Beads of Doubt (32 page)

“So you’ll call Dwayne?”

“As soon as I get off the phone with you,” she said. I could tell from the brightness in her voice that she was looking forward to it. I wasn’t overly fond of Dwayne, but if he helped my friend get over Ron, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.

 

When Nate and I pulled into the driveway of the Manse
forty minutes later, preparations for the banquet were in full swing. White-jacketed caterers were lugging foil-covered trays into the kitchen, and a young woman staggered under the weight of a huge arrangement of gladiolus, lilies, and roses.

“I’ve got to go home and change, but may I escort you to the banquet tonight?” Nate asked as he pulled up by the front door.

I gazed into his dark eyes. “I can’t think of anything I’d like better,” I said. “Thanks so much for all your help today.”

“Glad I could be of service, ma’am. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Do you think you can keep out of trouble till then?”

I thought of the phone call I planned to make the moment I got inside. Would that be considered trouble? “I’ll do my best,” I said. He leaned over and gave me a last, lingering kiss before I slipped out of the Navigator and headed up the front walk. I paused at the door to watch his car as it pulled out of the driveway and headed up the street.

When I walked into the kitchen, the caterers were bustling around, and the heavenly smell of sautéed garlic filled the vanilla-colored space. Beth was already dressed, in a rose-colored chiffon dress that showed off her new curves. “You look fantastic,” I said.

“And you’d better get cracking.” As we retreated from the bustle of the kitchen to the living room, she took in my rumpled capri pants and linen top with a sweep of her eyes. “How did your meeting with the Linders go?”

“Another family taken in by Andrew’s little scheme, I’m afraid. Apparently they were here the night of the reception, but I didn’t recognize them.”

“Do you think they could have killed Andrew?”

“I only met Mrs. Linder, and she seemed somehow too . . . too weak. And her son was in a wheelchair, so there’s no way he could have gotten Andrew into that Dumpster.”

“Another dead end, then.” Beth sighed and looked at her watch. “You need to start getting ready. It’s almost five.”

“I will. I just have one more phone call to make. Did you get in touch with Dwayne?”

“He promised to run Corcoran through the computer this evening. If he finds something out, he said he’ll swing by. I haven’t said anything about the Texas hold ’em game yet, though.”

“Thanks. Let me know what he finds out.”

“And who are you calling?”

I grimaced. “Stephen. I’d rather talk to him in person, but he’s not coming to the banquet tonight, and I need to have a discussion with him before I see Houston.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought Gregg was going to do that.”

“If I play my cards right, I might not need Gregg,” I said.

When I told her what I suspected, she let out a long, low whistle. “I hope you’re right. Then again, I hope you’re
not
right.”

“Me too.”

I was about to head upstairs when Mother walked in, looking elegant in a cream satin dress and a string of delicate pearls interspersed with teal-colored tourmaline. “Kitzi, why aren’t you dressed? And have you looked at what’s going on in the conservatory? The flowers haven’t arrived yet, the caterers forgot to chill the wine, and the banquet is set to begin in less than an hour.”

“I just saw the florist on my way in, Mother. I’m sure Judy has it under control.”

Beth gently took her elbow and steered her toward the kitchen. “Why don’t I go check it out with you? That way Kitzi can go get ready.”

Mother glanced at my head on the way out the door. “I hope you can find something to wear with that hair color,” she said.

“Kitzi will look beautiful, as always,” Beth said. “Now, let’s go see what we can do about the wine.”

I shot Beth a smile of gratitude as she shepherded Mother to the kitchen. Then I climbed the stairs to my office, slid behind the desk, and dialed my brother’s number. It was only when the phone was ringing at the other end that I realized I didn’t know what I was going to say.

I’d done it again. Ready, fire, aim.

Debby answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Debby, it’s Kitzi. Is Stephen there?”

“Hang on a moment.” She put the phone down with the clunk, and I could hear Lily’s voice in the background for a minute or two before Stephen picked up.

“Kitzi?” My brother’s voice was guarded.

