Somebody Like You Page 17

  First things first, though. She mentally shoved Vivi and Cash into a dark, dusty corner of her mind. Rethinking that, she stuck them in opposite corners. Now she’d concentrate on her grandfather.

  She felt like kicking herself. This was the reason she’d come to Texas, this quest for her grandfather’s sister. His life depended on it. Yet now that she had an actual lead, she found herself reluctant to open that proverbial can of worms. Who knew what she might uncover at the bottom?

  Fate, though, stepped in. As luck would have it, Thelma had decided to stop into the Cowboy Grill for lunch today. Oliver, acting as Annelise’s patron saint, explained as much as he knew to the town’s longtime resident and had actually set up a meet.

  No going back. The die had been cast.

  Annelise swung her Harley into the passing lane and around a slow-moving cattle truck out of self-defense. Following it on her bike in a hundred degrees made for quite the odiferous ride. One she could happily live without.

  As she slid in front of the truck, her mind veered back to her grandfather. His remission was temporary; his only hope rested in a bone marrow transplant. A half sister could very well carry the cure for Grandpa’s leukemia. A permanent cure.

  So, the big question. The one that haunted her and kept her awake at night. Why didn’t her grandfather want this woman found? Annelise couldn’t begin to count the times she’d asked herself—and him—that question. He’d told her it didn’t concern her. And that, to his way of thinking, ended the discussion.

  Well, as far as she was concerned, it was far from over. The reason didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except restoring his health. If there was even the smallest chance this mystery woman was a match, Annelise was determined to find her.

  Once she did, well, she’d tackle that problem when she got to it. One step at a time.

  Annelise prayed her meeting with Ms. Hanson would bring results. She didn’t know how much longer she could stay on at Whispering Pines. She could simply walk away from the job. It had been a cover, a reason to stay in town. She didn’t need that anymore, did she?

  Pulling into a parking space, she rubbed at a spot on her chest. The idea of saying good-bye to Cash hurt. In a short time, he’d wormed his way into her life.

  Too bad she hadn’t done the same with him.

  She drew up short. Long-term between herself and Cash? It couldn’t happen. He was so right. Neither could live permanently in the other’s world.

  Yanking off her helmet, she swung her leg over the bike. Putting three quarters into the parking meter, she set out across the street.

  Since she had time to burn, she’d check out the dress store she’d spotted on her last trip. The hand-painted, flamboyant calligraphy script on the front window read Maggie’s. Annelise didn’t hesitate. Lone Tree wasn’t Fifth Avenue, but who knew?

  The instant she walked through the door, she fell in love. Somebody with a real eye for fashion and design had pulled this place together. The store didn’t shout small town. It didn’t even whisper it.

  White lace curtains hung at the windows. Sunlight poured through them and formed sugar-frost patterns on the deep brown carpet underfoot. Soft, pale pink walls, their crown moldings the same chocolate brown as the floor, welcomed her.

  Clothing, shoes, and accessories spilled over the interior in what Annelise realized was a very well-planned, but totally random-looking design. Lingerie tumbled from the open drawers of an antique dresser. Jewel-toned perfume bottles scattered across the surface of the beautiful oak piece.

  A drop-dead gorgeous redhead stepped from a backroom. A magnificent scarlet and purple swingy top and pencil-thin black pants set off a model-perfect figure and face. Not what Annelise thought to find in Lone Tree, Texas. She’d have put down money the owner would turn out to be Dottie’s look-alike cousin.

  The redhead sent Annelise a wide, open smile. “Hi. Welcome to Maggie’s.”

  “Thank you. Your store is wonderful. Not at all what I expected.” She cringed inwardly. “I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s okay.” The redhead laughed. “Lone Tree doesn’t exactly lend itself to a Madison Avenue mood, does it?”

  “No. I’m afraid those weren’t the vibes I picked up when I drove down Main Street.”

  Walking to her, hand extended, the redhead said, “I’m Maggie.”

