I dont know if I can, Matt answered truthfully.
You damn sure better try!
Fuck you, Matt said, and turned, yanking the door open.
Where are you going? Tom barked.
Where the hell do you think? To talk to Rebecca! he shouted over his shoulder.
Thursday morning, Matt called the office and asked Harold to reschedule his appointments, as something persona! and pressing had come up.
But, Mr. Parrish! Harold cried into the phone. You have that motion to compel in front of Gambofini on the Rosenberg case. If you miss that
Harold. Please reschedule, he said calmly, knowing full well that Harold was right his ass was grass as far as Gambofini was concerned, having been told no less than two dozen times that if he screwed up again, hed personally work to see Matt disbarred. Of course, Gambofini threatened that each time Matt was before him, so he wasnt really too worried, at least not this time. He was more wor-tied about Ben, actually, because he usually made good on his threats to kick his ass.
Nevertheless, he had more important matters on hand at the moment. He changed into a pair of Levis, a white cotton button down, and his black ostrich boots that matched his belt, put his cell and pager on his dresser, and left his penthouse. In the garage, he put the top down on his Jag
and shoved some Maui Jims on his face. It was a gorgeous day, and if he was going to go search the Highland Lakes area for one royally pissed off Miss Texas just so she could hand his head to him on a platter, he was at least going to enjoy the drive out.
When the phone rang, Rebecca was wearing a cut-off T-shirt and jean shorts over a two piece bathing suit, and had just fought off a horde of bees she had inadvertently discovered in the old barn she had decided to convert into an art studio . .. depending on how things looked once she got all the junk out. Hello? she said breathlessly, using the cordless handset to swat at one last attacking bee as she backed out of the barn.
Bec? Whats the matter?
Nothing, Dad, she grunted, swatting one last time as pulled the barn door shut Just cleaning out the barn. So whats up?
Does something have to be up for me to talk to my daughter?
Honestly, thats what she preferred, and in general, didnt most people have a purpose when they phoned? Of course not. But you usually dont call just to discuss the weather.
So have you heard from your mom? he asked, and Rebecca suppressed a groan. Not in a couple of weeks. She was talking about going to Chicago to work on a project for a national charity. Maybe she went. Dad made a sound of disapproval. Shes been really busy, Rebecca added in her moms defense.
Oh, yeah? Well, she wasnt too busy to box up the flowers I sent her and return them to me dead!
Rebecca lifted her brows in surprise. She did that? she asked, incredulous. Way to go, Mom!
Dad muttered something she couldnt quite catch, and then, Wheres Grayson?
Hes with Jo Lynn.
Figures. By the way, I heard from your ex today.
That stopped her cold. Why in Gods name would he call Dad? She had heard from her ex three days ago, and that was enough to last a lifetime. You re weak, Rebecca, he had offered out of nowhere. You quit in the middle of Toms campaign like a kid and left him in a bind. What the hell is the matter with you ?
Why in the hell did he call you? she asked, perturbed.
To tell me that you quit whats-his-names campaign. Right in the middle of it, he said. Just up and left them in a bind. Is that true?
Sort of, she said slowly. So what did you say?
I told him to mind his own goddamn business. What do you think I said? I dont know who the hell he thinks he is, but hes got some balls to call me up and say anything about xou, thats for damn sure!
With a smile, Rebecca sank onto the broad stump of an oak that had been chopped down years ago. Thanks, Dad.
Dont thank me Ive always hated that bastard. Whyd you quit, anyway?
Because, she sighed. I wasnt working in the direction that the, ah . . . the senior member of the team wanted to go. And it became apparent that we didnt see eye to eye, so I thought it was best if I just took what I had learned and moved on.
Dad didnt say anything for a moment. Did you leave them in a bind?
Well... a little one, I guess. I was planning a big fund-raising event
Bud mentioned it. A statewide affair with entertainment and lots of big names, right?
Yes, she said, perplexed that Bud was calling Dad with all this information. What is Buds problem, anyway?
I dont know. Said this guy is a good friend of his. Sounded like the guy was pressuring him and I guess Buds embarrassed. He ought to be embarrassed hes a Democrat. Nevertheless, Rebecca, did I not teach you anything? he asked. Like not giving up when youve given someone your word? Your word is your bond, and if you dont honor it, what have you got?
