Читать книгу Lone Star Millionaire - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 10

The town was a three-hour drive from the airport. Cal slowed at the intersection. There were only two other cars in sight and both of them were at least ten years old. Although he’d traveled to many unusual places, he’d always lived in large cities—Houston, Dallas, New York for a short time. In the back of his mind, he’d wondered what it would be like to live in a place where everyone knew everyone else.

“Follow this street about a mile,” Sabrina said, consulting the handwritten directions Jack, his attorney, had provided them. “Then turn right. Oster Street. There should be a stop sign.”

There were small business on both sides of what was obviously the main road. A diner, a barber shop, a closed five-and-dime. He was about to say it didn’t look as bad as Jack had made it out to be when he noticed the peeling paint on most of the buildings. Some of the windows were boarded up. The farther he drove into town and away from the highway, the more run-down everything seemed.

He turned right where Sabrina indicated. Commercial and retail areas gave way to houses. He saw a lot of broken or missing fences, cars up on blocks. Side yards contained clotheslines with drying garments flapping in the brisk breeze. Porches sagged, yards were overgrown with weeds. They passed a block with five houses for sale, four of which had signs proclaiming the price had been reduced.

“This place is dying,” he said.

“I know. It’s sad. Jack said the main factory closed and there’s no employment. A lot of people have already gone, and those who stayed are having trouble earning an income. In a couple of years, there won’t be anything left.”

Their rental car was a plain General Motors four-door sedan, nothing fancy. But it was relatively new and seemed out of place on the narrow street. “I’m glad we didn’t take a limo.”

“I agree. Turn right at the stop sign.” Sabrina rolled down her window and took a breath. “I feel badly for these people. You can smell the poverty.” She shivered. “What’s that saying? ‘Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.’ I don’t want to go back.”

Cal frowned. “You told me that you grew up without a lot of money, but things were never this desperate, were they?”

“Not really. We didn’t have extra spending money, but we got by. After my folks died and we moved in with my grandmother, we had a few months that were pretty difficult, before the social security kicked in. Then it wasn’t so bad. Besides, Gram was a hoot to live with. I remember her standing at the stove fixing macaroni and cheese. We had it about three times a week because it was cheap and all us kids liked it. Anyway, she would stir in that orange powder stuff, look at me and say, ‘Sabrina Innis, being poor sucks. You make sure you do better.’” Sabrina laughed. “She was wonderful.”

“Yeah.” He thought about his half dozen meetings with Sabrina’s grandmother. The feisty old lady was opinionated, but charming as hell. “Why don’t we have her out to visit soon?”

“I’d like that. Thanks. But we’re going to have to wait. She’s planning a summer trip to Alaska. I know she’s going on a ten-day cruise, and after that, she and her friends are taking the train through the state.”

Cal knew exactly who was paying for Gram’s vacation. “You’re generous with her.”

“She was good to me and I love her. I want her to be happy.”

“You also listened to her statement that being poor sucked. Is that why you took the job with me?”

When Sabrina had graduated from UCLA, she’d had four serious job offers with Fortune 500 companies. Cal had been recruiting for his firm as well, and when he’d first interviewed Sabrina, he’d realized she could be a great assistant for him. As the job didn’t come with room for advancement or a lot of corporate exposure, he’d sweetened the pot with promises of travel and a generous starting salary.

Sabrina chuckled. “Are you asking if I only want you for your money? Cal, it’s not like you to be insecure.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Oh, serious. That’s different.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “Okay, the money was a large part of it. I wanted to help Gram out and I had three younger siblings heading for college. But that wasn’t the only reason I took the job. I knew I would be giving up some things, but working for you offered the opportunity to travel, to learn about a major corporation from the top down. There was also the issue of moving to Houston. I was ready to be on my own, and getting out of Los Angeles made that possible.”

He had the oddest urge to ask her if she had any regrets. Regrets about not taking the other jobs. He told himself he was reading too much into her words. At times the job was difficult, but he knew Sabrina enjoyed her work. If she didn’t, she would have moved on a long time ago.