  “Hi, Maggie. I’m Annie. This shop is adorable. I saw it when I was in town yesterday. Since I couldn’t get in then, and I’m here for an appointment and have some extra time, I thought I’d stop by.”

  “Glad you did.” Maggie looked around her, out the front window. “Is that your Harley?”

  Annelise nodded.

  “Oh, wow. I saw it parked there yesterday. Must be fun to ride, huh?”

  “It is that.”

  “Scary?”

  “Only at first. Once you get the hang of it, there’s nothing like it. Maybe I can take you for a ride someday.”

  “That would be great!”

  “Speaking of great.” Annelise turned back to the clothes. She fingered a dress in a rich red, black slashes streaking almost haphazardly across the bodice. “This is fantastic. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  “I hope not.” Maggie’s soft laughter accompanied her words. “It’s one of my designs.”

  Annelise looked away from the dress, met the other woman’s gaze. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. I designed it, then ran it up on my sewing machine in the back.” She nodded to the room she’d come from. “My studio.” She grimaced. “Someday, if I’m very, very lucky, I’ll be able to afford something bigger. More workable.”

  A dreamy smile lit her face. “In New York City, the center of the universe.”

  Annelise grinned, then studied the dress closer. The work was impeccable, the design clever. “Are all the ones on this wall yours?”

  Maggie nodded.

  Annelise moved from one to another, then another, amazed at what she’d stumbled upon. Maggie’s work could put any of the big name designers to shame.

  And wouldn’t you know it? Her smile grew. She needed a dress, didn’t she? Something to wear to the fund-raiser. Maybe, just maybe…

  Her mind working a mile a minute, she turned back to Maggie. “It so happens I’m in need of something to wear to a rather important get-together. It’s formal, though, so I need an outfit that’s a little more, I don’t know, elegant, for lack of a better word.” She waved toward the wall.

  “When do you need it?”

  “Ah.” Annelise arched her brows. “And there’s the rub. I need it day after tomorrow.”

  “Well, Ms. Annie, why don’t you come on in the back with me. I’ve got a couple more elaborate designs I’ve been toying with. Problem is, nobody around here wears dresses like them.” She took a few seconds, let her eyes run the length of Annie, taking in her jeans, T-shirt, and scuffed cowboy boots.

  “I know. I don’t look the part of some fancy socialite. I’m—” She hesitated, not sure how to explain what she was doing here in Texas. “I’m only here for a little while. While I am, I’m doing some work at Whispering Pines.”

  “Really? For Cash Hardeman?”

  “Yes.” Surprised, Annelise asked, “Do you know him?”

  “Know him? I practically grew up with him. I used to live in Maverick Junction, and I graduated from high school there. Pops, my grandpa, lives here in Lone Tree. Now that he’s getting on and Granny passed away, we didn’t want him living alone. So, I moved here to be with him. I get free rent, which lets me spend more on fabrics, and he gets company and somebody to cook and clean for him.” She held out her hands. “So far, so good.”

  It really was a small world, Annelise thought.

  “Cash is a good man,” Maggie said.

  “Yes. Yes, he is.” Annelise’s throat tightened at the thought of that good man. Of his kisses. A good man and an honest one. He didn’t intend to lead her on—even if she might want him to.

  The thing a
t his house after? Well, they’d both gotten carried away. Again. The chemistry between them was explosive.

  She followed Maggie through the doorway into the backroom, and Annelise felt as though she’d stepped into another world. Oh, yes, this was definitely where Maggie created. Where the magic happened. A huge table, strewn with fabrics, zippers, and sketches, backed against a brick wall. On the end wall, a sewing machine sat, the unrestored wood floor littered with pieces of fabric and thread clippings.

  “Sorry for the mess. Didn’t expect company back here today.”

  “Don’t worry. I find this fascinating.”

  Maggie plucked a drawing from a bulletin board that hung over the large table. “This is the one. It’s perfect for your build. It would look great on you.”