God, she was tired of her father. So quick to judge, so quick to criticize, without even knowing what had happened. Rebecca looked up at the tops of the blackjack oaks, realized she had finally reached the point where she just didnt want to hear it anymore and was finally willing to say so. Dad? Could you, just once, call and ask how I am doing without lecturing me? I honor my word. I did what I could for Tom, but in the end, it wasnt what they needed
Well, according to Buddy-boy, your pal needed the fund-raiser. Now listen, if you told him you were going to do this thing, then you need to do this thing. You cant get a job if youre a quitter. And besides, I told you to call me the next time you had something to show. Wasnt I getting an invitation?
Her pulse was pounding now. She grit her teeth, thought about all the times Robin had bitched about the old man. I hadnt planned on it, she said evenly.
What? he asked, clearly surprised. Why wouldnt I get an invitation?
Because all you have done is criticize my involvement to begin with.
Thats not true! he said angrily.
And now that Bud Reynolds has called you up after what, two years, to tell you I am not behaving like he wants me to behave, you have turned around and called to lecture me. You have called up without knowing the facts to tell me what Im doing wrong again. Well, thanks, she said sharply. Thanks for your expert advice on every little thing in my life. Now youve delivered it, so good-bye! she said, and clicked off the phone. And dropped it on the grass like a hot potato.
She was getting pretty ballsy with this hang-up business now her father? She sat there staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring again, waiting for Dad to build up a head of steam and fry her right to the tree stump.
But the phone didnt ring.
Very carefully, Rebecca leaned over, picked it up with two fingers, then hurried toward the house, almost throwing it on the back porch in her haste to get away from it. She stood there a moment longer, certain it would ring, and could picture Dad, his face red with rage no way could he live without having the last word!
But the damn thing didnt ring, which was entirely too spooky ... and also liberating when she thought about it, and she did a small victory pump for the real Rebecca shining through.
Right. But just in case he did call back ... Rebecca pivoted on her bare heel, swiped up a beach towel from the padded wicker furniture, and stomped off with her new bad self toward the river to join Grayson and Jo Lynn.
Those two had apparently given up the frog hunt, for they were sitting, side by side, on the edge of the dock, their legs swinging freely beneath them over the river. Mind if I join you? Rebecca asked as she took a seat next to Grayson.
Hows that barn coming? Jo Lynn asked.
Full of bees and lots of junk. Its going to take some work.
Ah, well. Cant sit around, so you might as well work. We were just going up for ice cream. You want some? she asked as Grayson put on his sandals.
No, thanks. Im going in for a swim. Jo Lynn? If the phone rings, dont answer it, okay?
Jo Lynn looked at her curiously. Rebecca gave her a halfhearted shrug. Okay, she said, and took Graysons hand, led him up the grassy slope to the house.
Matt stopped at Sams Corner Grocery in Ruby Falls, bought a pack of gum and two huge bouquets of roses, which he pieced together as one. He asked the checker (a big girl who, in her smock, reminded him of a Red Delicious apple), if she knew Rebecca Lear. Sweetie, everyone knows Rebecca Lear, she said.
Miss Texas 1990, right? he asked as he handed her a fiver for his purchase.
Huh? she asked, squinting up at him beneath a mound of teased hair.
She was Miss Texas 1990, he clarified.
The woman, whose name tag read Dinah, gasped, slapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes grew wide. She was? she squealed, and immediately whipped around to the only other checker in the store. Did you hear that. Karen? Rebecca Lear you know, that real pretty girl that lives down on the old Peckinpaugh ranch? She was Miss Texas!
Miss Texas? Karen cried. Youre kidding!
Both women looked at Matt to see if he was kidding. Im not, he quickly assured them.
How come she never told us? Karen demanded of him.
I. ah ... I dont know why she didnt. I thought thats what you meant when you said everyone knew her.
Oh, no, Dinah said cheerfully as she handed him his change and receipt. I meant because of the dogs.
Old man Abbot just shoots them strays, you know that? Karen said while she used her little finger as a toothpick.
