Vegas Sunrise (7 page)

“A hundred thousand dollars! You said it was worth $250,000. Is that what she's paying your brother?” Birch cringed at the greed in his wife's voice.

“My half brother. I don't know. My mother made the decision, and she never goes back on her word. It's my own fault. I should have told her I was returning. So much for big surprises.”

“At least you have your trust fund. Do they give bonuses?”

“I wish you'd forget that trust fund. No, they don't give out bonuses. Since we got back, all you talk about is money. In Costa Rica the word wasn't in our vocabulary.”

“That's because we didn't have any and, even if we had, there was nowhere to spend it. You're right though, I do talk about money, and I think about it, too. I'm tired of living like a ragpicker. I want nice things, good food, and a house to live in. I also want a car. Of my own. Does a car come with this job?”

“No. Sunny gave me her treasured Volvo. The one I used to tell you about. It's like a bright red bonbon. I can pick up a station wagon for you in a few days.”

“Watch my swollen lips, Birch. I do not want some stodgy station wagon. I want a bright colored, low-slung sports car.”

Birch removed his arm from his wife's shoulders. “Tell me, if you had married someone else, how would you get those things?”

“I didn't marry someone else, Birch, I married you. I had no idea you were such a scrooge where money is concerned. How much money is in that trust fund?”

“I have no idea. It's just there. No one uses it. None of us draw from it. If I ever have children, it will go to them. That's how it's set up. If I don't have children, it will go to Sunny's kids.”

“You need to change that. You have a wife now. We could have children one of these days. Things like that need to be taken care of. You must have some idea of how much money is in the fund.”

“Look at me, Celia. Yes, it's mine, but there are strings and restrictions. It was set up by my grandmother and my mother. I cannot undo it. It's airtight. It goes down the line to the family heirs.
You
cannot inherit from it. Ever.”

“Are you saying I don't count for anything in this marriage?”

“No, I'm not saying that at all. I'm explaining it to you the best way I can. I can't help it if you don't like it.” Birch watched his wife's shocked face when he said, “There is around five million in the trust. That was years ago. I don't know what it's worth today.” He felt sick to his stomach at the greedy, calculating look he saw reflected in Celia's eyes. He got up and moved to one of the red chairs that gave him a frontal view of his wife. “Children are not in my game plan, Celia. I'm not father material like Sage is. My sister Billie is the first one to tell you she isn't mother material. Don't ask me why that is. We agreed, Celia, that children wouldn't be part of our lives. I haven't changed my mind.”

“When are you going to decide about the job? We need to talk about this or doesn't my opinion count?”

“Of course it counts. Iris said something this afternoon about following Sage to the ends of the earth. I found myself wondering if you'd do the same thing. You seem to be changing in front of my eyes, or is it my ears.”

“Changing! What about you, Birch? In my worst nightmares I never thought you'd strike me. Let's be fair here. You certainly have been busy today, haven't you?” This last was said so snidely, Birch felt the control he'd kept on his anger begin to slip.

Birch stretched his neck to relieve the tension in his shoulders. “I don't want to stay here and work with Jeff. Yeah, it bothers me. For some reason I don't think my father would have approved of this. I suppose I could do it. Since I have choices, I'd like to opt for something else. I'm going to go out to the ranch tomorrow and talk to Dad's half sister Ruby. Dad worked the ranch for many years. Between him and my grandfather they put Thornton Chickens on the map.”

“Are you telling me you'd give up working here at the casino to clean up chicken shit? That, I think, doesn't even bear discussing.”

“If I go to the ranch, we have to give up the penthouse. I prefer a house myself with a garden. A small house.”

“A little house! Birch, I don't like the sound of any of this. Two days ago our lives were settled. Now, things have switched up, and nothing is like you said it would be. What about me?”

“Get a job. Keep busy. Do volunteer work at Thornton Medical Center. When did you become so selfish?”

“The minute I stepped back onto American soil. I want to know when you became so stingy?”