  “Oh!” Annelise traced a finger over the dress’s silhouette. It was a study in contrast. The gown, diaphanous and flowing, bared one shoulder. Maggie had combined it with a very tailored short-sleeve jacket. It should have been an impossible pairing. It shouldn’t work. Yet it did.

  “What did you use for the fabric?”

  “Nothing. Yet.” Maggie grinned. “This one hasn’t come out of the drawing stage. It’s still incubating.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment shot through Annelise. Maggie was right-on. The dress would have been perfect for the fund-raiser.

  “I thought I’d use an ivory-colored organza with an under layer of silk in the same color. For the jacket, I’d keep it entirely sheer. Maybe a single crystal-covered button.” She rummaged in a bright pink plastic bin. “Like this one.” She held out the fastener.

  “I love it.” Annelise leaned a hip on the table. “If only I’d found you sooner.”

  “I can make it tonight.”

  “What?”

  “If you really do want it, and you’re not just being polite, I can put it together for you tonight—after I close up.”

  “Honest?” Delight danced in Annelise.

  “Honest.”

  “But, can you get the material?”

  Maggie stepped to another door, made a come-here gesture. Annelise followed her into a smaller room that looked like an old pantry. Its wooden shelves overflowed with bolts of fabric.

  Maggie walked straight to one and drew it out, laying it on an old drop-leaf. “This is the one I thought I’d use for the jacket and overlayment.” She rooted around till she found what she wanted and pulled another bolt loose. “This would go underneath for the dress itself.”

  “Perfect.”

  “You’re sure?” Maggie asked.

  “The real question is yours. Do you really think you can do this so quickly?”

  “One-hundred percent positive.” She started to say something, stopped. Then, eyes on Annie’s, she said, “You haven’t asked the cost.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What?” A startled giggle escaped her. “Of course it matters.”

  “Okay. So it matters. Give me your price.”

  Maggie debated, pulled a pencil from her mass of red curls, and began figuring on a scrap of paper she dug from her pocket. She winced. “I don’t know. This might be too high. What do you think?” She turned the paper so Annie could read it.

  Annelise skimmed the figures. “I think it’s highway robbery.”

  Maggie paled. “You do?”

  “Unquestionably. If I took this dress for that amount of money, I’d be stealing it from you. Maggie, it’s worth four times this.”

  The redhead said nothing, simply stared at her, lips parted.

  “Maggie?”

  “Yeah. It’s…well, I don’t ever remember a customer telling me I wasn’t charging enough.”

  “Well, you’re not. How about I pay you three times this number?” She tapped a nail on the paper. “Then we’ll both feel we’ve done right by each other.”

  “Did Cash take you in from a rest home or an insane asylum?”

  Annelise laughed. “Neither. But the simple truth is that I know fashion. I also recognize genius and great work when I see it. You’ve got both in your clothes, and you deserve more from them. If you want, you can call the extra money a bonus for the rush I’ve put on the job.”

  Maggie still hesitated.

  “I won’t buy the dress unless you meet my price,” Annelise said.

  “This is nuts.” Maggie chuckled. “Okay, if you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I need some measurements.”

  Annelise checked her watch. She had enough time to do this and still be on time for Ms. Hanson.

  They’d barely finished when the bell over the front door tinkled.

  Buttoning her blouse, Annelise said, “Go ahead. Take care of your customer. I’ll be right out.”

  Maggie opened the door. “Pops, what a great surprise. I didn’t know you were coming into town today.”

  “Oh, I needed a couple things from the hardware store. Thought I’d fix that sticky faucet in the hall bath.”

  Annelise stepped out and smiled at the tall, slightly stooped white-haired gentleman wrapped in Maggie’s hug. His weathered face smiled back at her. She noticed he had the same moss-green eyes as Maggie.

  “Pops, this is Annie. Annie, my grandpa, Fletcher Sullivan. Annie’s ordered one of my evening gown designs.”

  “That right?” He walked to her and extended his hand. “Good for you, young lady. You got good taste.”

  “Your granddaughter is extremely talented. I haven’t seen anything better during fashion week in Paris.” She could have bitten her tongue off the instant the words were out.

