Gift of Fortune (21 page)

in the weeks that followed, Aileen was busy with school,
with her garden, and with surreptitiously watching her
handsome husband. Watching and waiting for some sign
from him that he considered her as more than a partner and
friend. But since the incident with Steve and the flash of
jealousy, nothing else had happened. Maybe she'd been
wrong about Quint being jealous.

Aileen sighed, something she was doing a lot of lately.

She poured the green beans into the bowl of ice water
to stop the cooking process. She had blanched them in
preparation for freezing them.

"Hey, Aileen, are you in the kitchen?"

"Jennifer? Come on in. I didn't hear your car drive up."

"I'm not surprised. All these fans make a lot of noise."

"You brought the baby. Hi there, sweetie. I'd take you,
but my blouse is all damp and sweaty." Aileen patted the
baby's cheek.

"It's like a steam bath in here," Jennifer said. "What are
you doing?"

"Getting green beans ready for the freezer."

"Isn't that what you did last week too?"

"Well, yes. I staggered the plantings so the vegetables
wouldn't all ripen at the same time."

"I can't believe you're doing all this. Not even your
mother did this much."

"She did, but she had Martha to help her," Aileen said.

"So where's Martha?"

"Her married daughter is having a rough pregnancy, so
Martha flew to Ohio to be with her."

"Tough break," Jennifer said. "Can I help?"

"Thanks, but freezing and canning is an almost daily
chore now. I got carried away when I was planting. Want
some green beans?"

"No, thanks. I'm perfectly happy buying them from the
store, already in a can or a frozen package. Do you have
to harvest all of them?"

"I'm letting some of them dry on the plants."

"But don't you have to pick those and shell them?"

"Yes, but not until the fall."

"When school's in session you'll have even less time for
housework." Jennifer studied her friend. "Whatever happened to you and Quint going out with us on Saturday
nights?"

"We did go."

"Once. I thought you two enjoyed the evening."

"We did. It was fun."

"Then why haven't you joined us again?" Jennifer demanded.

Aileen sighed. "There's just so much work right now.
The hay was ready to be mowed, the oats will be ripe next,
there are always vegetables that need to be picked or weeds
to be pulled. And there's summer school-"

"And you're dead tired. Aileen, watch it or you'll turn
into a drudge. You know, one of those ranch women who are faded and worn-out by the time they're forty and look
like they're sixty. And all the time their husbands look
years younger and develop a roving eye for every young
waitress, barmaid, or what have you in the county."

Aileen paused in the act of wiping down the counter.
Before she could say anything, Quint entered the kitchen.
Dismayed, Aileen wondered how much he'd overheard.
She couldn't tell from his expression, which was cordial
and polite as he greeted Jennifer and patted the baby's hair.

"Want a glass of iced tea?" Aileen asked Jennifer.

"No, thanks. I gotta be going. I just came by to remind
you about the special band that'll be at The Black Hat on
Saturday. Hope you guys can come."

Quint held the door open for her and escorted her out.

Aileen braced her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink.
Jennifer's words had hit her hard. Was she turning into a
drudge? She hadn't ironed, much less starched, the blouse
she wore. No wonder it hung damply, limply from her
shoulders. And her hair? She'd pulled it into a ponytail
when she'd come home from school. But that was hours
ago. By now, rebellious strands had escaped the rubber
band and drooped around her face. She felt hot, untidy,
unattractive. And Quint had seen her like that. Worse, he'd
undoubtedly heard Jennifer's words. He would now carry
the image of her as a future drudge. Great. Just great.

Quint returned. Aileen busied herself scrubbing the
kitchen sink.

"I'm glad Jennifer came by to remind us about Saturday.
I hadn't realized how long it's been since we had a night
out," Quint said. "Aileen? Is something wrong?"

She shrugged.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.
"It's about what Jennifer said, isn't it? Aileen, you'll never
turn into a drudge. You're too intelligent for that. And you've got the kind of face that'll look good at any age."
He traced her cheekbones. "About Jennifer's other claim?
She's way off base. I won't develop a roving eye."

