Sarah Jo's bedroom in Kentucky had been duplicated at
her Texas home, down to the silk cord tiebacks on the drapes.
When the house had been built, she had agreed to let Angus
have his heavy, dark furniture, his red leather upholstery,
and his hunting trophies in other rooms, but she had flatly
refused to let his revolting frontier motif defile their bedroom.
Cheerfully, he had agreed. He liked her fussy, feminine,
frilly things around him at night. He'd often told her that if
he'd wanted to marry a cowgirl, he wouldn't have had to go
all the way to Kentucky to find one.
"Mother, may I come in?" Junior opened the bedroom
door after a tentative knock.
"Darling, please do." Sarah Jo smiled, evidently quite
pleased over her son's visit.
Junior found her propped up on a mountain of satin pillows,
wearing a lace night jacket, smelling of expensive face cream,
and reading the biography of some foreign statesman of whom
he'd never heard. He'd never even heard of the country from
which the man hailed. Probably no one except his mother
had.
She took off her reading glasses, laid the book aside, and
patted the quilted satin comforter. With a brisk shake of his
head, Junior declined to sit down. Instead he remained standing
at the foot of the bed, hands in pockets, jingling change,
resenting this nightly ritual that was a carryover from his
childhood.
Long ago, he'd outgrown the need or desire to kiss his
mother good night, but Sarah Jo continued to expect it. Her
feelings would be hurt if he didn't. He and Angus went out
of their way to spare Sarah Jo's feelings, which were always
tenuous.
"It always smells good in here," he commented for lack
of anything else to say. The dressing down he'd received in
front of Alex still smarted. He was impatient to leave the
house and go to one of the local nightspots where he wouldn't
have to concentrate on his problems.
"Sachets. I keep them in all my drawers and closets. When
I was a girl, we had a maid who made them from crushed
dried flowers and herbs. They smelled wonderful," she said
reminiscently. "Now I have to order them. They use artificial
scents in them these days, but I still think they're pretty."
"How's the book?" Junior was already bored with the
subject of sachets.
"Quite interesting."
He seriously doubted it, but he smiled down at her. "Good.
I'm glad you're enjoying it."
Sarah Jo sensed his melancholy mood. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I can tell when something's wrong."
"Nothing out of the ordinary. I got on Dad's bad side by
interrupting his discussion with Alex."
Sarah Jo made a moue of displeasure. "Your father still
hasn't learned how to conduct himself when there's company
in the house. If he can be rude enough to cart a guest out of
the living room during the cocktail hour, you can be rude
enough to interrupt a discussion."
She bobbed her head as though she had said her piece and
that settled the matter. "What were they discussing so privately,
anyway?"
"Something about her mother's death," he said nonchalantly.
"Nothing to worry about."
"Are you sure? Everybody seemed so tense tonight."
"If there's any cause for alarm, Dad'll take care of it, the
way he always does. It's certainly nothing for you to worry
about."
He had no intention of telling his mother about Alex's
investigation. The men in Sarah Jo's life knew she hated
being exposed to anything upsetting or unpleasant, and protected
her from it.
Angus never discussed business with her, especially when
it was bad. She was disappointed when their horses didn't
perform well at the track and celebrated when they did, but
beyond that, neither the ranch, nor any of the subsidiary
companies comprising Minton Enterprises, held much interest
for her.
Indeed, nothing held much interest for Sarah Jo, with the
possible exception of Junior. She was like a beautiful doll,
sealed inside a sterile room, never exposed to light or any
other corrupting element--especially life itself.
Junior loved his mother, but recognized that she wasn't
well liked. By contrast, everybody liked Angus. A few of
his friends' wives, out of loyalty and obligation, were friendly
to Sarah Jo. if not for them, she wouldn't have any acquaintances
in Purcell at all.
She'd certainly never gone out of her way to cultivate a
friendship. She thought most of the locals were vulgar and
coarse, and she made no attempt to conceal her low opinion
of them. She seemed perfectly content to reside in this room,
surrounded by the soft, pretty, uncomplicated things she liked
and understood best.
Junior knew she was the object of derision and gossip. It
was said that she drank. She didn't, except for two glasses
of wine before dinner. Some, who didn't understand her
delicate sensibilities, thought she was odd. Others thought
she was just plain "off."
Admittedly, she was distracted a good deal of the time, as
though mentally reliving the privileged childhood she treasured.
She had never quite recovered from the premature
death of a beloved brother, and had still been mourning it
when she had met Angus.
Junior wondered if she had married his father to escape
unpleasant memories. He could find no other grounds for two
such mismatched people to base a marriage.
Junior was eager to get on his way to having a good time,
but he lengthened tonight's visit, curious to know his mother's
opinion of their guest that evening. "What did you think of
her?"
"Who, Celina's daughter?" Sarah Jo asked absently. Her
brows drew together into a slight frown. "She's very attractive
physically, though I don't find such flamboyant coloring
flattering to a woman."
Thoughtfully, she fingered the fine lace on the bodice of
her bed jacket. "She's certainly intense, isn't she? Much
more serious-minded than her mother. Celina was a silly little
thing, God knows. As I recall, she was always laughing."
She paused and cocked her head to one side, as though listening
to distant laughter. "I don't remember ever seeing that
girl when she wasn't laughing."