“Were you heartbroken when you realized I wasn’t a Texas cowboy?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Oddly enough, no. I already have to put up with you calling me ‘little lady’ every couple of days. I don’t need to add the smell of cow manure to the equation. You’re a good ol’ boy, Cal. That’s plenty. Oh, this should be the street. The address is 2123. There it is, on the left.”

He parked their rental car and turned off the engine, but made no effort to get out. For a moment he could only stare at the small house.

The walkway was cracked and overgrown with weeds. Any grass had long since died. There were missing panes in the windows, and those remaining were too filthy to see through. The screen door hung on the top hinge only.

“This can’t be right,” he muttered. “Jack said Anastasia’s adoptive parents were middle class. Not rich, but nothing like this.”

“These aren’t her parents,” Sabrina reminded him. “The woman she lives with is an aunt, maybe not even that closely related. Jack wasn’t sure.”

“My daughter can’t live here,” he said, then swore. “How could my parents have let this happen?”

“You’re going to fix it. That’s what matters, Cal. You came as soon as you found out about her.”

Her. My daughter. The words were spoken, but they had no meaning. On the other side of that door was a child he’d never known about. A flesh-and-blood person with hopes, dreams and feelings. What was she going to say when she saw him?

He pushed away the question because he didn’t have an answer, then got out of the car. Sabrina did the same and came around to his side.

He gave her a brief smile. “Thanks for coming with me. I would have hated to do this alone.”

“No problem. I’m happy to help.” For once she didn’t tease and he was glad.

He studied her, the short, layered red hair, the familiar face, the concerned expression. She wore tailored khaki slacks and a cream blouse. As always she was sensible and in control. He admired those qualities in Sabrina, and right now, he was depending on them.

He nodded toward the house. “Let’s go.”

He led the way to the front door and knocked. There was nearly a minute of silence that left Cal wondering if they had the wrong place or if no one was home. Then the door opened. A woman in her late fifties or early sixties stared up at him.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice throaty and her tone annoyed. “I ain’t gonna buy anything, so don’t bother trying to sell me whatever you’ve got.”

“Mrs. Sellis?” Cal inquired politely. “I’m Cal Langtry. I believe my attorney spoke to you on the phone. I’m here about my daughter.”

The woman was small, not much over five feet, and very thin. Her clothes were worn and stained. Gray streaks highlighted her short, dark hair. She looked Cal up and down, then grinned, exposing yellowed teeth and three empty spaces.

“So you decided you wanted the brat, did you? I can’t figure out why, but you’ll save me the trouble of filling out paperwork, so that’s something. You’d best come in.”

She held open the screen door. Cal led the way inside. The living room was small and dark, with tattered drapes hanging over the dirty windows. Pizza cartons and empty potato chip bags littered the floor. The center of the sofa looked as if it had been hit by a bomb, with springs poking up through a large hole in the dark brown tweed fabric and bits of stuffing burping out onto the other cushions.

The woman shuffled to a rocking chair in front of a new television and sat down. The tray table next to her contained a pack of cigarettes and an overflowing ashtray. She took a cigarette and lit it, then inhaled.

“You’re early,” she said. “We wasn’t expecting you until the end of the week.”

Cal glanced at Sabrina. Mrs. Sellis hadn’t invited them to sit down, and neither of them made a move to settle on their own. For one thing, the couch looked filthy and uncomfortable. For another, he wanted to bolt.

“I finished my business more quickly than I expected,” he said. “Is Anastasia here?”

“Of course she’s here. Where else would the girl be? She’s twelve. I don’t let her run around on her own. She might not be blood kin, but I’ve done good by her. She’s had a place to stay and food to eat. There are some who wouldn’t have been so kind.”

Sabrina touched his arm. He knew what she was trying to tell him—that this woman had probably done the best she could. Maybe it wasn’t her fault she lived in such a poor house. Of course, she could have bothered with picking up the trash at least.

Mrs. Sellis took a deep puff on her cigarette and coughed. When she’d caught her breath, she yelled, “Anastasia, get your stuff and get on out here, girl.” She turned her attention back to Cal. “She’ll be right along. Did you bring the check?”