Aileen couldn't look at him.

"I'm not like Jack."

"I hope not," she murmured. Her adoptive father had
been a cold, reserved man who hadn't seemed to care about
anyone. Well, maybe her mother. A little. Would Quint
ever care about her, really care? Sometimes she thought he
might, and at other times she despaired he ever would. She
just didn't know. And she didn't know how to make him
care.

The blast of a truck horn startled her. "The men are waiting for you."

"They can wait. I have the feeling that something's
wrong. What is it? Do we need to talk?"

She shrugged.

A second and more insistent horn blast tore through the
silence. "You better go," Aileen urged.

She watched him leave, wondering if she should have
taken him up on his offer to stay and talk. No, urging him
to go had been the right decision. She knew how important
the ranch was to him. They had to make it succeed.

Would she ever be that important to him? He was to her.
As much as she loved the Triangle B, she would sacrifice
it for Quint in a heartbeat. Startled, she realized that she
had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her husband.

"You know what today was?" Aileen asked Quint, who
looked at her, alarmed.

"Your birthday?"

Aileen dumped a bucketful of tomatoes into the sink to
wash them. "No. That's not until November."

"That's what I thought you'd told me," Quint said, re lieved that he hadn't messed up. He couldn't think of any
holiday that fell on August first. "I give up. Tell me."

"Last day of summer school."

"Well, hallelujah. You've been working way too hard.
You've lost weight, and yesterday I found you sound sleep
in that chair over there while you waited for me to come
home for dinner."

"Catnaps are good. Lots of people swear by them. And
it's been too hot to eat a lot."

"Don't get defensive. I didn't criticize you. How long
before regular school starts?"

"Four weeks."

"That's not much time."

She shrugged and concentrated on the tomatoes.

"Why didn't you say something? We could have made
plans to go out."

Aileen bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him. They
had gone out exactly that one time when Jennifer had practically dragged them to The Black Hat. He had talked about
going out again but hadn't done anything about it.

"Haven't you been putting up a lot of tomatoes?" Quint
asked, finishing his coffee.

"It's apparently a banner year for tomatoes. Everyone
says so."

"Why don't you give some of them away?"

"I have. If I show up with any more at Jennifer's house,
she'll lob them at me."

"Okay. Why don't you just leave them on the vine?"

Aileen didn't say anything, but the oblique look she
slanted at Quint spoke volumes.

"I better get back to work. Thanks for the coffee." Quint
left the kitchen hurriedly.

For an instant Aileen was tempted to pick up a tomato
and hurl it after him. All he did was work. All he was interested in was work. Was that all there would ever be?
The thought that this might be so nearly broke her heart.
Aileen leaned over the sink and cried. She allowed herself
to sob until there were no more feelings inside her, until
she felt empty and spent.

She splashed her face with cold water. Well, she'd entered into a marriage of convenience, so what did she expect? Rationally, she knew she couldn't expect love, and
yet she did. She yearned for it, she hoped for it, she prayed
for it.

"Idiot," she muttered. How could she have let herself fall
in love with a man who showed no sign that he would
reciprocate the feeling?

Aileen gritted her teeth, took two pills for the migraine
that had taken hold of her, and finished the huge pot of
marinara sauce she had started. She froze all of it except
the amount she needed for the pasta dish she fixed for
Quint's supper. Then she dragged herself upstairs, slipped
into a freshly laundered cotton gown that still smelled of
sunshine, and curled into a ball on the bed.

That's how Quint found her, hours later.

"Aileen, are you sick?"

"My head hurts."

"A migraine? You haven't had one in months."

That was true. Not since they'd gotten married.

"Let me massage your temples," Quint offered.

"It's too late for that. I'll just have to ride it out."

"Are you sure? If you sit up-"

"No, no. I need to lie perfectly still. I feel less nauseated
that way."

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks. I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning."
She felt Quint's hand on her hair, stroking it gently. She
thought she felt his lips tenderly touch her hair before he left. Aileen lay still, fighting the nausea, letting the pain
wash over her.

