She touched the older woman’s shoulder gently and turned down the long hall.
She knocked at the second door.
“Come in.”
Cade sounded tired, too, and irritated. That wasn’t encouraging. She opened the door and went in, leaning back against the cool wood for support. Her eyes cast briefly around the room. It was almost ramshackle compared with its counterpart at the Spanish House, with worn linoleum on the floor and equally worn throw rugs. The chairs were faded with age, and the paintings on the wall dated to the twenties. There was a small lamp on Cade’s desk, along with stacks of ledgers and paperwork.
He sat at his desk, bent over one of the ledgers. He didn’t look up for a minute, and Bess was shocked at the sheer fatigue she saw in his face. He had all the responsibility for the ranch these days and took care of all the other Hollisters. How he must hate the Samsons, she thought sadly, for what they were costing him now.
He glanced up and saw her, and the weariness was suddenly overlaid by bitterness.
“Hello, Bess,” he said in a faintly surprised tone, leaning back. “Is this a social visit?”
“I expect you’d be delighted to throw me off the back steps if I dared, considering the mess we’ve landed you in,” she said with what pride she had left. She moved forward and put the jewelry case down on the cluttered desk.
“What’s this?” he asked.
She folded her hands in front of her. “Great-aunt Dorie’s pearls,” she said quietly.
His eyebrows shot up. He picked up the case and opened it, revealing the creamy-pink glow of those antique, priceless pearls. His expression gave nothing away, but she sensed that she’d shocked him.
“Does your attorney know about these?” he asked curtly.
She looked away from his piercing gaze. “I didn’t think it was necessary,” she said evasively. “Dad’s enterprise cost you more than the other creditors. Those pearls will be almost enough to make up every penny.”
“These are more than collateral,” he said, closing the case and laying it on the desk. “They’re a legacy. These should go to your oldest child.”
Her eyes lingered on his chest. His blue work shirt was unbuttoned. “It’s not likely I’ll have children,” she said. “The pearls don’t matter.”
“They will to your mother,” he replied, standing. “And don’t tell me she approved of your coming here. I doubt you even told her.”
“She’s not in much condition to notice what I do,” she said uneasily.
He came around the desk slowly and perched on its edge to light a cigarette. In his half-leaning position, his jeans stretched sinuously across powerful leg muscles and narrow hips. He was devastating physically.
He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “How do you stand financially, after the other debts are paid?”
“We don’t,” she said simply. She had to fight the urge to move closer to him. He was so sensually appealing that her heart was nearly racing.
His chest rose and fell heavily. “Well, I won’t pretend it’s going to be easy, but I can make do with fifty cents on the dollar, and your attorney tells me you can manage that,” he said, watching her face color. “Yes, I’ve spoken to him already.”
“I should have guessed that you would.”
“Why bring me the pearls, then?” he asked quietly. “Didn’t you think I’d settle for what you had to give?”
She smiled. “I wasn’t sure. You’re first and foremost a businessman, and you stood to lose more than the other investors. I didn’t want to see you lose Lariat.”
“I’m not going to lose Lariat,” he said curtly. “I’ll hold on to it somehow.”
She was staring at his dusty boots. He was a hardworking man. A hard man, period. Something in him appealed to her, despite the cold, sarcastic face he presented to the world. She sometimes thought that underneath there was a man who desperately needed to be loved. But Cade Hollister would never have admitted it. No one got close to him.
He was watching those expressions drift across her young face, and they weren’t making it easy for him. Bess had worshipped him from afar for years, and knowing it had almost driven him crazy. There were so many reasons why he couldn’t give in to the barely curbed hunger he felt for her. Her mother had a hold on her that Bess didn’t seem able to break. Despite her lack of wealth now,