Jeff Abbott - Only Good Yankee

I’m sure it’d make Lorna feel better.” Lorna gave Candace such a look of gratitude that I felt like hugging them both. “That’s a great idea, Candace. I’m sure he can spare someone,” I said, and went to make the call. Junebug said he’d send over Franklin Bedloe to serve as a guard.

He also told me that Teresa Garza was going to come back to town tomorrow to look over the damage at the Mirabeau B. Lamar. He sounded exhausted, so I wished him a quick good-night. I think he wasn’t the only one worn-out. The folks in my living room looked like death warmed over. Candace announced that she was ready to turn in. She wished Mark, Sister, and Lorna a good evening and thanked Sister for the dinner. I offered to walk her out to her car. She leaned against my good arm as we approached her Mercedes. The faint glow in the sky that had come from the burning antebellum home was gone, replaced by a smudge of smoke that stars shimmered softly behind. “Thanks for the suggestion about getting protection for Lorna,” I said. She slid her hand into my back jeans pocket as we walked. “Protection for all of you while she’s in your house,” Candace answered softly. She wasn’t looking at me, but staring down the street. “I’m sorry Eula Mae decided to interfere and try to get Lorna to go.” “Eula Mae loves to get involved in her little causes. I’m just sorry I always seem to be one of them.” “Eula Mae would never admit it, Jordy, but she loves you like a little brother. She’s always going to interfere-that’s how she shows her affection.” I nuzzled her neck. “And how do you show your affection?” She put a hand up to my chest and pushed me away, but gently. “I don’t exactly feel like a public display of affection when you’re going back into that house where you’ve ensconced your old girlfriend.” “Wait a minute, honey. You know that it’s for her own good.” “I don’t doubt Lorna does anything that’s not for her own good,” Candace said dryly. She slid her hand out from my back pocket, where it had felt oh-so-comfortable, and crossed her arms. “You’re not jealous of her, Candace. You can’t be.” “She’s funny. She’s smart.

She’s gorgeous. She’s loud, too, but I’ve seen the way that you look at her. You’re still attracted to her, and please don’t insult my intelligence by denying it.” “Okay, I won’t. Yes, I find her attractive. But not as attractive as you.” I’m not good at undying protestations of love and I felt coltish and awkward. “Lorna and I are past, okay. For God’s sake, don’t you trust me around her?” “I trust you, but not her.” She shook her head. “What is the hold she has on you, Jordy? She’s conceivably putting your whole family in danger by staying here and yet you roll out the red carpet.” “If you trust me, then you shouldn‘t have a problem with this.” My heart ached at the pain on her face. “Okay. I love you enough to trust you around her.

But I still don’t have to like her staying here.” “She’s my friend, and I’m not going to abandon her right now.” “That’s right. Put everyone else ahead of your own interests.” Candace yanked open her car door. I didn’t have a decent reply, so I stayed silent. She stood on tiptoe, I leaned down, and we exchanged a quick, dry kiss. “Sleep well,” she said, and drove off. I love you enough to trust you around her, she’d said. She told me she’d loved me, but I’d been unable to reciprocate the words. My front teeth gnashed on my lip, still warm from her kiss, and I turned and went back into the house. Mark had been dispatched to bed. His complaints about being treated like an infant filtered down from upstairs. Sister, softening toward our guest in light of this latest trauma, had kindly offered to run Lorna a bath. The gurgling noise of the water in the pipes reminded me of when Mama had run baths for Sister and me when we were little. (This activity was usually followed by her chasing a naked me around the house and forcibly putting me in the tub.) Lorna was sitting, staring down at a colorful quilt that my grandmother Schneider had made decades ago. Her fingers traveled across the patterns and stitches, as though tracing a road on a map. “This is really lovely, Jordan,” she said, not looking up at me. “You’re lucky to have such keepsakes in your family. The Wiercinskis were never big on keepsakes.” “Are you okay, Lorna?” I asked. Her voice had taken on a distance I didn’t like. “I am. I think I am.” She looked up at me. I could still get lost in the whirlpools of her eyes. “I don’t know what to think. Greg being dead, and all his lies. Now Freddy being blown to bits in Greg’s room. It makes no sense.” “We need to talk.” Sister came halfway down the stairs, peering over the railing. “I drew a bath for you, hon.

It’s nice and warm.” “We’ll talk when you’re done,” I said. She nodded and went upstairs. The doorbell rang and it was Franklin, ready to watch over Lorna and the rest of us. I invited him inside. “How does this work, Franklin? You want to sleep on the couch, or do you sit out in your cruiser and watch the house, or what?” “I never guarded anyone like this before,” he confessed. “I think it’d be okay if I stayed down in the living room, if that’s all right by you.” He didn’t look pleased at the prospect of spending an entire night in his police car.

I couldn’t blame him. Sister showed him where all the sandwich fixings were in the fridge. (“Now, you just help yourself if you get hungry, Franklin. I made that chocolate pie myself and you just can’t get better.”) Franklin looked pretty pleased at the provisions and promised he’d clean up any mess he made. Sister warned him repeatedly not to shoot Mama in case she wandered downstairs in the night.

Franklin assured her he wouldn’t. I took two beers upstairs to Lorna’s room when she finished her bath. She had toweled her long hair as dry as she could, but it still hung in a damp cascade around her shoulders. The hot water had pinkened her skin, so she looked more relaxed than I’d seen her since she’d got to town. She wore a simple white robe that fortunately went down to her knees. I remembered a red silk one she’d had, far skimpier, that used to fall off at my touch. I was glad she hadn’t packed that one for this trip. “We need to talk, Lorna.” I handed her a beer. She nodded and sipped at her Celis bock.

“First of all, I believe you when you say you didn’t know about Greg’s plan to resell the land to the chemical company.” She gave me an unreadable look. “It means so much to me to have your trust, Jordan.”

Her voice wasn’t unreadable; it dripped with sarcasm. That word trust again. I tried not to visualize Candace’s wounded face in the moonlight. “Look, I was upset. You can imagine how I felt, especially when it seemed you’d lied to me about using my land.” “I still don’t see how you could have thought I’d lied,” she snapped. “Let’s not argue,” I pleaded. “We need to work this mess through. Now, what was your impression of Freddy Jacksill?” Lorna paused and took a slow sip of her beer. “You know, I remember being surprised when I found out you were originally from a small town; you were worldly in certain respects. But Freddy was exactly what you expected from someone from a little town; he was anxious to be the biggest fish in the bowl. More blustery than self-assured. He was very eager to please Greg, keep him happy. I’m sure that Greg filled Freddy’s head with all sorts of garbage about how much money was to be made when Intraglobal acquired the land.” “Who’s going to take over Greg’s assignments at Intraglobal now that he’s dead?” Lorna opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Well, no one. I mean, maybe me, but the company’s nothing without Greg. Unless Doreen Miller wants to keep it going. I don’t think Greg was working on any other deals right now.” “Surely there’s another senior person…” She shook her head. “Greg didn’t like to discuss it when he was out closing a deal, but he’s Intraglobal all by his lonesome. It’s basically a one-man consulting service with a silent partner. Her name’s Doreen Miller; she put up a bunch of the money for Greg.” “Good Lord, Lorna. The name Intraglobal makes it sound like they’re two steps shy of world domination, not a one-man shop.” She smiled. “I know. I told Greg it was a little misleading, but he said it made us sound more professional.” “Have you talked with this Doreen Miller, told her about Greg’s death?” Lorna shook her head. “I don’t know how to get in touch with her. Greg said she was old Boston money;