“I was always frugal. Mom taught us all to save. We were taught to spend some and to save some. Sage and I used to save ten cents every week from our allowances. Sunny saved twenty cents. She always had to go one better than us. Billie saved her entire allowance. Once she lent me five hundred dollars when my clunker broke down. Billie and Sunny always had the most money in the bank.”

“All that money, and Sunny can't enjoy it. It doesn't seem fair. Money should be enjoyed. That's my philosophy. So, what are you going to do, Birch?”

“I'm going out to the ranch tomorrow. We're going to Sunrise on Sunday. I'll decide before then.”

“And if I don't agree?”

“I would hope that you loved me enough to want what is going to make me happiest. Celia, working here wouldn't give us any time alone. When I thought it was just going to be me running the casino, I planned on doing days and training someone for nights. Jeff gets the plum spot, and I'd have to do nights. I'd be sleeping all day. I saw what it did to my father. I had a plan all worked out in my head. It's not feasible now. I think I'll make some dinner unless you want to do it.”

“It's hard for me to chew. I'll just have some soup or a scrambled egg.” Her voice was so pitiful-sounding, Birch felt his stomach muscles bunch into a knot.

In the kitchen Birch jammed his hands into his pockets to stop them from trembling. He wished he could cry the way he had when he was little. He longed for Sage to clap him on the back and tell him things would be better. Right now, this very minute, Sage was probably sitting down to the wonderful dinner Iris had made. The kids would be chattering, Iris would be talking to Sage, and there would be flowers from Chue's greenhouse on the table. “Son of a bitch!” The expletive hissed from between his clenched teeth.

He recognized his anger and disappointment as he banged pots and pans in his search for the frying pan. His dream of a happy marriage was crumbling right before his eyes. He thought about his father then because he always thought about Ash Thornton when things didn't go right. It always comes down to money, just like he said. His thoughts took him into the future and words like prenuptial agreements, settlements buzzed around inside his brain. He'd been crazy in love with Celia three days ago and today he didn't even like her. He didn't discount his own violent behavior. He could make up for that by making sure it never happened again. What he couldn't alter or change was the monetary situation. He couldn't take the greed out of Celia's eyes, couldn't take away the revulsion Sunny said she saw in those same eyes.

Birch looked around the homey kitchen. His mother had done her best to make the penthouse comfortable so she could live here and work at a job she'd hated. She'd put her life on hold to do what his father wanted. Marriage was one sacrifice after another. Even when she'd divorced his father, she hadn't given up on him. In his gut he knew Celia would never be the woman his mother was.

“Dinner's ready,” he called.

Celia picked at the scrambled eggs on her plate. Birch stared at her across the table. Aside from a little puffiness on her bottom lip and a darkening patch under her eye she seemed okay. She was milking it, and they both knew it.

Birch wolfed his food. “You can clean up. I'm going to go out to the ranch. I don't feel like waiting till tomorrow. Don't wait up for me.”

“You're leaving me alone! Are we going to get a maid?”

“Yes and no. You didn't seem to mind leaving me alone last night while you partied downstairs. If you want a maid, you're going to have to get a job to pay for it. This apartment isn't so big that you can't handle a few housekeeping chores. My mother raised me to be neat, so you won't have to pick up after me. We have two bathrooms. You take care of yours and I'll take care of mine.”

“I'm not a housekeeper, Birch. I'm not even a good cook.”

“I guess you're going to learn. Mom and Iris will help you.”

“Stop jamming your family down my throat. When my face is healed, I want to do some shopping. Do we have credit cards?”

Birch's stomach rumbled. “They're invalid since they haven't been used in years. I'll look into it when I have time.”

“Do we have any cash money? What am I supposed to do if I need toothpaste?”

“We'll hash this out tomorrow. I have decisions I need to make right now, and this shitty stuff that's consuming you isn't a priority with me.”

“Maybe I should pack up my underwear and leave. This isn't working for me.”

