Louella rummaged in cupboards, through the refrigerator. Within minutes there was chaos.
Tess’s lips twitched again. Chaos followed her mother around as faithfully as the yapping Mimi and Maurice did.
“You meet your kin out there?”
“If you mean the half sisters, yes.” With trepidation, Tess eyed the coffee cake her mother had unearthed. Louella was slicing it into huge slabs with a steak knife. Being transferred to a plate decorated with gargantuan roses were approximately ten billion calories.
“Well, what are they like?” With the same generous hand, Louella cut a piece for her dogs, setting the china plate on the floor. The dogs bolted cake and snarled at each other.
“The one from wife number two is quiet, nervous.”
“That’s the one with the ex who likes to use his fists.” Clucking her tongue, Louella slid her ample hips onto the counter stool. “Poor thing. One of my girls had that kind of trouble. Husband would as soon beat the shit out of her as wink. We finally got her into a shelter. She’s living up in Seattle now. Sends me a card now and again.”
Tess made a small sound of interest. Her mother’s girls were anyone who worked for her, from the waitresses to the bartenders, the strippers to the kitchen help. Louella embraced them all, lending money, giving advice. Tess hadalways thought Louella’s was part club, part halfway house for topless dancers.
“How about the other one?” Louella asked as she attacked her coffee cake. “The one that’s part Indian.”
“Oh, that one’s a real cowgirl. Tough as leather, striding around in dirty boots. I imagine she can punch cattle, literally.” Amused at the thought, Tess poured out coffee. “She didn’t trouble to hide the fact that she didn’t want either of us there.” With a shrug, she sat down and began to pick at her cake. “She’s got a half brother.”
“Yeah, I knew about that. I knew Mary Wolfchild—at least I’d seen her around. She was one beautiful woman, and that little boy of hers, sweet face. Angel face.”
“He’s grown up now, and he’s still got the angel face. He lives on the ranch, works with horses or something.”
“His father was a wrangler, as I recall.” Louella reached in the pocket of her scarlet robe, found a pack of Virginia Slims. “How about Bess?” She let out smoke and a big, lusty laugh. “Christ, that was a woman. Had to watch my p ’s and q ’s around her. Had to admire her—she ran that house like a top and didn’t take any crap off Jack either.”
“She’s still running the house, as far as I could tell.”
“Hell of a house. Hell of a ranch.” Louella’s bright-red lips curved at the memory. “Hell of a country. Though I can’t say I’m sorry I only spent one winter there. Goddamn snow up to your armpits.”
“Why did you marry him?” When Louella arched a brow, Tess shifted uncomfortably. “I know I never asked before, but I’m asking now. I’d like to know why.”
“It’s a simple question with a simple answer.” Louella poured an avalanche of sugar into her coffee. “He was the sexiest son of a bitch I’d ever seen. Those eyes of his, the way they could look right through you. The way he’d cock his head and smile like he knew just what he’d be up to later and wanted to take you along.”
She remembered it all perfectly. The smells of sweat and whiskey, the lights dazzling her eyes. And the way Jack Mercy had swaggered into the nightclub when she’d beenonstage in little more than feathers and a twenty-pound headdress.
The way he’d puffed on a big cigar and watched her.
Somehow she’d expected that he’d be waiting for her after the last show. And she’d gone with him without a thought, from casino to casino, drinking, gambling, wearing his Stetson perched on her head.
Within forty-eight hours, she’d stood with him in one of those assembly-line chapels with canned music and plastic flowers. And she’d had a gold ring on her
Tess’s lips twitched again. Chaos followed her mother around as faithfully as the yapping Mimi and Maurice did.
“You meet your kin out there?”
“If you mean the half sisters, yes.” With trepidation, Tess eyed the coffee cake her mother had unearthed. Louella was slicing it into huge slabs with a steak knife. Being transferred to a plate decorated with gargantuan roses were approximately ten billion calories.
“Well, what are they like?” With the same generous hand, Louella cut a piece for her dogs, setting the china plate on the floor. The dogs bolted cake and snarled at each other.
“The one from wife number two is quiet, nervous.”
“That’s the one with the ex who likes to use his fists.” Clucking her tongue, Louella slid her ample hips onto the counter stool. “Poor thing. One of my girls had that kind of trouble. Husband would as soon beat the shit out of her as wink. We finally got her into a shelter. She’s living up in Seattle now. Sends me a card now and again.”
Tess made a small sound of interest. Her mother’s girls were anyone who worked for her, from the waitresses to the bartenders, the strippers to the kitchen help. Louella embraced them all, lending money, giving advice. Tess hadalways thought Louella’s was part club, part halfway house for topless dancers.
“How about the other one?” Louella asked as she attacked her coffee cake. “The one that’s part Indian.”
“Oh, that one’s a real cowgirl. Tough as leather, striding around in dirty boots. I imagine she can punch cattle, literally.” Amused at the thought, Tess poured out coffee. “She didn’t trouble to hide the fact that she didn’t want either of us there.” With a shrug, she sat down and began to pick at her cake. “She’s got a half brother.”
“Yeah, I knew about that. I knew Mary Wolfchild—at least I’d seen her around. She was one beautiful woman, and that little boy of hers, sweet face. Angel face.”
“He’s grown up now, and he’s still got the angel face. He lives on the ranch, works with horses or something.”
“His father was a wrangler, as I recall.” Louella reached in the pocket of her scarlet robe, found a pack of Virginia Slims. “How about Bess?” She let out smoke and a big, lusty laugh. “Christ, that was a woman. Had to watch my p ’s and q ’s around her. Had to admire her—she ran that house like a top and didn’t take any crap off Jack either.”
“She’s still running the house, as far as I could tell.”
“Hell of a house. Hell of a ranch.” Louella’s bright-red lips curved at the memory. “Hell of a country. Though I can’t say I’m sorry I only spent one winter there. Goddamn snow up to your armpits.”
“Why did you marry him?” When Louella arched a brow, Tess shifted uncomfortably. “I know I never asked before, but I’m asking now. I’d like to know why.”
“It’s a simple question with a simple answer.” Louella poured an avalanche of sugar into her coffee. “He was the sexiest son of a bitch I’d ever seen. Those eyes of his, the way they could look right through you. The way he’d cock his head and smile like he knew just what he’d be up to later and wanted to take you along.”
She remembered it all perfectly. The smells of sweat and whiskey, the lights dazzling her eyes. And the way Jack Mercy had swaggered into the nightclub when she’d beenonstage in little more than feathers and a twenty-pound headdress.
The way he’d puffed on a big cigar and watched her.
Somehow she’d expected that he’d be waiting for her after the last show. And she’d gone with him without a thought, from casino to casino, drinking, gambling, wearing his Stetson perched on her head.
Within forty-eight hours, she’d stood with him in one of those assembly-line chapels with canned music and plastic flowers. And she’d had a gold ring on her
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