Page 37 of One in a Million
Madeleine’s lawyers would attack Frank’s will any way they could. The only other support for Lila’s case would be her flawless performance as a faithful wife and steward of her husband’s property. Would it be enough?
Looking to the right, she could see Madeleine’s bungalow, which had been prepared for her stay, however long that might be. Next door, she spotted Jasmine sitting on the steps with Sam. In the stress of the past few days, she’d almost forgotten the quiet presence of the FBI agent. Now he and Jasmine seemed to have taken a fancy to each other. That was none of Lila’s concern, unless the little sneak was poisoning him against her—which would come as no surprise.
But Lila couldn’t let that worry her now. In the distance, coming along the road, was a large, black vehicle that took shape as a high-end SUV, most likely a Mercedes. The battle for the Culhane Ranch was about to begin.
Lila had already decided that she wouldn’t be downstairs to welcome her rival. Unless Madeleine came knocking on the door, the two women could meet at lunchtime.
She stood watching as the SUV rolled through the ranch gate, which had been left open, pulled up to the bungalow, and parked in the driveway. Sam and Jasmine were on their feet, walking next door to greet the newcomer.
The driver’s door opened. The figure that stepped to the ground was as tall and rangy as Lila remembered, her broad-shouldered body more of an athlete’s than a model’s. She moved with visible effort, whether from arthritis in her injured hips or just stiffness from the long drive remained to be seen. By now, Madeleine would be in her mid-fifties, old enough for gray hair. But her thick, unruly mane had been skillfully dyed to a shade closely matching her daughter’s. She was dressed in khaki pants, a white shirt, and functional boots—plain but almost certainly expensive.
Evidently, she’d brought no servants, although Lila knew that she had them at home. The ranch household staff was probably expected to supply hired help as she needed it—and Mariah, of course, would be at her former mistress’s beck and call.
Looking down from a distance as she was, Lila couldn’t see the woman’s face. But as she watched the way Sam hurried to open the SUV’s rear door, lift out her luggage, and carry it into the house, Lila felt her stomach contract. She would be up against a force of nature, a master at winning others to her side.
To show any sign of weakness would be to lose.
* * *
By midday, the burning sun was hot enough to melt sticky spots of asphalt on the driveway. In the pastures, cattle and horses crowded the water tanks or clustered in meager patches of shade. The metal roofs of the arena and other outbuildings glowed with reflected heat. The days leading up to this one had been hot enough. Today was worse.
A buffet luncheon had been set up in the dining room, the table complete with the good family china and silver on an heirloom linen cloth with matching napkins. Jasmine knew that the formal setting had been Mariah’s idea—as was the buffet, perfect from the exquisite little canapés and fresh salads to the flaky crusts of berry and lemon tarts. The cook had never lost her affection for Madeleine—and this was her way of showing it.
The message was clearly not lost on Lila. Now that the family had filled their plates and taken their seats, she sat at the head of the table, a smile frozen on her face as she made polite small talk with her unwanted guest.
From where Jasmine sat below the salt—as she was fond of putting it—she could sense the tension between them. It was palpable, an invisible but real presence in the room.
She glanced across the table at her brother and his wife. Simone, wearing a ruffled sundress, was making a show of listening raptly to the conversation, which was mostly about the drive from Abilene, the weather, and the upcoming memorial service. Her wide-eyed expression shifted with every nuance of the exchange between her mother-in-law and her husband’s stepmother.
Darrin sat like a stone monument, probably trying, as the only male, to look like the head of the family and failing in the presence of these powerful women. If he was set on stepping into his father’s shoes, he had a lot of growing to do.
But most of Jasmine’s attention was fixed on her mother, whom she hadn’t seen since Darrin and Simone’s wedding outside Dallas. Madeleine Carlyle Culhane had never been a beauty. Her aquiline features and athletic, almost mannish frame radiated strength, confidence, and power. Comparing her to the elegant Lila would be like comparing an eagle to a swan.
The nearest Jasmine had come to describing her mother was that she was like the Ripley character played by Sigourney Weaver in theAlienmovies. But even that comparison didn’t come close. The woman was simply larger than life.
The mother-daughter reunion had been awkward—a stiff embrace with kisses mostly finding air. Jasmine had introduced Sam, who’d offered to unload her mother’s luggage and carry it to her room. After that, Madeleine had declared that she was exhausted from the long drive and would be napping until lunchtime, after which she wanted to climb the hill with her children to visit Frank’s grave.
“Jasmine, dear.” Her throaty voice cut into Jasmine’s musings. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? I thought surely he’d be invited to eat with us.”
“Sam isn’t my boyfriend, Mamá. He’s an FBI agent on assignment here to find and arrest the person who killed Dad.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. I was thinking you’d finally found a good man,” she said. “Has he had any luck?”
“He isn’t saying. He’s not supposed to discuss the case, but that’s hard when we’re all around him. Until we know otherwise, we have to assume we’re all suspects.”
“Including me, I suppose.”
“I suppose. Although since you weren’t here, that should put you above suspicion.”
Madeleine shrugged. “Well, you never know. Tell him he’s welcome to come and talk to me. I’d enjoy hearing what the man has to say. And now”—she rose, sliding back her chair—“if you’ll all excuse me, I really must find Mariah and thank her for this wonderful meal. After that, I’ll be ready for a visit to Frank’s resting place—Simone, you needn’t go, dear. But I want my children with me.”
“Mother.” Darrin spoke up. “The cemetery is at the top of the hill. And the sun’s like a blast furnace out there. We could all get heatstroke climbing up that trail. Can’t our visit wait until the sun goes down?”
“I’d rather not wait,” Madeleine said. “There are certain things that—”
“I could have a four-wheeler brought around with a driver,” Lila said. “We’ve got a newer Kubota with a shade over the top. It’s a double-seater that can hold a driver and three passengers. Would that work for you?”
“That would be lovely,” Madeleine said. “But there’ll be no need for the driver. I drove those vehicles all the time when I lived here. I’m sure I can remember how. Just have it brought around and left out front with the key.”