Home Free (4 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Home Free
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Annie smiled. “I wish sometimes I was more like you, my friend.”
“Don't ever wish that, Annie. Just wish to be who you were meant to be. You have so many things in your life to be grateful for. You are so loved, it boggles the mind. You do so much good that no one knows about. Like Joseph Espinosa's family. You gave up your childhood home to that family so they could have a better life. Look what you did with the newspaper. You adopted the girls, who love you more than life itself. Take the time to enjoy it all, Annie, before it's too late.”
Annie played with the pages of the cookbook in front of her. She looked Myra square in the eye and said, “That sounds rather ominous, Myra.”
“I know, and I meant it to sound that way. Now, are you planning on canned cranberry sauce or made from scratch? I saw a recipe for one that has orange in it. Sounded good to me.”
“Then that's the one we'll serve.”
“There, we made a decision. We should work on your guest list.”
“Let's just invite everyone we know and do it as a buffet. We can set up separate tables since I don't have a table big enough to fit everyone.”
“And another decision has been made.” Myra laughed as she stared across the table at her friend, who also began to laugh. But, Myra saw, the laughter didn't reach Annie's eyes.
Chapter 3
F
ollowing his normal daily routine, Charles started to read the morning news on the computer. It was three days before Thanksgiving. He winced at the world headlines. Just once in a while he wished the headlines would be something
good,
or at the very least, cheerful. He continued to scan what he wanted to read and saw the blip that President Connor was heading to Camp David for Thanksgiving. Master Sergeant Augustus Sullivan, retired wounded military veteran, would be joining her, along with veterinarian Donald Gamble and Sullivan's male nurse and therapist. He read on and saw that Sullivan was the previous owner of the president's dog, a military K9. He smiled at what he was reading. This, at least, was some much-needed pleasant news for a change. Charles felt his smile widen.
He continued to read for the next fifteen minutes. He had not finished when his reading was interrupted by the buzzing of his sat phone. He pressed TALK and heard Lizzie Fox identify herself and quickly announce that she was at the White House, and the president was standing next to her. Instinctively, at the mention of President Connor's name, Charles stood at attention. He listened closely and found himself nodding, then realized Lizzie couldn't see him agreeing with her. “I understand, Lizzie. I'll tell Myra and the others that you'll arrive in time for dinner.” He replaced the sat phone and remained standing for a few minutes, continuing to stare at the phone. He wasn't sure if he was elated or depressed at what he'd just heard. More to the point, what would the girls think when Lizzie arrived to share her news?
Lizzie's arrival meant two things—he had a dinner to prepare, and he had to call all the Sisters, since Lizzie's unexpected visit concerned each and every one of them.
These days, since their pardons and the capture of Hank Jellicoe, rounding up the girls wasn't as easy as it used to be. Kathryn was trucking again; Yoko was extra busy getting ready for the Christmas season at her nursery; Nikki's law practice was setting all-time records, causing her sometimes to work until ten or eleven at night, which meant that Alexis, her new office manager, was also working late. Isabelle was up to her eyeballs, as was Annie, with the last-minute punch list on her new farmhouse. Maggie's social life had kicked up several notches, and she was rarely available after six. Which pretty much left Myra, who was at the ready for the most part. The truth was, Myra was so bored, she was actually puttering in the kitchen with a stack of cookbooks. The dogs were eating very heartily these days. For the most part. Preparing dinner was definitely his job.
Another question facing him at the moment was the boys. Should he include them in the unexpected meeting or not? He knew for a fact that Jack and Bert were working almost twenty-four /seven, and Harry's training was just as time-consuming. Ted and Espinosa had for some reason fallen into the background as Ted grappled with his newfound social freedom and all the opportunities that had suddenly presented themselves to him. Espinosa appeared to be odd man out and was spending hours and hours of quality time with his family at Annie's old plantation home, which, in Charles's opinion, was a good thing. At the end of the day, family was where it was at.
Lizzie, if he remembered correctly, had only said call the girls. She hadn't said call everyone or call the guys, too. So that had to mean this little gathering had something to do with the meeting the Sisters had had with the president at Kathryn's surprise birthday party in Las Vegas.
For some reason, with so much time going by, whatever that had been about, he'd assumed it had fizzled before it got off the ground.
