Read Online Stuck Together (Trouble in Texas Book #3) by Mary Connealy - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Connealy
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Father’s hair was now heavily streaked with gray. He was bent over, moving slow, his hand trembling on the head of that wolf. He depended on his cane for balance as if the trip had almost done him in.
He’d been older than most fathers when Vince was born, near fifty, which made Father in his seventies now. Mother had been much younger than her husband, in her mid-twenties when Vince came along. Of course they were both getting older now.
But they’d always seemed ageless to him. His mother’s fragile blond beauty never changed. His father’s rigid spine never bent.
Father owned the biggest bank in Chicago and had his fingers in many other pies.
Beautiful Virginia Belle was the privileged daughter of a Southern plantation owner. Father had married her, and when Mother’s parents died, Father had gotten out of all investments in the South. He’d always been savvy about money, and he’d made a fortune to add to the one he already had.
Mother’s parents had also left a nice inheritance directly to Vince, though he’d still been young. His crafty grandmama had set it up so that Father couldn’t get control ofit. It left Vince with more money than he could spend in a lifetime.
Another person stepped out of the coach and pulled his attention away from Father.
A tall, dark-haired young woman Vince had never seen before. She was a perfect female version of Julius Yates. Even from across the dusty street, Vince saw that her eyes were the same dark brown as Father’s and his own. She wore a dark woolen coat and a tidy black bonnet, none of it made with the fine quality material and expert tailoring of Father’s clothes.
But his father wasn’t the biggest surprise in that carriage, nor was the young woman who might be proof of his father’s lack of honor.
A slender, trembling, white-gloved hand stretched out from the dark core of that coach. Father ignored it, but the young woman quickly reached to offer assistance.
With agonizing slowness, one last person appeared. First, Vince saw the elegant glove. Next came a velvet reticule dangling from a wrist, followed by blue silk, ruffled cuffs. Past the blue cuffs emerged a beautiful mink coat. Finally, Vince saw the blond hair and light blue eyes. . . .
He tried to deny it just because he wanted to so badly, but the truth was inescapable.
Mother was here.
Mother, who belonged in Bedlam right alongside Lana Bullard.
Chapter 7
Even as Vince shoved the jailhouse door open, he was struck by how filthy he was. He should have snuck out the back of the jail, rushed home, bathed and changed into clean clothes.
Father was going to judge him harshly.
Nothing new there.
“Father? Mother?” Vince strode across the street. Words jammed up in his throat. He wanted to start demanding answers. What were they doing here? What were they thinking?
Vince saw the driver begin to unload a huge stack of luggage roped onto the roof.
“Be very gentle with the basket inside the coach,” the young woman instructed the driver.
All this luggage, including apparently fragile things, for these three people in Broken Wheel, Texas, where most people were lucky to have one change of clothes?
It could mean only one thing.
They were planning to stay awhile.
And there was nothing Vince could do about it.
There’d never been much to do about Father. Which was why Vince had left.
He realized Mother’s face was deeply lined. The years had been kind to Mother, but she was in her fifties now and there was no hiding her age. Mother turned her eyes on Vince, and joy lit up her face.
Vince braced himself. Mother had a knack for saying upsetting things.
“Julius,” Mother said. Her smile bloomed as she greeted Vince by the wrong name. “It’s so wonderful of you to meet our train.” And with the smile, as it always was with Mother, tears filled her eyes.
Happy tears. Sad tears. Frightened tears. Bored tears. Every dealing with his mother came served up with tears, and they made
He’d been older than most fathers when Vince was born, near fifty, which made Father in his seventies now. Mother had been much younger than her husband, in her mid-twenties when Vince came along. Of course they were both getting older now.
But they’d always seemed ageless to him. His mother’s fragile blond beauty never changed. His father’s rigid spine never bent.
Father owned the biggest bank in Chicago and had his fingers in many other pies.
Beautiful Virginia Belle was the privileged daughter of a Southern plantation owner. Father had married her, and when Mother’s parents died, Father had gotten out of all investments in the South. He’d always been savvy about money, and he’d made a fortune to add to the one he already had.
Mother’s parents had also left a nice inheritance directly to Vince, though he’d still been young. His crafty grandmama had set it up so that Father couldn’t get control ofit. It left Vince with more money than he could spend in a lifetime.
Another person stepped out of the coach and pulled his attention away from Father.
A tall, dark-haired young woman Vince had never seen before. She was a perfect female version of Julius Yates. Even from across the dusty street, Vince saw that her eyes were the same dark brown as Father’s and his own. She wore a dark woolen coat and a tidy black bonnet, none of it made with the fine quality material and expert tailoring of Father’s clothes.
But his father wasn’t the biggest surprise in that carriage, nor was the young woman who might be proof of his father’s lack of honor.
A slender, trembling, white-gloved hand stretched out from the dark core of that coach. Father ignored it, but the young woman quickly reached to offer assistance.
With agonizing slowness, one last person appeared. First, Vince saw the elegant glove. Next came a velvet reticule dangling from a wrist, followed by blue silk, ruffled cuffs. Past the blue cuffs emerged a beautiful mink coat. Finally, Vince saw the blond hair and light blue eyes. . . .
He tried to deny it just because he wanted to so badly, but the truth was inescapable.
Mother was here.
Mother, who belonged in Bedlam right alongside Lana Bullard.
Chapter 7
Even as Vince shoved the jailhouse door open, he was struck by how filthy he was. He should have snuck out the back of the jail, rushed home, bathed and changed into clean clothes.
Father was going to judge him harshly.
Nothing new there.
“Father? Mother?” Vince strode across the street. Words jammed up in his throat. He wanted to start demanding answers. What were they doing here? What were they thinking?
Vince saw the driver begin to unload a huge stack of luggage roped onto the roof.
“Be very gentle with the basket inside the coach,” the young woman instructed the driver.
All this luggage, including apparently fragile things, for these three people in Broken Wheel, Texas, where most people were lucky to have one change of clothes?
It could mean only one thing.
They were planning to stay awhile.
And there was nothing Vince could do about it.
There’d never been much to do about Father. Which was why Vince had left.
He realized Mother’s face was deeply lined. The years had been kind to Mother, but she was in her fifties now and there was no hiding her age. Mother turned her eyes on Vince, and joy lit up her face.
Vince braced himself. Mother had a knack for saying upsetting things.
“Julius,” Mother said. Her smile bloomed as she greeted Vince by the wrong name. “It’s so wonderful of you to meet our train.” And with the smile, as it always was with Mother, tears filled her eyes.
Happy tears. Sad tears. Frightened tears. Bored tears. Every dealing with his mother came served up with tears, and they made
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