  “You’ve been to fashion week? In Paris?” Maggie practically squealed. “Oh, my gosh, tell me all about it.”

  Annelise shrugged. “Not that big a deal.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Tell you what. When I come back for my dress, I’ll share some gossip. Right now, though, I’ve got to run. I cannot be late.”

  “Where you rushing off to?” her grandfather asked.

  “I have an appointment, Mr. Sullivan.”

  “Call me Fletch.”

  She nodded.

  “An appointment? Here in Lone Tree?”

  “Yes.” She debated how much to say, then realized it didn’t really matter. By morning the entire town would know she and Thelma Hanson had talked. These small communities were a breed unto themselves.

  “I’m meeting Thelma Hanson, sir.”

  “Fletch,” he growled. “You make me feel like an old codger when you call me mister or sir. What in the world are you doing with Thelma?”

  “Pops, that’s her business.” Maggie laid a hand on the old man’s arm.

  “No. It’s okay. My family used to live here, Fletch. I’m trying to track down a relative.”

  “Thelma?”

  She shook her head. “I think she might be able to help me, though.”

  “Humph. What’s your family’s name?”

  Oh, boy. Annelise took a deep breath. Once she threw her name out there, there truly would be no going back. “Montjoy.”

  Silence settled over the shop, stretched out for what seemed an eternity.

  “You Driller’s kin?”

  “Yes. He was my great-grandfather.”

  “Well. I’ll be damned! Oh, sorry. Pardon my French, but I’ll be…” He threw back his head and laughed. “I knew your granddaddy. Vinnie and I were buddies all through elementary school. BFFs, I think you gals would say today.”

  Maggie grinned. “Way to go, Pops.”

  Annie, trying to digest this latest bit of information, realized Maggie had turned back to her, was staring at her.

  “What?”

  “I kept thinking I should know you. God, you’re Annelise Montjoy, the missing oil heiress.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Maggie’s green eyes widened. “The dress. It’s for that big fund-raiser in Dallas, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. And there’s bound to be press there. If anyone’s interested,
or if I can find a way to work it in, I’ll be sure to give Maggie’s in Lone Tree a pitch. I’ll tell everyone I can about Maggie Sullivan, the latest fashion genius.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” Maggie clapped her hands. “I should be paying you, Annie, for wearing one of my designs.”

  “No way. Think of all the basking I can do, taking credit for having discovered you.”

  “From your lips to God’s ear,” Maggie whispered.

  “So, how’s Vinnie doing?”

  Despite herself, tears welled in Annelise’s eyes. “Not so well. He has leukemia.”

  Fletch’s face deflated. “Oh, honey, I’m real sorry to hear that. Anything the docs can do?”

  “Not unless we can find a bone marrow match for him.”

  “And that’s why you’re here,” Maggie said.

  Annelise nodded.

  “Boy, sure wish I could help.” Fletch rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know what to tell you. One day, old Driller just up and moved the family to the East Coast somewhere. Seemed there’d been some kind of family trouble or something, but I was a ten-year-old kid. Whatever went on wasn’t discussed in front of me if anyone even knew, and I didn’t care. All I knew was my best friend left, and I missed him like hell.

  “I might have a picture or two of us from back then. I’ll look around. If I find one, Maggie can make you a copy, give it to you when you come ’round to pick up that new dress she’s gonna whip up for you.”

  “I’d like that very much.” Annelise walked toward the door. “I’d better get going. I don’t want to keep Ms. Hanson waiting.”

  At the door, though, she stopped. “You know, Cash is throwing what I assume is his annual Fourth of July picnic at Whispering Pines. I’d love it if you two would come as my guests.”

  Maggie threaded her arm through her grandfather’s. “Oh, I’d love that. How about you, Pops? Want to be my date?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “Can you get away for a fitting tomorrow, Annie?”

  Annelise rested a hand at her waist. “Is a bluebird blue?”

  Maggie laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “About two o’clock?”

  “Two will work fine.”