Cal stared at her. “What check?”

“Figures.” She stubbed out the cigarette. “I’m not handing the girl over to the likes of you for free, you know. Her fool parents up and died without a penny to their names. Her daddy had just changed jobs, so there weren’t any life insurance yet. I took the girl in because I’m family—” She frowned. “After a fact. They did adopt her. Well, I did the right thing and it’s been nearly a year. I get a little something from social security, but it’s not enough.”

Mrs. Sellis pushed herself to her feet. “She’s nothing but a trial, I don’t mind telling you that. Sassy mouth on her, always talking back. She won’t do her schoolwork. Grades falling, getting in trouble at school. She ran away a couple of times.” The woman glanced around her living room. “From here, if you can believe it.”

“Mrs. Sellis, the social security check would have adequately provided for Anastasia’s needs,” Sabrina said quietly. “Mr. Langtry’s attorney didn’t mention that any reimbursement sum had been discussed.”

Cal recognized Sabrina’s tactic instantly. They were going to play good cop, bad cop. He wanted to protest that he usually got to be the bad cop, but in this case, it was probably better that he come off as the good guy. After all, his daughter might be eavesdropping on the conversation.

Suddenly reminded of the girl’s presence in the house, he glanced around the small room. To the left was a tiny kitchen with an even smaller eating area. To the right was a single door. It would lead to a hallway, he thought, or maybe just to the only bedroom in the house. Again he was stunned that his child had been living under these circumstances. If only he’d known sooner.

“You his wife?” the woman asked.

“No, Mr. Langtry’s personal assistant.”

Mrs. Sellis cackled. “Is that what they call it these days. Oh, my. An assistant.”

Cal’s temper flared. “Name your amount. I will be happy to write you a check. In return you’ll sign a paper saying you never want to have anything to do with the girl again.”

“Well, that’s the truth, I’ll tell you. If I never see her again, it’ll be too soon. That one’s nothing but trouble.” Her dark eyes glittered. “Of course, she’s your own flesh and blood and that should make a difference.”

The anger increased. He didn’t like this woman. At first, he had felt some compassion for her circumstances, but now he didn’t give a damn. “I would like to see my daughter.”

“I know, I know. Anastasia, get out here, girl. I mean now!” She turned from the door. “What kind of a name is that, I ask you. Anastasia. Like she’s someone important, instead of a skinny brat with a nose for trouble.”

The door opened. Cal stared, his heart pounding as he waited to catch his first glimpse of his daughter. Someone stepped into the room. A young preteen, caught in that awkward stage between childhood and physical maturity.

She was about five foot five or six, just a little shorter than Sabrina, with large dark eyes hidden behind glasses. Her hair hung to the middle of her back. He registered those facts before getting caught up in horror at how painfully thin she was. Her too-small, worn T-shirt clung to her, exposing her bony shoulders and rib cage. Her cheeks were sunken and her mouth pinched. Jeans hung off her hips.

There was dirt on her face and hands, and her hair was greasy. He couldn’t tell if she was pretty or not. He couldn’t do anything but stare in shock.

“What the hell have you been doing to her?” Cal demanded in a roar. “There are laws against this kind of neglect.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “I’m not going to the state home,” she shrieked. “I’ll run away and you’ll never find me! I swear, I’ll die first.”

She made a quick move as if to run out the door. Cal stepped forward to block her. “You’re not going to the state home,” he said quickly. “I’m not from the government. I’m your father.”

He said the words without thinking, then the meaning sank in. Her father. This was his child. Not at all what he’d pictured, but no less his.

Sabrina felt as if she were caught up in a movie. Everyone was reacting to a script, but she didn’t have a copy of today’s dialogue. She stared at the girl standing—shaking—in front of them and her heart went out to the child. What terrible pain had she endured in the past year? No wonder she’d been a discipline problem. From the looks of things, Mrs. Sellis wasn’t overflowing with compassion and concern.

The girl watched Cal warily, as if deciding whether or not to trust him. He took another step toward her. Sabrina wanted to warn him to take things slowly. After all, if she was having this much trouble absorbing what was happening, Anastasia would be suffering with the same problem.