“Suit yourself. While you're packing that underwear, you might want to ask yourself what it is that isn't working for you. Guess what, it may not be working for me either. You don't seem the least bit interested in how I feel and what is going to work for me. I'm the one who has to bust his ass for that toothpaste and that credit card you want. Women work today. In a few short hours you've focused on the Thornton money to the exclusion of all else. That bothers me. Were you always like this and was I too blind to see it?”

Celia started to cry. “This is new and . . . so thrilling. Why can't you let me enjoy it for a little while? I love you. You love me. What we have is good. I'm not going to hold the violence against you. I can forgive you because I love you. If I can be forgiving, why can't you bend a little? Both of us could use some fun. The truth is, Birch, I'm starved for the good life. You always had it. I didn't. If you want me to get a job, I will. I'll still need money to outfit myself. I'll need a car to get to work. I'd like to stay here and live in this penthouse. If you let me, I can make it a showplace. I hate it that you're even thinking of working at that chicken place. You'll come home smelling like chickens. Chickens smell nasty. Chicken feathers will be on your clothes, stuck to your shoes.”

Birch turned around. “I don't think you have any idea of the size of Thornton Chickens. It's a megabucks industry. My grandfather and my father worked their asses off to make it the company it is today.”

“So what! Your father's half sister owns it. You'd just be the hired help. What do we get out of it beside your salary if you work there? Free chickens? What exactly does megabucks mean in chicken lingo?”

Birch snorted. “Try rolling a billion-dollar-a-year industry off those puffy lips of yours, sweetheart.” The door slammed behind him. In the hallway he leaned against the wall to stop his internal shivering. Who was that person in there?

Celia tossed the silverware and dishes into the sink, the fry pan on top. Toast crumbs on the table were brushed onto the floor. She dusted her hands. Her job was done.

A
billion
-dollar-a-year industry could hardly be called chicken feed. Celia smiled all the way into the bedroom, where she climbed into bed, pulled up the covers, and switched on the television set. She leaned back in her nest of pillows and immediately began to spend money in her thoughts.

So much money. So little time.

When her mental closets were full of designer clothes and furs, her jewelry box overflowing and her new sports car garaged, Celia picked up the phone and placed a person-to-person call to Huntsville, Alabama. “Solly, this is Celia Connors. Celia Thornton now. You know the Thorntons of Las Vegas. I'm one of them now. Can you believe it? Have I got a story to tell you. Listen up, Solly.”

 

Birch picked his way up the winding path that led to the ranch's main house. The low-wattage lighting hidden in the shrubbery twinkled as he walked along. It was quiet here. Somewhere off to the left he could hear night birds chittering in the trees. He liked the comforting sound they made. For one brief moment he felt like he was back in Costa Rica.

Long ago, when he was in his early teens, his father had brought him and Sage to the ranch to see the way things were done. All he remembered now was what a monster operation it was, and profitable. Now, at night, it looked different. He wondered if the chickens were asleep. For the first time in days he felt genuine amusement. He jumped to the side when he felt something brush against his ankle. He looked down to see a large yellow cat. He dropped to his haunches. “You're a big guy, aren't you?” The cat allowed his head to be stroked. He purred contentedly. On his feet again, the cat followed him to the front door, where he rang the bell.

Ruby Thornton opened the door. “Birch! Come in, come in. Is anything wrong? Did something happen? I'm babbling here. Please, come in. Can I get you a drink or some coffee?”

“Coffee would be good. Nothing's wrong. Listen, what should I call you?”

“Ruby's fine. Do you like kitchens?”

“My favorite room in a house. We used to live in our kitchen at Sunrise. So, how do you like living way out here?”

“I hate it. I hate the chicken business even more. I'd like to unload the whole thing.”

“I'm looking for a job.”

“But . . . I thought . . . what about Babylon? You want to work here at the ranch? Tell me what you want. This is so strange. I was upstairs cursing this business, this town, my life, the whole ball of wax. I was a hair away from throwing my clothes in my suitcase. Then you ring my doorbell. Is this divine providence or what? Talk to me, Birch.”

It was almost midnight when Birch wound down his hours-long-monologue. They had replenished the coffeepot twice. “I'll never sleep now,” Birch said ruefully.