She did feel better the next morning when she finally
woke up, hours past the time she usually rose. Thinking
that Quint had left already, she took a long shower before
going downstairs. She came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen
doorway.

"Quint, you're still here? Is something wrong?"

He lowered the newspaper he'd been reading. "I wanted
to wait to see how you were this morning before I left.
How's the migraine?"

"Gone. Knock on wood. Why didn't you wake me? I've
made you hours late."

"Aileen, I don't punch a time card."

Except he drove himself as if he did.

"I just made coffee. Want some?" Quint asked.

"Yes."

"Let me get it for you. I don't want you to work so hard.
No more canning and freezing. I mean it."

"Just a little more. Until the jars I have are filled. I won't
buy any more. I promise."

A knock on the front door startled them. They looked at
each other. People they knew came to the back door. "Are
you expecting anyone?" Aileen asked.

"No. Are you?"

Aileen shook her head. "I'll see who it is."

She opened the door to a tall, thin woman with graying
hair. For an instant she thought there was something familiar about her. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Are you Aileen Bolton?"

"I'm Aileen Bolton Fernandez."

"I'm Linda Cameron. My maiden name was Bolton."

It took a moment for Aileen to process this information.
"Then you're-"

"Jack Bolton's sister. Your adoptive aunt, if there's such
a thing."

"Who is it, Aileen?" Quint asked, stepping into the hallway.

Linda's hand flew to her mouth as if to restrain a gasp.
As Quint came closer, she dropped her hand. "For a moment I thought you were Jack, the way he looked when he
was young," she said, her eyes fastened unwaveringly on
Quint.

"Quint, this is Jack's sister, Linda Bolton Cameron. Your
aunt."

He managed a polite greeting. "Won't you come in?"

"Yes, please," Aileen added. "There's some fresh coffee."

They made small talk until Aileen had filled their cups
and they were sitting around the dining room table.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here," Linda said.
"I know Jack passed away this spring. A lawyer from
Cheyenne phoned me. I would have come to the funeral,
but Dad took a turn for the worse, and I couldn't leave
Colorado."

"Is that where Jack is from?" Quint asked.

"Yes. Didn't he ever talk about his family?" Linda asked.

"Not to me. I never met the man," Quint said.

"I know, and I'm real sorry about that. I wish I'd known
I had a nephew, but I guess that's water under the bridge,
as they say." She turned to Aileen. "Did Jack talk to you
about us?"

"No. I knew his father's name, but only because of the
initials on the cue case."

Linda chuckled. "Jack stole those sticks from Dad when
he lit out. He was fifteen. Couldn't stand living with that mean old man anymore. I got married at sixteen to get
away."

"What about your mother?" Aileen asked.

"Ma didn't run away. She died instead. When we were
still in grade school." Linda took a sip of coffee. "Ma was
a sweet, kind, warm woman. The exact opposite of Dad.
He used to beat Jack something awful. I was scared to death
of him. Today they'd put him in jail for child abuse." Linda
sighed.

"But you're taking care of the old man?" Quint asked.

"Your grandfather. Yeah. So does, did, Jack. That's why
I came. To thank you."

Quint and Aileen exchanged a puzzled look.

"Jack put a chunk of money into a bank account to pay
for Dad's nursing home. In the will it was mentioned as a
bequest, or something like that. I want to thank you for not
challenging it."

"It never occurred to us to challenge a bequest," Aileen
said, shocked at the very idea.

"I don't know what I would have done if you had. I
couldn't begin to pay for his care. I visit him every evening
after work. You know, to make sure he eats his supper and
takes his medicine."

"I'm surprised Jack left money for his dad's care, given
the way he was treated as a child," Quint said.

"Jack said he did it mostly for me. To make my life
easier. But, you know, I suspect he also did it for Dad.
Blood is thicker than water."

"What's wrong with him? With...Granddad?" Quint
asked.

"Just old age. He's ninety. Some days he knows who I
am and some days he doesn't. That's not unusual for that
age." Linda finished her coffee. "Well, I better be on my
way."