Oh, he does not! Dinah exclaimed.
Does too, Karen insisted.
Ahem ... if you can just point me toward her house? Matt asked.
Dinah spared him a glance Straight down fourteen oh six, big stone fence and wrought iron gate right after the cemetery before beginning to argue Karens source of information on old man Abbot.
Matt ducked out, found the cemetery and old stone fence easy enough, the old wrought iron gate, too, just like Dinah had said. But Dinah hadnt mentioned the flying pig on top of one of the stone gate pillars. It looked fairly new. And big. And not very Rebecca-ish.
Fortunately, the gate was open, so Matt turned onto the narrow gravel road, drove slowly through a thicket of trees, mesquite, and cactus, until he rounded a bend and saw an
old ranch house limestone, one story, lots of crankcase windows, and a big wraparound porch. Along the front railings were a smattering of azalea bushes, still blooming even thought it was late in the season. In two old cast iron kettles, several antique rosebushes were blooming white and pink. On one end of the porch was an old wooden porch swing, the white paint chipping and peeling, and on the other end, tasteful and expensive wicker furniture.
The house looked very charming. Just like its owner.
Matt pulled up, killed the motor, gathered the roses, and climbed out of the Jag, at which point he noticed that what looked like dirt and mulch between the azaleas were actually lumps of dogs, three in all, who were now rising to their feet to greet him in true dog fashion by charging forward. A big, mean-looking, one-eyed yellow dog charged the hardest at him, fangs bared and fur standing. Matt thought he was going to have to dive headfirst into his car for safety, but the dog ran smack into the front fender, stumbled backward a bit, then sat. And that, apparently, ended his desire for a manwich.
The other two dogs, however, one black, one red brindle, had better navigational skills than Old Yeller and raced around their stunned compatriot, barking fiercely. Matt put one hand down, fumbled with the roses, and looked at the porch. Hey, hey! Come on, Frank! Come on, Bean! Tater and Tot, which ones are you? he asked, his voice friendly and light. It worked. The dogs instantly started wagging their tales, sniffing at his crotch and shoes, and were joined by a little three-legged dog that came racing around the corner of the house. Even the yellow one found his bearings again and came wandering over to have a good sniff.
Thrilled to make your acquaintance, Matt said to the dogs, and once he was assured no one was going to bite him, he walked up onto the porch, ducking under a wind chime made from old forks and spoons to knock on the door. The dogs all stood behind him, tails wagging, as if they had accompanied him all the way from Austin.
Hearing footsteps and muffled voices, Matt saw a figure
behind the opaque glass of the door and steeled himself, adjusting the roses in his arm. But when the door was opened, it was not Rebecca. For a split second, Matt thought he had the wrong house ... until he remembered meeting the older woman at the bingo bash. Ah ... hi. I think we met at the Masters fund-raiser
I remember. Matt, right?
Right. I... I cant
Jo Lynn.
Jo Lynn, of course, he said. I was looking for Rebecca . . do I have
MAAAATT! Grayson shrieked from somewhere in the house, and Matt heard the sound of small feet running across wood floors. MAAAAATT! he shrieked again as he came skidding into the foyer behind Jo Lynn.
Hey, pal! Matt said, grinning down at an anxious little face smeared with chocolate ice cream, surprised by how glad he was to see the boy.
Judging by the way Grayson roughly pushed in front of Jo Lynn, he was pretty glad to see Matt, too, and clasped his hands, stared at him almost pleadingly. Are you coining back? he asked breathlessly. Me and Jo Lynn looked for frogs but we didnt find any. Can we go frog hunting? Are you going to stay here?
Yikes. Matt smiled uneasily at Jo Lynn, who was now eyeballing him with a very curious expression, and he quickly squatted down to talk to Gray. Dude. You cant hunt for frogs in the heat of the day! You have to wait until it cools off. Thais when they come out to have a look around.
Okay. Can we hunt when it cools off?
Maybe. Provided his mother didnt send his body floating down the river or hang it from the cottonwood he had seen towering above the house in back. Well see.
Want some ice cream? Gray continued breathlessly, and put his sticky hand on Matts, tugging him inside.