Best Kept Secrets(30)

it and got out.



Sarah Jo's bedroom in Kentucky had been duplicated at

her Texas home, down to the silk cord tiebacks on the drapes.

When the house had been built, she had agreed to let Angus

have his heavy, dark furniture, his red leather upholstery,

and his hunting trophies in other rooms, but she had flatly

refused to let his revolting frontier motif defile their bedroom.





Cheerfully, he had agreed. He liked her fussy, feminine,

frilly things around him at night. He'd often told her that if

he'd wanted to marry a cowgirl, he wouldn't have had to go

all the way to Kentucky to find one.

"Mother, may I come in?" Junior opened the bedroom

door after a tentative knock.

"Darling, please do." Sarah Jo smiled, evidently quite

pleased over her son's visit.

Junior found her propped up on a mountain of satin pillows,

wearing a lace night jacket, smelling of expensive face cream,

and reading the biography of some foreign statesman of whom

he'd never heard. He'd never even heard of the country from

which the man hailed. Probably no one except his mother

had.

She took off her reading glasses, laid the book aside, and

patted the quilted satin comforter. With a brisk shake of his

head, Junior declined to sit down. Instead he remained standing

at the foot of the bed, hands in pockets, jingling change,

resenting this nightly ritual that was a carryover from his

childhood.

Long ago, he'd outgrown the need or desire to kiss his

mother good night, but Sarah Jo continued to expect it. Her

feelings would be hurt if he didn't. He and Angus went out

of their way to spare Sarah Jo's feelings, which were always

tenuous.

"It always smells good in here," he commented for lack

of anything else to say. The dressing down he'd received in

front of Alex still smarted. He was impatient to leave the

house and go to one of the local nightspots where he wouldn't

have to concentrate on his problems.

"Sachets. I keep them in all my drawers and closets. When

I was a girl, we had a maid who made them from crushed

dried flowers and herbs. They smelled wonderful," she said

reminiscently. "Now I have to order them. They use artificial

scents in them these days, but I still think they're pretty."

"How's the book?" Junior was already bored with the

subject of sachets.

"Quite interesting."



He seriously doubted it, but he smiled down at her. "Good.

I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Sarah Jo sensed his melancholy mood. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I can tell when something's wrong."

"Nothing out of the ordinary. I got on Dad's bad side by

interrupting his discussion with Alex."

Sarah Jo made a moue of displeasure. "Your father still

hasn't learned how to conduct himself when there's company

in the house. If he can be rude enough to cart a guest out of

the living room during the cocktail hour, you can be rude

enough to interrupt a discussion."

She bobbed her head as though she had said her piece and

that settled the matter. "What were they discussing so privately,

anyway?"

"Something about her mother's death," he said nonchalantly.

"Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure? Everybody seemed so tense tonight."

"If there's any cause for alarm, Dad'll take care of it, the

way he always does. It's certainly nothing for you to worry

about."

He had no intention of telling his mother about Alex's

investigation. The men in Sarah Jo's life knew she hated

being exposed to anything upsetting or unpleasant, and protected

her from it.

Angus never discussed business with her, especially when

it was bad. She was disappointed when their horses didn't

perform well at the track and celebrated when they did, but

beyond that, neither the ranch, nor any of the subsidiary

companies comprising Minton Enterprises, held much interest

for her.

Indeed, nothing held much interest for Sarah Jo, with the

possible exception of Junior. She was like a beautiful doll,

sealed inside a sterile room, never exposed to light or any

other corrupting element--especially life itself.

Junior loved his mother, but recognized that she wasn't

well liked. By contrast, everybody liked Angus. A few of



his friends' wives, out of loyalty and obligation, were friendly

to Sarah Jo. if not for them, she wouldn't have any acquaintances

in Purcell at all.

She'd certainly never gone out of her way to cultivate a

friendship. She thought most of the locals were vulgar and

coarse, and she made no attempt to conceal her low opinion

of them. She seemed perfectly content to reside in this room,