Suddenly I knew just what to say. To heck with the niceties. I was mad, and besides, I needed time for beautification before Nate turned up again. “Tell me, Stephen. How much was Houston planning on getting for the Manse?”

He was silent. I stared at the teal and white striped tents outside, and the people milling around on the grass, admiring the pink begonias. He was planning on selling all of this—our family history—for quick cash. Finally, he croaked, “What?”

I focused on the framed picture of my grandfather on the wall by the door. “And how much were you getting? Enough to get back together with Debby?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stuttered.

“Cut the crap, Stephen.” Before he could criticize my inappropriate language, I added, “There’s no point in lying about it. How much?”

He sighed. “We only had a preliminary market analysis done—we couldn’t do a full appraisal without involving you—but it would have been enough for me to put my family back together again. It was all for Lily . . . She needs her daddy.”

I rolled my eyes. They’d be one big happy family, all right. Right up until the day Stephen ran out of money again.

“If you had so much cash coming to you from the proceeds of the Manse, why did you ask me for a loan the other day?”

“I didn’t know how long the sale would take, and Andrew had a great investment opportunity.”

“But Andrew was dead when you asked to borrow money.”

“Houston was picking up the reins.”

I snorted. “That was big of him.”

“Kitzi,” he said, “I hope you understand . . . It was the best plan for everyone.”

“I understand, Stephen. I understand all too well. Thank you for being honest with me.” I hung up the phone and turned to look out the window. The sun was dipping low in the sky, gilding the leaves of the pecan trees. Everything looked so peaceful, so deceptively serene.

A long sigh escaped me. Money could be a blessing. It could also tear families apart.

I turned from the window and headed to my bedroom to get dressed. I still had a big night in front of me.

 

Thirty minutes isn’t much time to primp, but I did the
best I could with a bottle of hairspray. I picked an emerald green, off-the-shoulder gown from my short row of formal dresses. Since I was a redhead for the night, I figured I might as well make the most of it. I finished my makeup, slipped on the matching heels, and frowned at my reflection in the mirror. Those early morning walks hadn’t been working as well as I’d hoped. Then again, I reflected, walking doesn’t require a lot of effort on the part of your upper arms. I grabbed a wrap from the closet and looked again. Much better. Just as long as I didn’t get carried away and start throwing my arms around.

I added a malachite necklace and earrings Beth had made for me—dark green beads interspersed with black crystals and held together with a delicate silver chain—and gave myself a final once-over in the mirror. Not bad. I touched up my lipstick and swept out the door to meet Nate.

When I headed downstairs to the conservatory a few minutes later, I felt as though I were stepping into the ball-room at Cinderella’s castle. Candles flickered on white-linen-clad tablecloths, waiters bearing trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres wove through the guests already in attendance, and a swing band played Sinatra’s “Yellow Moon” from the corner. The tourmaline necklace, displayed on the fireplace where the candlesticks once resided, sparkled in the warm light.

Judy O’Bannon stopped me as I headed across the room toward Mother, who stood with Beth by the door to the living room. “Kitzi, I just wanted to thank you,” she said, eyes crinkling into a warm smile. “Everything is beautiful, and we sold so many tickets for the necklace that we’ve raised several thousand dollars more than we’d hoped.”

“I’m so glad to hear it,” I said. And I was. I was all for anything that would help Tess—and Rebecca—gain some ground.

“How’s your friend Tess?” she asked.

“Not so good. I’m afraid there’s not much anyone can do for her now.”

The glow in Judy’s eyes dimmed. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s so often the case these days. I’m hoping that will change.”

“So am I,” I said, and an image of Tess’s gaunt face passed through my mind. I took a deep breath and focused on the conservatory. “Whoever did the flowers did a marvelous job,” I said.

“I know, aren’t they beautiful? Everything is wonderful. Thank you again for letting us use the Manse.”

“Anytime, Judy.”

She glanced at her watch. “I hate to run, but I have to check on the caterers.”

“I’ll see you later, then.” As she bustled toward the kitchen doors, I started toward Mother again. I hadn’t taken two steps before someone slipped an arm around my waist.