But she couldn’t get it together enough to speak. She was too stunned by Anastasia’s appearance and this tiny house that smelled of neglect and poverty.

Cal reached out to touch his daughter’s cheek. She spun away and glared at him. “You’re not my father,” she spat. “You’re just the bastard who knocked up my mother. Go to hell.”

With that, she raced for the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Sabrina flinched at the sound. Cal looked as if he’d been sucker punched. Only Mrs. Sellis didn’t react.

“I told you she was difficult. So, about the check. I think eight thousand ought to cover it.”

“If you think—” Cal began, then visibly took control of himself.

“Excuse us,” Sabrina said, then moved close to him, took his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “Cal, look at me.”

“That woman,” he growled. “She’s been starving her. That kid hasn’t eaten in days. Longer. Don’t try to tell me she’s got an eating disorder. This isn’t about trying to be thin enough. We’re talking about neglect and possibly emotional abuse. I can’t believe—”

He stopped talking and ran his hand through his hair. “Dammit, Sabrina, did you hear what my own kid said to me?”

“I know, but you can’t take it personally. She’s scared. She doesn’t know you from a rock, and here you are, ready to take her away.”

“Anything would be better than this place.”

“She doesn’t know that. This is all she knows right now. Okay, it’s horrible and she hates it, but at least it’s familiar.” She gazed at her boss. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to get my kid out of here.”

She thought for a moment. “Why don’t you talk with Mrs. Sellis and I’ll collect Anastasia. I think I’m less of an emotional button for her right now. As far as how she was treated, you can call Jack when we’re in Houston and let him take care of it.”

Cal swore, then pulled Sabrina close and rested his chin on her head. “Thanks. I wouldn’t be able to get through this without you. I’d want to tear that old lady apart, limb by limb.”

Sabrina ignored the fluttering in her chest and the heat from Cal’s body. “You wouldn’t like prison, Cal. I don’t think you’d do well there.”

“Probably not.” He took a step back, then shrugged. “She’s going to come around, isn’t she?”

She knew he meant his daughter. “She’s been through a lot and it’s going to take some time, but sure, she’ll come around. You’re going to be a great dad.”

She spoke with more confidence than she felt. While she didn’t doubt Cal’s abilities, she was concerned about Anastasia. She’d suffered tremendously, and she’d had to do it alone. That kind of experience could leave a person scarred for life.

She and Cal went back into the living room. Mrs. Sellis watched them, her dark eyes glowing with greed. Sabrina ignored her and crossed to the closed door. She hesitated, almost afraid of what she would find on the other side, then drew a breath and turned the handle.

The bedroom was tiny, dark and even more dirty than the living room. Sabrina didn’t want to think about what might be living under the bed. Clothes were scattered all over. There were dirty plates, glasses, torn magazines and dirt everywhere. Anastasia lay curled up on the bed, with her back to the door. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t make a sound.

Sabrina stared at her and tried to decide the best way to handle the situation. Her instinct was to offer the girl comfort, but her gut told her that was wrong. Right now Anastasia was scared and angry. Compassion would be viewed as weakness. She decided to go for logic.

“Boy, were you stupid,” she said, her tone conversational.

That got the hoped-for response. The girl stopped crying.

“Talk about blowing a perfect setup. Look at this place. It’s disgusting. I know you hate it here.”

“No, I don’t” came the defiant response.

“Oh, so that’s why you ran away a couple of times. And now this basically nice guy shows up, a guy who is, by the way, your father. He just found out about you and he wants to take care of you. Instead of saying thanks or even hi, you call him a bastard and run out of the room. Like I said, not really bright. I guess you want to go to that state home, huh?”

Anastasia rolled over and glared at her. “No, I don’t. I won’t go there. I swear, I’ll die first.”

Sabrina shrugged. “You want to stay with Mrs. Sellis?”

Anastasia wiped the tears from her face. The moisture smeared the dirt there. “She hates me. She only wants the money the government sends.” Full lips trembled. “I want to go home.”