That left the boys. Or the guys, as the Sisters referred to them.
Two days ago, he'd spoken to Lizzie, and she hadn't said a word about traveling to Washington. She'd also told him that she, Cosmo, and Little Jack wouldn't be joining them this year for Thanksgiving, because the casino industry was holding a huge dinner the night before Thanksgiving and honoring Cosmo as Lawyer of the Year. The day after Thanksgiving, Cosmo was also being cited as Man of the Year by the state of Nevada, with a huge gala that would also kick off the Christmas season in Vegas.
Which all boiled down to one thing: Lizzie's meeting was important and girls only. He hoped he wasn't wrong, or the boys were going to get their Jockeys in a knot. He sighed. Sometimes, men were more angst-ridden than women.
The sun was just commencing its march to the horizon when Charles entered the kitchen to see Myra in her robe, drinking a cup of tea. He felt himself frown. Myra did like to get up early, but not
this
early.
“Bad dream, or you just couldn't sleep, old girl?”
“Both, I think. I hate it when I can't remember the dream, especially if it was a good one. I let the dogs out already, but now they are waiting for breakfast. I know you have them on certain menus, so I didn't want to disrupt your . . . meal plan. I feel jittery, Charles, like there is something lurking out there we should know about.”
Charles leaned over to kiss Myra's cheek. “As usual, my dear, you are spot-on with your intuition. When I was reading the paper online, the phone rang, and it was Lizzie. Despite everything that's scheduled out in Vegas, she's at the White House. Or she was when I spoke to her. Yes, before you can ask, it is early to be visiting the White House. She will be coming for dinner this evening and would like to speak with the girls. As yet, I haven't called anyone. She said ‘girls,' Myra, not ‘girls and guys' or ‘girls and the boys.' I think, and this is just my opinion, that we are going to be finding out this evening what the president's agenda is in regard to that unorthodox meeting we all had at Kathryn's surprise birthday party. I more or less thought that, whatever
that
was, was dead in the water.”
Myra perked up as she watched Charles prepare a pot of coffee. “Really?”
Charles stopped what he was doing to stare at Myra. “You're excited, aren't you?”
Myra smiled. “Things have been rather dull around here lately. I expected the pace to kick up a bit since we'll be in the Christmas season in a few days. Did Lizzie give you any inkling what this was all about?”
“Not a single clue. I assume that the president was standing right next to her. By the way, Lizzie and her little family will not be joining us over Thanksgiving.” He went on to explain about Cosmo's awards and the presentation galas that were coming up. “She did promise Christmas, though.”
“Oh, I was so counting on seeing Little Jack, even though he isn't so little anymore. I bought him some racing cars, bright red ones. I do so love to hear the little one's laughter. I miss that so much. So very much,” Myra whispered.
Charles winced. If he didn't divert Myra, the rest of her day was going to be ruined. Quick like a fox, he said, “Call Nellie and Elias and invite them for breakfast. Like
now,
Myra, before Nellie goes out for her morning ride. I'm a little worried about Elias. He's so forgetful lately. We were supposed to play chess yesterday, and he was a no-show. He didn't even call,” Charles fibbed, with his fingers crossed in front of him.
Diverted, Myra frowned as she got up and walked over to the old-fashioned wall-mounted telephone set. “That's funny you should say that, Charles. Nellie and I were just talking about that same thing the other day, when we went riding. It will be nice to have company for breakfast for a change. I love to see people eat and appreciate your efforts, dear.”
Charles smiled. “And you are buttering me up . . . why?”
“Because I love you, no other reason,” Myra said as she dialed Nellie's number. She nodded for Charles's benefit, then spoke for a few more minutes before she hung up. She turned to Charles and said, “Elias will come in the golf cart, and Nellie will ride her horse. Elias says it's in case Nellie breaks down. You have noticed how Elias follows Nellie in the golf cart, haven't you, Charles?”
“A time or two, but Nellie was imbibing at the time, if you recall.”
Diverted even further from her original thoughts, Myra laughed. “I do recall. So what are you preparing?”
“A ham-and-cheese omelet with green onions for Elias. Banana pancakes for Nellie. Two eggs over easy for you, with Canadian bacon, and toast and coffee for myself. I am watching my waistline so I can eat hearty at Annie's Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I'm not so sure I would or can be as confident as you, Charles, in regard to Annie's culinary expertise.”