Startled, I turned to face Nate, who had exchanged his jeans for a tuxedo that looked like it had been custom-made for him. Prince Charming in Cinderella’s castle.

“You look lovely,” he said. “May I get you a drink?”

“You bet,” I said as he steered me toward the nearest bar.

“Two Muscovitos,” he said to the bartender.

“But they don’t have Muscovito,” I pointed out. “The caterers told me it’s just chardonnay and pinot noir.”

“For you they do.” He squeezed my hand as the bartender flipped open a cooler and pulled out a bottle of my favorite wine. “After a day like today, a lady needs a glass or two of her favorite wine.”

I laughed. “You know the way to a woman’s heart, Nate Wright.”

He bent down to kiss my hand. “I’m counting on it.”

A flush of red that I’m sure clashed with my hair crept up to my cheeks. “By the way, you look great in a tux. Like Roger Moore, only cuter.”

He sipped his wine, eyes glinting. “Maybe I should have ordered a martini.”

“Shaken . . .”

“Not stirred,” he finished. “Now, shall we mingle? Or would you prefer to find a quiet corner for two?”

My eyes scanned the room, stopping at a perfect platinum blonde in a pale blue dress. Rebecca. Next to her stood Houston, a protective arm around her thin frame.

“I think I’ll opt for the quiet corner,” I said, “but first I have talk to my cousin for a moment. Do you think you can keep Rebecca occupied for a minute or two?”

“Houston’s wife?” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “What are you up to, Miss Kitzi?”

I told him some of the truth, but not all of it. “There’s something I need to discuss with Houston, and I’d prefer Rebecca wasn’t there to hear it.”

“Isn’t that why you hired Gregg?” He was beginning to sound like Beth.

“I just need five minutes,” I said.

“As my lady commands,” he said, and followed me through the crowd to Houston and Rebecca.

My cousin’s mouth tightened when he saw me headed toward him, and he bent down to whisper something to Rebecca. She nodded, and the two of them glided away, but I picked up the pace and cut them off.

“Rebecca,” I said, “you look lovely. Blonde really does suit you!”

She laughed, and I was relieved to see a warmth in her cheeks that came from more than makeup. Maybe she was on the upswing.

“We’ve exchanged hair colors! You look great as a redhead.”

“I guess everyone needs a change of pace sometimes.”

“I just got word back from the doctor today—my numbers are down.”

“That’s great!” I said. That meant the treatment was working.

“I knew we’d beat it.” She beamed.

Relief poured through me, and I gave her a quick hug. “I am so glad—I can’t tell you how glad.”

“No kidding,” she said. “I’ll be back to red hair in no time!”

I gave her shoulder a last squeeze and put my hand on my cousin’s arm. “Rebecca, could you spare Houston for a moment? I have something I want to show him.”

Before Houston could protest, I entwined my arm with his and guided him toward the door.

“What can I help you with, Kitzi?” Houston asked
when I closed the living-room door behind us. My eyes slid to the empty sofa table where the candlesticks once stood.

“Houston,” I said quietly, “how much were you planning on getting for the Manse?”

“What?” His eyes skittered around the room. He looked like a trapped animal. “What are you talking about?”

“I know all about the plan to sell the house and turn it into a museum.” He stared at me, speechless. To tell the truth, it was kind of weird seeing him without anything to say. “How much money do you owe, Houston? And what did Sandy Corcoran promise you if you picked up Andrew’s investment scheme?”

The blood drained out of my cousin’s handsome face, and he swept a nervous hand over his silver hair. “How did you find all this out?” Suddenly his eyes narrowed. “The flashlight in my office . . .” He shook his index finger at me. “You broke in. While I was with the police, you broke in. That’s illegal, you know.”

Well, maybe it was, but I decided that was beside the point. “It doesn’t matter. I talked with Stephen today, and he confirmed it.”

Houston’s mouth was a thin line, and he looked pale under his tennis-court tan.

“You were awfully nervous Thursday night. Jumpy.” Houston started to say something, but I interrupted him. “Some of the people you owe money to were here, weren’t they? They were starting to put pressure on you.”