Linda Warren - On The Texas Border

Shyly, he raised his green eyes. “You think so?”

“Earl.” She sighed. “Have you looked at your driver’s license lately?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Look at the date of birth. It will tell you that you’re way overdue for a serious relationship.”

“Aw, shucks, Abby, it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because Mother doesn’t know I’ve been seeing Carol. She lives in McAllen and works for an attorney. I’ve been helping him with legal matters in the valley, and Carol and I…well, you know.” His face actually glowed a vivid pink.

“I don’t see a problem,” Abby said.

“Mother doesn’t know I’ve been seeing her,” he repeated.

“Still don’t see a problem.”

“Carol has a five-year-old daughter.”

Big problem. Aunt Sybil was going to have a fit.

“If you care for this woman and the child, tell Aunt Sybil and don’t give her a chance to talk you out of it. Just do it, like the saying goes.”

“You see things so realistically, but I’m all that Mother has and I—”

“Earl, you talk as if Aunt Sybil is in her eighties. She’s fifty-nine and teaches school. She drives and plays bridge on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It’s not like she’s housebound and depends on you for everything.”

“But—”

“And she’s not alone. She has a brother, a sister and other relatives that live in Hope.”

“Yes, yes, she does.” Earl was gaining confidence. “She might even like Carol and her daughter.”

“That’s it, Earl, go for the brass ring or the gold ring or whatever the hell it’s called. Go for it.”

He smiled weakly. “You’re good for my ego.”

She scooted forward. “Good, because I came in here for a favor.”

“Need a lawyer, huh?”

“Something like that,” she admitted, and told him what she wanted him to do. His eyes grew bigger and bigger, and any minute she thought they would pop out onto his desk. He finally pulled out a handkerchief and wiped sweat from his forehead.

“I don’t know, Abby, I don’t like going against Brewster.”

“You won’t be going against him,” she assured him. “You’ll just be helping me.”

“I don’t know.”

“I promise that Simon Brewster won’t annihilate you.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Earl, just help me, okay?” She couldn’t keep the aggravation out of her voice.

Earl frowned, and she wanted to reach across the desk and smack him. “Tell you what.” She tried another tactic. “If you help me with Mr. Brewster, I’ll help you with Aunt Sybil.”

Earl smiled his partial smile. “That won’t work,” he told her. “Since your divorce, Mother thinks you’re a loose woman.”

She almost screeched “What!” in that high-pitched voice she’d heard her mother use earlier. But she immediately calmed herself. She didn’t care what Aunt Sybil thought. She was a narrow-minded, spiteful person. But you do care, that little voice inside her whispered. A woman who had never failed—who had achieved everything she’d ever wanted—was now a failure. It took a moment to recover, then her spirit came soaring back.

She wasn’t a loose woman. Where had that come from? She opened her mouth to give Earl her scathing opinion, when he spoke.

“Don’t get all worked up.”

“Okay, Earl, you help me, and I won’t rip out your mother’s tongue by the roots.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re volatile?”

“Yes.”

“Heavens, I wish I had some of your grit.”

“If you did, you’d have a divorce behind you and an aunt who thinks you’re loose.”

He tried his smile again. “All right, I’ll help you, but if things get rough, I’m gone.”

“Coward.”

“Yeah, and I have a yellow stripe down my back to prove it.”

“Just keep your clothes on so no one will see it.” She fished in her purse for her cell phone and called the hospital.

“You make me smile, Abby.”

“Remember that and we’ll get through this.”

She talked to a nurse and told her to inform Mr. Brewster that she was on her way. She dropped the phone into her purse and glanced at Earl. “Follow me to the hospital. It’s show time.”

JONAS STOOD AT THE FOOT of Brewster’s bed, trying to figure out this man he’d known for years, but he knew he was wasting his time. There was no figuring out Brewster.

“What are you doing here?” Brewster barked when he noticed him. “Don’t you have trucks to load?”

“Stuart and Juan are supervising the loading, and Perry’s in the office until noon. He has that computer class this afternoon and tomorrow. They can handle things until I get back.”

Brewster pushed a button and raised his bed slightly. A nurse immediately adjusted his pillow. “I’m not sure about Perry. He doesn’t seem to be working out. Fire him and start looking for another accountant.”

Jonas took a patient breath. He had been expecting this. It had been the pattern since Abe left. Jonas had decided he wasn’t going through this again.

“I’m not firing Perry. He’s a good accountant, and he’s returned to Hope with his family to be near his aging parents. He needs the job, and I trust him. Besides, you just paid for these computer courses.”

Brewster’s eyes narrowed. “You take orders from me—or have you forgotten?”

“Not for a minute,” Jonas answered swiftly. “If you want to fire Perry, you’ll have to do it yourself and also find someone to replace him. I’m not doing it again.”

“You’re getting too big for your boots, boy.”

“You can always fire me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Brewster asked smugly. “But it’s not gonna happen.” He paused, then asked, “So you trust this Perry?”

“Yes,” Jonas replied.

“I’ll think about it” was the response. “Now, I want to talk about something else.”

“Unless it’s important, I want to get back to the loading docks.”

“Yes, dammit, it’s important. I want you to go with Abigail to Mexico.”

Jonas gritted his teeth. “I thought I made my position very clear on that subject.”

“Yes, you did,” Brewster acknowledged sardonically. “Now I’m going to make mine clear. Bottom line—you’re going. You can buck it, fight it all you want, but you’re going.”

Jonas gritted his teeth harder. But they both knew he’d give in. It was part of their agreement, and Jonas always tried to live up to his word. This time, though, it wasn’t easy.

Brewster broke into his thoughts. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Jonas. She’s a very nice-looking woman, and I don’t want her crossing the border alone.”

Jonas met Brewster’s eyes. “Abigail Duncan can take care of herself,” he said in a hard tone.

“Yes, yes, she can,” Brewster acknowledged. “But you’re still going.”

Jonas’s eyes never wavered. “Then, why get her involved? I can find the girl on my own.”

“Dammit, Jonas, do you have to question everything I tell you?” Brewster snapped. “Abigail has to be there. It’s the ending to my book, and I want her to witness it firsthand.”

“I see.” Jonas sighed. “Well, I guess that makes sense. Still—”

“Go with Abigail and find Delores, and get back as fast as you can.”

If he had to do this, Jonas reasoned—and there didn’t seem to be a way out—then he would at least get something out of Brewster. “I’m still not sure there is a daughter,” Jonas said, “but since you insist, I’ll go on two conditions.”

“Don’t try to bargain with me, Jonas.”

Jonas continued. “I want a raise for Stuart and Juan. They haven’t had one in two years. And Perry stays.”