“Then I will gorge on my own plum pudding. I think I'll make a triple batch just to be on the safe side. Rather like Elias and his golf cart hedging his bets with Nellie and her horse.”
Myra laughed again, and Charles heaved a deep breath. It was going to be a good day. The evening . . . Now, that was a different can of worms altogether.
Lizzie Fox left the White House as quickly as her feet would carry her. As she literally raced down the halls, she wasn't the least bit surprised to see staff members already at their desks, people she'd nodded to in the past, possibly had waved at or even spoken a few words to during her short tenure as the president's counsel at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Once she was a safe distance from that famous address, she pulled into a fast-food joint and ordered an English muffin and some hot coffee. She wolfed it down in the parking lot and wished she had another.
When she pulled into traffic again, she drove by her old offices, offered up a jaunty salute, but kept on going. Her destination was her old house, which she had decided not to rent out, after all. She liked the idea that she could come back to it anytime she felt like it and sleep in her old bed. She had even left some of her clothes and toiletries behind. The only thing she really needed was some coffee, but then she remembered that the last time she'd visited the house, she'd put the coffee in the freezer. Well, that meant she was good to go.
With hours looming ahead of her until it was time to go out to the farm, and with nothing better to do than think about her visit with the president, she could do a little dusting, a little mopping, and open the windows to air the place out. Then, maybe after she did that, she would build a fire and sit down and think about the meeting. It was a game plan. Of sorts.
In the end, she did nothing like that at all. She drove to Harry Wong's dojo, greeted Bert and Jack, who were between classes, allowed herself to be bear-hugged, peeped in at Harry, who waved offhandedly and continued with his training. Seeing that she was in the way, Lizzie blew kisses and headed out the door. Her next stop was the
Post
and a visit with Maggie, who was so happy and giddy, all Lizzie could do was stare at her friend.
Maggie started to babble at once, bringing Lizzie up to date on her new relationship. “Don't go getting the wrong idea, Lizzie, because we have not had sex yet. And you know what? That's okay, too. We're taking it slow and easy. He digs me, Lizzie. Do you believe that?” Not waiting for or expecting a reply, Maggie rushed on. “I'm thinking of taking him to Annie's for Thanksgiving dinner. I plan on asking him tonight. We text and e-mail all day. Well, I do it more than he does. After all, he is a big money manager and has a duty to his clients, and he has to be careful.” At Lizzie's look of alarm, Maggie almost screamed, “What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Maggie, does your new beau know about the vigilantes and your friendship with them?”
“I . . . well, I didn't see the point . . . so to answer . . . no, I did not mention it. Maybe that's why I have been holding . . . off.”
“What do you think he would do or say if you confided in him?” Lizzie asked quietly.
Maggie looked so stricken that Lizzie almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
Maggie sat down in her swivel chair and stared at Lizzie. “I don't know, Lizzie. Well, that's not quite true. I think he'd give me my walking papers. He said he was staying in town over Thanksgiving. I didn't . . . What I mean is, I didn't say what I was doing. I can still go to the farm on my own. That means he will have to eat somewhere alone, and that's going to bother me. It
will
bother me, Lizzie. I can't just not show up. I owe all of this,” she said, waving her arms about, “to Annie. And I want to see her new house and be with the girls. It's been a while. Damn, why can't things just work out?”
Lizzie tilted her head to the side, her expression one of I don't have a clue. “That's a hard one.”
Maggie suddenly bolted upright. “Lizzie, why are you here? You said last week you couldn't make Thanksgiving dinner, because Cosmo was getting all those awards, and yet here you are. What's up? And it's so early in the morning.”
“I just came from the White House. I stopped by the dojo, but the guys were busy, and it felt like I was in the way. I'm on my way to my old house to check it out, you know, dust, mop up, air it out. There's a meeting at Myra's tonight. Dinner, of course. Then I take the red-eye home. You're going, aren't you?”
Maggie struggled with her reporter's instincts and her infatuation for her new beau. “Of course I'll be there. I'll just . . . you know . . . blow him off. Maybe if I'm lucky, he'll think of me as a mysterious femme fatale. Not likely, huh?” she answered herself when Lizzie grinned.

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